from Canto XI

1

When Bishop Berkeley said “there was no matter,”
     And proved it—’twas no matter what he said:
They say his system ‘tis in vain to batter,
    Too subtle for the airiest human head;
And yet who can believe it! I would shatter
     Gladly all matters, down to stone or lead,
Or adamant, to find the World a spirit,
And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

2

What a sublime discovery ‘twas to make the
     Universe universal Egotism!
That all’s ideal—all ourselves: I’ll stake the
     World (be it what you will) that that’s no Schism.
Oh, Doubt!—if thou be’st Doubt, for which some take thee,
     But which I doubt extremely—thou sole prism
Of the Truth’s rays, spoil not my draught of spirit!
Heaven’s brandy,—though our brain can hardly bear it.

3

For ever and anon comes Indigestion,
     (Not the most “dainty Ariel”) and perplexes
Our soarings with another sort of question:
    And that which after all my spirit vexes,
Is, that I find no spot where man can rest eye on,
     Without confusion of the sorts and sexes,
Of being, stars, and this unriddled wonder,
The World, which at the worst’s a glorious blunder—

4

If it be Chance; or if it be according
     To the Old Text, still better:—lest it should
Turn out so, we’ll say nothing ‘gainst the wording,
     As several people think such hazards rude:
They’re right; our days are too brief for affording
     Space to dispute what no one ever could
Decide, and every body one day will
Know very clearly—or at least lie still.

5

And therefore will I leave off metaphysical
     Discussion, which is neither here nor there:
If I agree that what is, is; then this I call
    Being quite perspicuous and extremely fair.
The truth is, I’ve grown lately rather phthisical:
     I don’t know what the reason is—the air
Perhaps; but as I suffer from the shocks
Of illness, I grow much more orthodox.

6

The first attack at once proved the Divinity;
     (But that I never doubted, nor the Devil);
The next, the Virgin’s mystical virginity;
     The third, the usual Origin of Evil;
The fourth at once established the whole Trinity
    On so uncontrovertible a level,
That I devoutly wished the three were four,
On purpose to believe so much the more.

7

To our theme:—The man who has stood on the Acropolis,
     And looked down over Attica; or he
Who has sailed where picturesque Constantinople is,
    Or seen Tombuctoo, or hath taken tea
In small-eyed China’s crockery-ware metropolis,
     Or sat amidst the bricks of Nineveh,
May not think much of London’s first appearance—
But ask him what he thinks of it a year hence?

8

Don Juan had got out on Shooter’s Hill;
    Sunset the time, the place the same declivity
Which looks along that vale of good and ill
     Where London streets ferment in full activity;
While every thing around was calm and still,
     Except the creak of wheels, which on their pivot he
Heard,—and that bee-like, bubbling, busy hum
Of cities, that boils over with their scum:—

9

I say, Don Juan, wrapt in contemplation,
     Walked on behind his carriage, o’er the summit,
And lost in wonder of so great a nation,
     Gave way to’t, since he could not overcome it.
“And here,” he cried, “is Freedom’s chosen station;
    Here peals the people’s voice, nor can entomb it
Racks, prisons, inquisitions; resurrection
Awaits it, each new meeting or election.

10

“Here are chaste wives, pure lives; here people pay
     But what they please; and if that things be dear,
‘Tis only that they love to throw away
     Their cash, to show how much they have a-year.
Here laws are all inviolate; none lay
     Traps for the traveller; every highway’s clear:
Here”—he was interrupted by a knife,
With “Damn your eyes! your money or your life!”