XXVI.

The line of lights,[576] too, up to Charing Cross,

Pall Mall, and so forth, have a coruscation

Like gold as in comparison to dross,

Matched with the Continent's illumination,

Whose cities Night by no means deigns to gloss.

The French were not yet a lamp-lighting nation,

And when they grew so—on their new-found lantern,

Instead of wicks, they made a wicked man turn.[577]

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