Don Juan 07-16 ~ 20
 

Don Juan 07-16
Canto the Seventh
 
     XVI

And cannot tune those discords of narration,
     Which may be names at Moscow, into rhyme;
Yet there were several worth commemoration,
     As e'er was virgin of a nuptial chime;
Soft words, too, fitted for the peroration
     Of Londonderry drawling against time,
Ending in "ischskin," "ousckin," "iffskchy," "ouski":
Of whom we can insert but Rousamouski,


Don Juan 07-17
Canto the Seventh
 
     XVII

Scherematoff and Chrematoff, Koklophti,
     Koclobski, Kourakin, and Mouskin Pouskin,
All proper men of weapons, as e'er scoff'd high
     Against a foe, or ran a sabre through skin:
Little cared they for Mahomet or Mufti,
     Unless to make their kettle-drums a new skin
Out of their hides, if parchment had grown dear,
And no more handy substitute been near.


Don Juan 07-18
Canto the Seventh
 
     XVIII

Then there were foreigners of much renown,
     Of various nations, and all volunteers;
Not fighting for their country or its crown,
     But wishing to be one day brigadiers;
Also to have the sacking of a town, --
     A pleasant thing to young men at their years.
'Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith,
Sixteen call'd Thomson, and nineteen named Smith.


Don Juan 07-19
Canto the Seventh
 
     XIX

Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson; all the rest
     Had been call'd "Jemmy," after the great bard;
I don't know whether they had arms or crest,
     But such a godfather's as good a card.
Three of the Smiths were Peters; but the best
     Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward,
Was he, since so renown'd "in country quarters
At Halifax;" but now he served the Tartars.


Don Juan 07-20
Canto the Seventh
 
     XX

The rest were jacks and Gills and Wills and Bills;
     But when I've added that the elder jack Smith
Was born in Cumberland among the hills,
     And that his father was an honest blacksmith,
I've said all I know of a name that fills
     Three lines of the despatch in taking "Schmacksmith,"
A village of Moldavia's waste, wherein
He fell, immortal in a bulletin.
 
 
George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824) 
ByronLong