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METHINKS, Some thrice ten summers— thereabouts,
At every turn; but far more will be missing,
Ere you have travell'd through these awful sheets; So pray, good sir, without or hem or hissing,
Let me proceed-I rather want thy blessing.
Louis beloved by the Dutch.
Time has been busy, since in this Exchange,
He should have suffer'd 'neath a brother's clutch :
Few heads more worthy of a diadem.
The pennant up-The Kaiser heaves in view;
Already do the passengers and crew
Re-echo to the cheerings from the shore
Zounds! what a buzz, and what a deafening roar ;
1 It will be observed, that this stanza was written before those troubles occurred in Belgium, which have been a source of so much regret, and which are alluded to at another part of the Poem.
Remember, that at Dordrecht we're to dine,
And that is distant three good leagues or more; The Maese, too, must be pass'd, and then, Oh Rhine ! Thy bosom shall receive us free from brine.
Ay ! spite the pelting showers, and biting air,
On thy loud-lauded banks-thou Prince of Streams,
Half realized :-Ay! spite the ruined schemes Of those poor villagers, who, midst the mire,
Mourn their hard labours lost 1.-Ah! still it seems
As if the music of our Byron's lyre
Was breathing in our ear-Behold!-Admire !—
While gorgeous brigantines, all deeply laden,
And floats, the spoil of many a stately wood;
1 The summer of 1830 was peculiarly wet and cold, and, on that account, injurious to the labours of the husbandmen on the banks of the Rhine.
And happy hamlet, and sweet smiling maiden,
In costly guise, and graceful attitude;
Awake in us the surety of that good,
Which springs from peace, and arts, and enterprise;
And praise thee, our lov❜d England, to the skies!
to the Spirit of Byron.
Oh! thou proud spirit,-wilt thou, canst thou, say,
Vouchsafe on humble Bardling to bestow
One single spark of that celestial fire 1,
With which thou mad'st thy magic while below?
For such may there be found, nay, some that's low,
1 Of all the eulogies on Lord Byron, there appears to be none equal in beauty and truth to the fine Stanzas found in Kennedy's Fitful Fancies, I select the following:
"Unequal to your giant span,
You burst your narrow shell,