from Canto X

61

And thence through Berlin, Dresden, and the like,
    Until he reached the castellated Rhine:—
Ye glorious Gothic scenes! how much ye strike
     All phantasies, not even excepting mine:
A grey wall, a green ruin, rusty pike,
    Make my soul pass the equinoctial line
Between the present and past worlds, and hover
Upon their airy confine, half-seas-over.

62

But Juan posted on through Manheim, Bonn,
    Which Drachenfels frowns over like a spectre
Of the good feudal times for ever gone,
     On which I have not time just now to lecture.
From thence he was drawn onwards to Cologne,
     A city which presents to the inspector
Eleven thousand Maidenheads of bone,
The greatest number Flesh hath ever known.

63

From thence to Holland’s Hague and Helvoetsluys,
    That water land of Dutchmen and of ditches,
Where juniper expresses its best juice,
     The poor man’s sparkling substitute for riches.
Senates and sages have condemned its use—
     But to deny the mob a cordial which is
Too often all the clothing, meat, or fuel
Good government has left them, seems but cruel.

64

Here he embarked, and with a flowing sail
     Went bounding for the island of the free,
Towards which the impatient wind blew half a gale:
     High dashed the spray, the bows dipped in the sea,
And sea-sick passengers turned somewhat pale;
     But Juan, seasoned as he well might be
By former voyages, stood to watch the skiffs
Which passed, or catch the first glimpse of the cliffs.

65

At length they rose, like a white wall along
     The blue sea’s border; and Don Juan felt—
What even young strangers feel a little strong
    At the first sight of Albion’s chalky belt—
A kind of pride that he should be among
     Those haughty shop-keepers, who sternly dealt
Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole,
And made the very billows pay them toll.

66

I have no great cause to love that spot of earth,
     Which holds what might have been the noblest nation;
But though I owe it little but my birth,
    I feel a mixed regret and veneration
For its decaying fame and former worth.
     Seven years (the usual term of transportation)
Of absence lay one’s old resentments level,
When a man’s country’s going to the devil.

67

Alas! could She but fully, truly, know
     How her great name is now throughout abhorred;
How eager all the earth is for the blow
     Which shall lay bare her bosom to the sword;
How all the nations deem her their worst foe,
     That worse than worst of foes, the once adored
False friend, who held out freedom to mankind,
And now would chain them, to the very mind;—

68

Would she be proud, or boast herself the free,
     Who is but first of slaves? The nations are
In prison,—but the jailor, what is he?
     No less a victim to the bolt and bar.
Is the poor privilege to turn the key
     Upon the captive, freedom? He’s as far
From the enjoyment of the earth and air
Who watches o’er the chain, as they who wear.

69

Don Juan now saw Albion’s earliest beauties,—
     Thy cliffs, dear Dover! harbour, and hotel;
Thy custom-house, with all its delicate duties;
    Thy waiters running mucks at every bell;
Thy packets, all whose passengers are booties
     To those who upon land or water dwell;
And last, not least, to strangers uninstructed,
Thy long, long bills, whence nothing is deducted.

70

Juan, though careless, young, and magnifique,
     And rich in rubles, diamonds, cash, and credit,
Who did not limit much his bills per week,
     Yet stared at this a little, though he paid it,—
(His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek,
     Before him summed the awful scroll and read it):
But doubtless as the air, though seldom sunny,
Is free, the respiration’s worth the money.