Sir Peter Paul Rubens (Antwerp)

“Messieurs, le Dieu des peintres”: We felt odd: 'Twas Rubens, sculptured. A mean florid church Was the next thing we saw,—from vane to porch His drivel. The museum: as we trod Its steps, his bust held us at bay. The clod Has slosh by miles along the wall within. (“I say, I somehow feel my gorge begin To rise.”)—His chair in a glass case, by God! . . . To the Cathedral. Here too the vile snob Has fouled in every corner. (“Wherefore brave Our fate? Let's go.”) There is a monument We pass. “Messieurs, you tread upon the grave Of the great Rubens.” “Well, that's one good job! What time this evening is the train for Ghent?”