[355]: Alfred de Musset.
[356]: Voyez son terrible poëme bouffon The Vision of Judgment contre Southey, George IV, et la parade officielle.
[357]: Don Juan is a satire on the abuses in the present state of society, and not an eulogy of vice.
[358]: Stendhal, Mémoires sur lord Byron.
[359]: Moore's Life of lord Byron, III, 113.
.... I like to see the sun set, sure he'll rise to-morrow,
Not through a misty morning twinkling weak as
A drunken man's dead eye in maudlin sorrow,
But with all heaven t' himself; that day will break as
Beauteous as cloudless, nor be forced to borrow
That sort of farthing candlelight which glimmers
Where reeking London's smoky caldron simmers.
.... I love the language, that soft bastard latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female mouth,
Which 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 obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.