Such letters, too, contrasted with the noble stanzas on Portugal
in "Childe Harold," will show how various were the moods of his
versatile mind, and what different aspects it could take when in
repose or on the wing.
LETTER 37.
TO MR. HODGSON.
"Lisbon, July 16. 1809.
"Thus far have we pursued our route, and seen all sorts of marvellous
sights, palaces, convents, &c.;--which, being to be heard in my
friend Hobhouse's forthcoming Book of Travels, I shall not anticipate
by smuggling any account whatsoever to you in a private and
clandestine manner. I must just observe, that the village of Cintra in
Estremadura is the most beautiful, perhaps, in the world.
"I am very happy here, because I loves oranges, and talk bad Latin to
the monks, who understand it, as it is like their own,--and I goes
into society (with my pocket-pistols), and I swims in the Tagus all
across at once, and I rides on an ass or a mule, and swears
Portuguese, and have got a diarrhoea and bites from the musquitoes.
But what of that? Comfort must not be expected by folks that go a
pleasuring.
"When the Portuguese are pertinacious, I say, 'Carracho!'--the great
oath of the grandees, that very well supplies the place of
'Damme,'--and, when dissatisfied with my neighbour, I pronounce him
'Ambra di merdo.' With these two phrases, and a third, 'Avra bouro,'
which signifieth 'Get an ass,' I am universally understood to be a
person of degree and a master of languages.
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