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Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 68, No 420, October 1850
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Год написания книги
2017
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Of Barclay and his partner Perkins.
XV
To that great factory of beer,
Unconscious wholly of his danger,
Nor dreaming that a foe was near,
There came, one day, an aged stranger.
He was a soldier, and had fought
In other lands 'gainst revolution;
And done his utmost – so he thought —
To save his country's constitution.
XVI
But saving states, like other things
Is not in highest vogue at present;
And those who stand by laws and kings
Must look for recompense unpleasant.
Fair Freedom, brooding o'er the drink
That makes the Briton strong and hearty,
Began to sneeze upon the brink
As though she scented Bonaparte.
XVII
"Ah, ha!" she cried, and cried again —
At every word her voice grew louder —
"I smell an Austrian or a Dane,
I smell a minion of gunpowder!
Some servant of a kingly race
My independent nostril vexes!
Say – shall he dare to show his face,
Within this hall of triple X's?
XVIII
"'Tis true – he is unarmed, alone,
A stranger, weak, and old, and hoary —
Yet – on, my children! heave the stone!
The less the risk, the more the glory!"
She ceased: and round the startled man,
As round the Indian crowds the cayman,
From vat, and vault, and desk, and van,
Thronged brewer, maltster, clerk, and drayman.
XIX
"A precious lark!" the foremost cried;
"Come – twig him, Tom! come – pin him, Roger!"
"Who is it?" Then a sage replied —
"He's some infernal foreign sodger!
He looks as how he'd scored ere now
Some shoulders black and blue with lashes
So pitch him here into the beer —
And, lads – we'll pull off his moustaches!"
XX
They did – what brutal natures scorn.
What savages would shrink to do —
What none but basest cowards born,
And the most abject and most few,
Would offer to an old man's head!
O shame – O shame to Englishmen!
If the old spirit be not dead,
'Tis time it showed itself again!
XXI
What! in this land which shelter gave
To all, whatever their degree,
Or were they faint, or were they brave,
Or were they slaves, or were they free —
In this Asylum of the Earth —
The noblest name it ever won —
Shall deeds like these pollute our hearth,
Shall open shame like this be done?
XXII
O most ignoble end of all
Our boasted order and renown!
The robber in the tribune's hall —
The maltster in the Judge's gown!
The hospitable roof profaned;
Old age by ruffian force opprest,
And English hands most vilely stained
With blood of an unconscious guest!
XXIII
O Freedom! if thou wouldst maintain
Thy empire on the British shore,
Wash from thy robes that coward stain,
Resume thy ancient garb once more.
In virgin whiteness walk abroad,
Maintain thy might from sea to sea,
And, as the dearest gift of God,
So men shall live and die for thee!
XV
To that great factory of beer,
Unconscious wholly of his danger,
Nor dreaming that a foe was near,
There came, one day, an aged stranger.
He was a soldier, and had fought
In other lands 'gainst revolution;
And done his utmost – so he thought —
To save his country's constitution.
XVI
But saving states, like other things
Is not in highest vogue at present;
And those who stand by laws and kings
Must look for recompense unpleasant.
Fair Freedom, brooding o'er the drink
That makes the Briton strong and hearty,
Began to sneeze upon the brink
As though she scented Bonaparte.
XVII
"Ah, ha!" she cried, and cried again —
At every word her voice grew louder —
"I smell an Austrian or a Dane,
I smell a minion of gunpowder!
Some servant of a kingly race
My independent nostril vexes!
Say – shall he dare to show his face,
Within this hall of triple X's?
XVIII
"'Tis true – he is unarmed, alone,
A stranger, weak, and old, and hoary —
Yet – on, my children! heave the stone!
The less the risk, the more the glory!"
She ceased: and round the startled man,
As round the Indian crowds the cayman,
From vat, and vault, and desk, and van,
Thronged brewer, maltster, clerk, and drayman.
XIX
"A precious lark!" the foremost cried;
"Come – twig him, Tom! come – pin him, Roger!"
"Who is it?" Then a sage replied —
"He's some infernal foreign sodger!
He looks as how he'd scored ere now
Some shoulders black and blue with lashes
So pitch him here into the beer —
And, lads – we'll pull off his moustaches!"
XX
They did – what brutal natures scorn.
What savages would shrink to do —
What none but basest cowards born,
And the most abject and most few,
Would offer to an old man's head!
O shame – O shame to Englishmen!
If the old spirit be not dead,
'Tis time it showed itself again!
XXI
What! in this land which shelter gave
To all, whatever their degree,
Or were they faint, or were they brave,
Or were they slaves, or were they free —
In this Asylum of the Earth —
The noblest name it ever won —
Shall deeds like these pollute our hearth,
Shall open shame like this be done?
XXII
O most ignoble end of all
Our boasted order and renown!
The robber in the tribune's hall —
The maltster in the Judge's gown!
The hospitable roof profaned;
Old age by ruffian force opprest,
And English hands most vilely stained
With blood of an unconscious guest!
XXIII
O Freedom! if thou wouldst maintain
Thy empire on the British shore,
Wash from thy robes that coward stain,
Resume thy ancient garb once more.
In virgin whiteness walk abroad,
Maintain thy might from sea to sea,
And, as the dearest gift of God,
So men shall live and die for thee!
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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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