XLII. I like on Autumn evenings to ride out, I know too that, if stopp'd upon my route, XLIII. I also like to dine on becaficas, To see the Sun set, sure he'll rise to-morrow, Not through a misty morning twinkling weak as A drunken man's dead in maudlin sorrow, eye But with all Heaven t' himself; that day will break as Beauteous as cloudless, nor be forc'd to borrow That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers Where recking London's smoky cauldron simmers. XLIV. I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're oblig'd to hiss, and spit, and sputter ali. XLV. I like the women too (forgive my folly), XLVI. Eve of the land which still is Paradise! Italian beauty! didst thou not inspire Raphael', who died in thy embrace, and vies With all we know of Heaven, or can desire, In what he hath bequeath'd us?—in what guise, Though flashing from the fervow of the lyre, Would words describe thy past and present glow, While yet Canova can create below ?? 1 For the received accounts of the cause of Raphael's death, sce his Lives. 2 Note. (In talking thus, the writer, more especially Since, as all know, without the sex, our sonnets Would seem unfinish'd like their untrimm'd bonnets.) (Signed) PRINTER'S DEVIL. 66 XLVII. England! with all thy faults I love thee still," I said at Calais, and have not forgot it; I like to speak and lucubrate my fill; I like the government (but that is not it); I like the freedom of the press and quill; I like the Habeas Corpus (when we've got it); I like a parliamentary debate, Particularly when 'tis not too late; XLVIII. I like the taxes, when they're not too many; I like a seacoal fire, when not too dear; I like a beef-steak, too, as well as any; I like the weather, when it is not rainy, That is, I like two months of every year. And so God save the Regent, Church, and King! Which means that I like all and every thing. XLIX. Our standing army, and disbanded seamen, Our trifling bankruptcies in the Gazette, All these I can forgive, and those forget, And greatly venerate our recent glories, And wish they were not owing to the Tories. L. But to my tale of Laura,-for I find Digression is a sin, that by degrees Becomes exceeding tedious to my mind, And, therefore, may the reader too displease The gentle reader, who may wax unkind, And caring little for the author's ease, Insist on knowing what he means, a hard |