B¥UO&*S WOBK&

424

Just as a mandarin finds nothin," fine,—

At least his mauner suffers not to guess,

That anything he views can greatly please.

Porhap3 we have borrow’d this from the Chinese—

XXXV.

Perhaps from Horace: his “ Nil Admirari nWas what he call’d the “Art of HappinessAn art on which the artists greatly vary,

And have not yet attain’d to much success.However, ’tis expedient to be wary;

Indifference, certes, don’t produce distress*

And rash enthusiasm, in good society,

Were nothing but a moral inebriety.

xxxvr.

But Adeline was not indifferent: for(Now for a common place!) beneath the snow.

As a volcano holds the lava more

Within —et ccetera. Shall I go on ?—No!

I hate to hunt down a tir’d metaphor*

So let the often-us'd volcano go.

Poor thing! How frequently, by me and others,

It hath been stirr’d up till its smoke quitesmothers.

xxxvir.

I’ll have another figure in a trice:—

What say you to a bottle of champagne?

Frozen mto a very vinous ice,

Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain,Yet, in the very centre, past all price,

About a liquid glassful will remain;

And this is stronger than the strongest grapeCould e'er express in its expanded shape:

XXXVIII.

’Tis the whole spirit brought to a quintessence;

And thus the chilliest aspects may concentreA hidden nectar under a cold presence;

And such are many—though I only meant her,From whom I now deduce these moral lessons,

On which the Muse has always sought to enter:And your cold people are beyond all price,

When once you have broken their confounded ice.

XXXIX.

But, after all, they are a North-West Passage,

Unto the glowing India of the soul;

And as the good ships sent upon that messageHave not exactly ascertain’d the Pole,

^Though Parry’s efforts look a lucky presage),

Thus gentlemen may run upon a shoal;

For, if the Pole’s not open, but all frost.

(A chance still), ’t is a voyage or vessel lost.

XL.

And youDg beginners may as well commenceWith quiet cruising o'er the ocean, woman;While those who are not beginners, should havesenso

Enough to make for port; ere time shall sum-mon,

With his grey signal-flag: and the past tense,

The dreary “ fuimus ” of all things human,

Must be declined, while life’s thin thread’s spunout

Between the gaping heir and gnawing gout.

fcM.

But heaven must be diverted: its diversionIs sometimes truculent—but uever mindThe world upon the whole is worth the assertion,(If but for comfort) that all things are kind:

And that some devilish doctrine of the Persian,

Of the two principles, but leaves behindAs many doubts as any other doctrineHas ever puzzled Faith withal, or yok’d her in.

xcir.

The English winter—ending in July,

To recommence in August—now was done.

’Tis the postilion's paradise: wheels fly:

On roads, east, south, north, west, there is a run:But for post-horses who finds sympathy?

Man’s pity’s for himself, or for his son;

Always premising that said son, at college,

Has not contracted much more debt than know*ledge.

xliii.

The London winter’s ended in July—

Sometimes a little later. I don't errIn this: whatever other blunders lieUpou my shoulders, here I must averMy Muse a glass of weatherology;

For parliament is our barometer;

Let radicals its other acts attack;

Its sessions form our only almanack.

XLIV.

When its quicksilver's down at zero,—lo!

Coach, chariot, luggage, baggage, equipage!Wheels whirl from Carlton palace to Soho;

And happiest they who horses can engage :

The turnpikes glow with dust; and Botteu BowSleeps from the chivalry of this bright ago:

And tradesmen, with long bills, and longer faces,Sigh—as the postboys fasten on the traces.

XLV.

They and their bills, Arcadians both,”* are leftTo the Greek kalends of another session.

Alas! to them of ready cash bereft,

What hope remains? Of hope the full possession,A generous draft, conceded as a gift,

At a long date—till they can get a fresh one—Hawk’d about at a discount, small or large;

Also the solace of an overcharge

XLVL

But these are trifles. Downward flies my lord,Nodding beside my lady in his carnage.

Away! away! “ Fresh horses !” are the word:

And chang’d as quickly as hearts after mar.riago:

The obsequious landlord hath the change restored:

The postboys have no reason to disparageTheir fee; but, ere the water'd wheels may hisshence,

Tko ostler pleads too for a reminiscence.

XLVII.

’Tis granted; and the valet mounts the dickey—That gentleman ofjords and gentlemen;

Also my lady’s gentlewoman, tricky—

Trick’d out, but modest more than poet’s pen

* “ Arcades Ambo.’