The scene reminded me of one which I had witnessed at Naples, on the arrival of the first steam-boat from Rome, conveying the Cardinal Legate to the Court of his Majesty of the Two Sicilies. I disdain all the formalities of poetry. Let others prepare their parchment-bound portfolios, throw their visages into the _penseroso_, fling their curls back from their brows, unbutton their shirt-collars, and, thus Byronised, begin. To _me_ all times and places are the same.--The inspiration rushes on me, and I pour out my "unpremeditated song" in the original rapture of Bardism! THE CARDINAL'S VOYAGE. I have seen some queer things, Both in people and kings, Since first I began as a dreamer; But I ne'er thought to hear Any thing half so queer As a Cardinal's trip in a steamer. I once saw a Rabbi, The prince of the shabby, In a gale of wind playing the screamer, Till we plumped him o'erboard, Towed along by a cord, For a bath at the tail of the steamer. 'Tis true, the Chinese Looked as black as their teas, When battered by brave Sir John Bremer: But John Chinaman's slaughter Was all milk and water, To the havoc on board of the steamer. On a coil of the cable, Right under the table, With the glass at 500 of Reaumur, Busy "making his soul," As he felt every roll, Lay his Highness, on board of the steamer. Around him ten chaplains, And none of them saplings, Lay pale as a quarantine streamer. With six dozen of monks, All as helpless as trunks, All rolling about in the steamer. As she steered down the Tiber, It shook every fibre Of the conclave from forehead to _femur_; But, 'twas when in her glee, She got sight of the sea, That she showed them the tricks of the steamer. At Civita Vecchia, Oh, mie orecchie! What howls called the Saints to redeem her. But she darted along Like a stone from a thong, In the style of a true British steamer. She now ruled the roast, As she sprang from the coast, Through such surges no buckets could teem her: The Lipari Isles Got but very few smiles From the brethren on board of the steamer. "As sure as we're born, We'll ne'er see Leghorn." "Peccavi!" cried out every schemer: The whole of the friars. In that court were "criers," While thundered the wheels of the steamer. I'd not stand in their shoes, As they passed Syracuse, Where thy frigate lay moored, Captain Seymour: At the top of their throats Yelling out for thy boats, While teeth to the wind went the steamer. As they swept by Messina-- Thy birth-place, Christina!-- Old Etna was scarce such a beamer: In vain they cried--"Stop!" With a blaze at her top, Like a pillar of flame rushed the steamer.