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Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 67, No. 416, June 1850
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2017
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VIII
"O, away, ye pangs of envy!
Wherefore dwell on such a theme,
Since a second grand subscription
Is, I know, a baseless dream?
Haunt me not with flimsy fancies —
Soul, that should be great and free!
Yet – they gave him sixty thousand,
Not a pennypiece to me!
IX
"But I threw my spirit forwards,
As an eagle cleaves the sky,
Glaring at the far horizon
With a clear unflinching eye.
Visions of transcendant brightness
Rose before my fancy still,
And the comely earth seemed girdled
With a zone from Rochdale Mill.
X
"And I saw the ports all opened,
Every harbour free from toll:
Countless myriads craving shirtings
From the Indies to the pole.
Lapland's hordes inspecting cotton,
With a spermaceti smile,
And Timbuctoo's tribes demanding
Bright's 'domestics' by the mile!
XI
"O the bliss, the joy Elysian!
O the glory! O the gain!
Never, sure, did such a vision
Burst upon the poet's brain!
Angel voices were proclaiming
That the course of trade was free,
And the merchants of the Indies
Bowed their stately heads to me!
XII
"Out, alas! my calculation
Was, I know, too quickly made;
Even sunlight casts a shadow,
There is gloom in briskest trade.
I forgot one little item —
Though the fact of course I knew,
For I never had considered
Where it was that cotton grew.
XIII
"Wherefore in this northern valley,
Where the ploughshare tears the sod,
Spring not up spontaneous bushes
Laden with the precious pod?
What an Eden were this island,
If beside the chimney-stalk
Raw material might be gathered,
Freely of an evening walk!
XIV
"But alas, we cannot do it.
And the Yankee – fiends confound him! —
Grins upon us, o'er the ocean,
With his bursting groves around him.
And these good-for-nothing Negroes
Are so very slow at hoeing,
That their last supply of cotton
Will not keep our mills a-going.
XV
"Also, spite of Cobden's speeches
Made in every foreign land,
Which, 'tis true, the beastly natives
Did not wholly understand,
Hostile tariffs still are rising,
Duties laid on twist and twine;
And the wild pragmatic Germans
Hail with shouts their Zollverein.
XVI
"They, like madmen, seem to fancy
That a nation, to be great,
Should as surely shield the workman
As the highest in the state:
And they'd rather raise their taxes
From the fruits of foreign labour,
Than permit, as nature dictates,
Each man to devour his neighbour.
XVII
"O, away, ye pangs of envy!
Wherefore dwell on such a theme,
Since a second grand subscription
Is, I know, a baseless dream?
Haunt me not with flimsy fancies —
Soul, that should be great and free!
Yet – they gave him sixty thousand,
Not a pennypiece to me!
IX
"But I threw my spirit forwards,
As an eagle cleaves the sky,
Glaring at the far horizon
With a clear unflinching eye.
Visions of transcendant brightness
Rose before my fancy still,
And the comely earth seemed girdled
With a zone from Rochdale Mill.
X
"And I saw the ports all opened,
Every harbour free from toll:
Countless myriads craving shirtings
From the Indies to the pole.
Lapland's hordes inspecting cotton,
With a spermaceti smile,
And Timbuctoo's tribes demanding
Bright's 'domestics' by the mile!
XI
"O the bliss, the joy Elysian!
O the glory! O the gain!
Never, sure, did such a vision
Burst upon the poet's brain!
Angel voices were proclaiming
That the course of trade was free,
And the merchants of the Indies
Bowed their stately heads to me!
XII
"Out, alas! my calculation
Was, I know, too quickly made;
Even sunlight casts a shadow,
There is gloom in briskest trade.
I forgot one little item —
Though the fact of course I knew,
For I never had considered
Where it was that cotton grew.
XIII
"Wherefore in this northern valley,
Where the ploughshare tears the sod,
Spring not up spontaneous bushes
Laden with the precious pod?
What an Eden were this island,
If beside the chimney-stalk
Raw material might be gathered,
Freely of an evening walk!
XIV
"But alas, we cannot do it.
And the Yankee – fiends confound him! —
Grins upon us, o'er the ocean,
With his bursting groves around him.
And these good-for-nothing Negroes
Are so very slow at hoeing,
That their last supply of cotton
Will not keep our mills a-going.
XV
"Also, spite of Cobden's speeches
Made in every foreign land,
Which, 'tis true, the beastly natives
Did not wholly understand,
Hostile tariffs still are rising,
Duties laid on twist and twine;
And the wild pragmatic Germans
Hail with shouts their Zollverein.
XVI
"They, like madmen, seem to fancy
That a nation, to be great,
Should as surely shield the workman
As the highest in the state:
And they'd rather raise their taxes
From the fruits of foreign labour,
Than permit, as nature dictates,
Each man to devour his neighbour.
XVII
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Последний отзыв
Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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