It is not that I adulate the people: Without _me_, there are demagogues enough,[496] And infidels, to pull down every steeple, And set up in their stead some proper stuff. Whether they may sow scepticism to reap Hell, As is the Christian dogma rather rough, I do not know;--I wish men to be free As much from mobs as kings--from you as me. XXVI. The consequence is, being of no party, I shall offend all parties:--never mind! My words, at least, are more sincere and hearty Than if I sought to sail before the wind. He who has nought to gain can have small art: he Who neither wishes to be bound nor bind, May still expatiate freely, as will I, Nor give my voice to slavery's jackal cry.[iz] XXVII. _That's_ an appropriate simile, _that jackal;_-- I've heard them in the Ephesian ruins howl[497] By night, as do that mercenary pack all, Power's base purveyors, who for pickings prowl, And scent the prey their masters would attack all. However, the poor jackals are less foul (As being the brave lions' keen providers) Than human insects, catering for spiders.[ja] XXVIII. Raise but an arm! 't will brush their web away, And without _that_, their poison and their claws Are useless. Mind, good people! what I say-- (Or rather Peoples)--_go on_ without pause! The web of these Tarantulas each day Increases, till you shall make common cause: None, save the Spanish Fly and Attic Bee, As yet are strongly stinging to be free.[jb] XXIX. Don Juan, who had shone in the late slaughter, Was left upon his way with the despatch, Where blood was talked of as we would of water; And carcasses that lay as thick as thatch O'er silenced cities, merely served to flatter Fair Catherine's pastime--who looked on the match Between these nations as a main of cocks, Wherein she liked her own to stand like rocks. XXX. And there in a _kibitka_ he rolled on, (A cursed sort of carriage without springs, Which on rough roads leaves scarcely a whole bone,) Pondering on Glory, Chivalry, and Kings, And Orders, and on all that he had done-- And wishing that post-horses had the wings Of Pegasus, or at the least post-chaises Had feathers, when a traveller on deep ways is. XXXI. At every jolt--and they were many--still He turned his eyes upon his little charge, As if he wished that she should fare less ill Than he, in these sad highways left at large To ruts, and flints, and lovely Nature's skill, Who is no paviour, nor admits a barge On _her_ canals, where God takes sea and land, Fishery and farm, both into his own hand. XXXII.