Оценить:
 Рейтинг: 4.5

Bentley's Miscellany, Volume II

Автор
Год написания книги
2017
<< 1 ... 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 ... 132 >>
На страницу:
97 из 132
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
At last she found the key; – then, with a sigh
Long-drawn and deep, her quivering voice she woke,
Which rose and curl'd – ay, gracefully as smoke
Seen at a distance – misty-wreathing – dimly
Issuing from some wood-bound cottage chimley.

I

In Stoney Batther
There liv'd a man,
By trade a hatther,
And a good wan:
The best of baver
He used to buy;

Till a deceiver,
Passing by,
Said, – "For a crown
I'll sell ye this."
"Come in," says he,
"Let's see what 'tis."
II.
"The finest skin, sir,
You ever saw;
Without or in, sir,
There's not a flaw!
No hat or bonnet
You ever made,
With gloss upon it
Of such a shade!"
"Then put it down,"
The hatther cried;
"And here's yir crown,
And thanks beside,"

III

But, oh! what wondher
When he did find
The wicked plundher
The rogue design'd!
"My cat is missin',"
(Says he,) "black Min,
They've cut yir wizzin, —
I've bought yir skin!
Of neighbours' cats,"
Then wild he swore,
"I'll make my hats
For evermore!"

Miss Biddy Reilly ceased her pensive ditty,
And, with a look that made his rivals jealous,
She call'd upon our hero, who, quite witty,
Express'd a hope they would excuse his bellows,
As he had lately caught cold in the water,
'Stead of an eel that he was lookin' a'ter!
A loud horse-laugh first trumpets Darby's praise.
Then thus his low bass voice he high did raise

Tune– "Young Charly Reilly."

I

Beside a mountin,
Where many a fountin,
Beyant all countin',
Ran swift and clear,
A valley flourish'd
That Nature nourish'd,
For she dhuc-a-dhurrish'd[27 - Dhuc-a-Dhurrish, the drink at the door.]
Her last drop there!
And said, at partin',
To Father Martin,
"There's more of art in
Some spots of earth;
But, by this whiskey,
That makes me frisky,
In Ballanisky
Myself had birth?"

II

In this inclosure,
With great composure,
And hedge of osier,
A cabin grew;
And, sweeter in it
Than any linnet
Could sing, or spinnet,
A maiden, too!
Her time went gaily
Both night and daily,
Till Rodhrick Haly
Pierc'd thro' her heart:
Oh! if he'd spoken,
Or giv'n one token,
Sure 'twouldn't have broken
With love's keen dart!

III
<< 1 ... 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 ... 132 >>
На страницу:
97 из 132