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A Satire Anthology
Автор
Год написания книги
2017
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And naught so ethereal but there it would stay,
And naught so reluctant but in it must go:
All which some examples more clearly will show.
The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire,
Which retained all the wit that had ever been there.
As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief;
When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell,
That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell.
One time he put in Alexander the Great,
With the garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight;
And though clad in armour from sandals to crown,
The hero rose up, and the garment went down.
A long row of almshouses, amply endowed
By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud,
Next loaded one scale; while the other was pressed
By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest:
Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce.
And down, down the farthing-worth came with a bounce.
By further experiments (no matter how)
He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough;
A sword with gilt trapping rose up in the scale,
Though balanced by only a ten penny nail;
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear,
Weighed less than a widow’s uncrystallized tear.
A lord and a lady went up at full sail,
When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale;
Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl,
Ten counsellors’ wigs, full of powder and curl,
All heaped in one balance and swinging from thence,
Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense;
A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt,
Than one good potato just washed from the dirt;
Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice
One pearl to outweigh – ’twas The Pearl of Great Price.
Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate,
With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight,
When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff
That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof!
When balanced in air, it ascended on high,
And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky;
While the scale with the soul in’t so mightily fell,
That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell.
Jane Taylor.
FROM “THE FEAST OF THE POETS”
NEXT came Walter Scott, with a fine, weighty face,
For as soon as his visage was seen in the place,
The diners and barmaids all crowded to know him,
And thank him with smiles for that sweet, pretty poem!
However, he scarcely had got through the door,
When he looked adoration, and bowed to the floor,
For his host was a god – what a very great thing!
And what was still greater in his eyes – a king!
Apollo smiled shrewdly, and bade him sit down,
With, “Well, Mr. Scott, you have managed the town;
Now, pray, copy less – have a little temerity;
Try if you can’t also manage posterity.
All you add now only lessens your credit;
And how could you think, too, of taking to edit?
A great deal’s endured where there’s measure and rhyme,
But prose such as yours is a pure waste of time —
A singer of ballads unstrung by a cough,
Who fairly talks on, till his hearers walk off.
Be original, man; study more, scribble less,
Nor mistake present favor for lasting success;
And remember, if laurels are what you would find,
The crown of all triumph is freedom of mind.”
James Henry Leigh Hunt.
RICH AND POOR; OR, SAINT AND SINNER
THE poor man’s sins are glaring;
In the face of ghostly warning,
He is caught in the fact
Of an overt act —
Buying greens on Sunday morning.
The rich man’s sins are hidden
In the pomp of wealth and station;
And escape the sight
Of the children of light,
Who are wise in their generation.
The rich man has a kitchen,
And cooks to dress his dinner;
The poor, who would roast,
To the baker’s must post,
And thus becomes a sinner.
The rich man has a cellar,
And a ready butler by him;
And naught so reluctant but in it must go:
All which some examples more clearly will show.
The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire,
Which retained all the wit that had ever been there.
As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf
Containing the prayer of the penitent thief;
When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell,
That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell.
One time he put in Alexander the Great,
With the garment that Dorcas had made, for a weight;
And though clad in armour from sandals to crown,
The hero rose up, and the garment went down.
A long row of almshouses, amply endowed
By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud,
Next loaded one scale; while the other was pressed
By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest:
Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce.
And down, down the farthing-worth came with a bounce.
By further experiments (no matter how)
He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough;
A sword with gilt trapping rose up in the scale,
Though balanced by only a ten penny nail;
A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear,
Weighed less than a widow’s uncrystallized tear.
A lord and a lady went up at full sail,
When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale;
Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl,
Ten counsellors’ wigs, full of powder and curl,
All heaped in one balance and swinging from thence,
Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense;
A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt,
Than one good potato just washed from the dirt;
Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice
One pearl to outweigh – ’twas The Pearl of Great Price.
Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate,
With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight,
When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff
That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof!
When balanced in air, it ascended on high,
And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky;
While the scale with the soul in’t so mightily fell,
That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell.
Jane Taylor.
FROM “THE FEAST OF THE POETS”
NEXT came Walter Scott, with a fine, weighty face,
For as soon as his visage was seen in the place,
The diners and barmaids all crowded to know him,
And thank him with smiles for that sweet, pretty poem!
However, he scarcely had got through the door,
When he looked adoration, and bowed to the floor,
For his host was a god – what a very great thing!
And what was still greater in his eyes – a king!
Apollo smiled shrewdly, and bade him sit down,
With, “Well, Mr. Scott, you have managed the town;
Now, pray, copy less – have a little temerity;
Try if you can’t also manage posterity.
All you add now only lessens your credit;
And how could you think, too, of taking to edit?
A great deal’s endured where there’s measure and rhyme,
But prose such as yours is a pure waste of time —
A singer of ballads unstrung by a cough,
Who fairly talks on, till his hearers walk off.
Be original, man; study more, scribble less,
Nor mistake present favor for lasting success;
And remember, if laurels are what you would find,
The crown of all triumph is freedom of mind.”
James Henry Leigh Hunt.
RICH AND POOR; OR, SAINT AND SINNER
THE poor man’s sins are glaring;
In the face of ghostly warning,
He is caught in the fact
Of an overt act —
Buying greens on Sunday morning.
The rich man’s sins are hidden
In the pomp of wealth and station;
And escape the sight
Of the children of light,
Who are wise in their generation.
The rich man has a kitchen,
And cooks to dress his dinner;
The poor, who would roast,
To the baker’s must post,
And thus becomes a sinner.
The rich man has a cellar,
And a ready butler by him;
Другие электронные книги автора Carolyn Wells
Последний отзыв
Книга дельная. Без воды, приводятся реальные кейсы и способы их разрешения. Много практичных полезных советов и методик. Кое-что уже испробовала в дел...
Далее