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Lord Byron (1788–1824).  Poetry of Byron.  1881.
 
IV. Satiric
London
 
(Don Juan, Canto x. Stanzas 81, 82.)

THE SUN went down, the smoke rose up as from
  A half-unquench’d volcano, o’er a space
Which well beseem’d the “Devil’s drawing-room,”
  As some have qualified that wondrous place:
But Juan felt, though not approaching home,        5
  As one who, though he were not of the race,
Revered the soil, of those true sons the mother,
Who butcher’d half the earth, and bullied t’other.
 
A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,
  Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye        10
Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping
  In sight, then lost amidst the forestry
Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping
  On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy;
A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown        15
On a fool’s head—and there is London Town!
 
 
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