Ust Hold A Petty Reign, Flanked By Her Formidable Chamberlain; The Martial Argus, Whose Not Hundred Eyes[348] Must Watch Her Through These Paltry Pageantries. What Though She Share No More, And Shared In Vain, A Sway Surpassing That Of Charlemagne, Which Swept From Moscow To The Southern Seas! Yet Still She Rules The Pastoral Realm Of Cheese, Where Parma Views The Traveller Resort, To Note The Trappings Of Her Mimic Court. But She Appears! Verona Sees Her Shorn Of All Her Beams - While Nations Gaze And Mourn - Ere Yet Her Husband'S Ashes Have Had Time To Chill In Their Inhospitable Clime; (If E'Er Those Awful Ashes Can Grow Cold; - But No, - Their Embers Soon Will Burst The Mould;) She Comes! - The Andromache (But Not Racine'S, Nor Homer'S,) - Lo! On Pyrrhus' Arm[349] She Leans![Ew] Yes! The Right Arm, Yet Red From Waterloo, Which Cut Her Lord'S Half-Shattered Sceptre Through, Is Offered And Accepted? Could A Slave Do More? Or Less? - And He In His New Grave! Her Eye - Her Cheek - Betray No Inward Strife, And The Ex-Empress Grows As Ex A Wife! So Much For Human Ties In Royal Breasts! Why Spare Men'S Feelings, When Their Own Are Jests? Xviii. But, Tired Of Foreign Follies, I Turn Home, And Sketch The Group - The Picture'S Yet To Come. My Muse 'Gan Weep, But, Ere A Tear Was Spilt, She Caught Sir William Curtis In A Kilt![350] While Thronged The Chiefs Of Every Highland Clan To Hail Their Brother, Vich Ian Alderman! Guildhall Grows Gael, And Echoes With Erse Roar, While All The Common Council Cry "Claymore!"[351] To See Proud Albyn'S Tartans As A Belt Gird The Gross Sirloin Of A City Celt, She Burst Into A Laughter So Extreme, That I Awoke - And Lo! It Was No Dream! Here, Reader, Will We Pause: - If There'S No Harm In This First - You'll Have, Perhaps, A Second "Carmen." B. J^N 10^Th^ 1823.