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
По всем вопросам обращайтесь на: info@litportal.ru
(©) 2003-2025.
✖
A Satire Anthology
Автор
Год написания книги
2017
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
The poor must steer
For his pint of beer,
Where the saint can’t choose but spy him.
The rich man’s painted windows
Hide the concerts of the quality;
The poor can but share
A crack’d fiddle in the air,
Which offends all sound morality.
The rich man is invisible
In the crowd of his gay society;
But the poor man’s delight
Is a sore in the sight,
And a stench in the nose of piety.
Thomas L. Peacock.
MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE’S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION
OCH! the Coronation! what celebration
For emulation can with it compare?
When to Westminster the Royal Spinster
And the Duke of Leinster, all in order did repair!
’Twas there you’d see the new Polishemen
Make a scrimmage at half after four;
And the Lords and Ladies, and the Miss O’Gradys,
All standing round before the Abbey door.
Their pillows scorning, that selfsame morning
Themselves adorning, all by the candle-light,
With roses and lilies, and daffy-down-dillies,
And gould and jewels, and rich di’monds bright.
And then approaches five hundred coaches,
With Gineral Dullbeak. – Och! ’twas mighty fine
To see how aisy bould Corporal Casey,
With his sword drawn, prancing, made them kape the line.
Then the guns’ alarums, and the King of Arums,
All in his Garters and his Clarence shoes,
Opening the massy doors to the bould Ambassydors,
The Prince of Potboys, and great haythen Jews;
’Twould have made you crazy to see Esterhazy
All jools from his jasey to his di’mond boots;
With Alderman Harmer, and that swate charmer,
The famale heiress, Miss Anjä-ly Coutts.
And Wellington, walking with his swoord drawn, talking
To Hill and Hardinge, haroes of great fame;
And Sir De Lacy, and the Duke Dalmasey
(They call’d him Sowlt afore he changed his name),
Themselves presading, Lord Melbourne lading
The Queen, the darling, to her royal chair,
And that fine ould fellow, the Duke of Pell-Mello,
The Queen of Portingal’s Chargy-de-fair.
Then the noble Prussians, likewise the Russians,
In fine laced jackets with their goulden cuffs,
And the Bavarians, and the proud Hungarians,
And Everythingarians all in furs and muffs.
Then Misther Spaker, with Misther Pays the Quaker,
All in the gallery you might persave;
But Lord Brougham was missing, and gone a-fishing,
Ounly crass Lord Essex would not give him lave.
There was Baron Alten himself exalting,
And Prince Von Schwartzenburg, and many more;
Och! I’d be bother’d, and entirely smother’d,
To tell the half of ’em was to the fore;
With the swate Peeresses, in their crowns and dresses,
And Aldermanesses, and the Boord of Works;
But Mehemet Ali said, quite gintalely,
“I’d be proud to see the likes among the Turks!”
Then the Queen – Heaven bless her! – och! they did dress her
In her purple garments and her goulden crown,
Like Venus, or Hebe, or the Queen of Sheby,
With eight young ladies houlding up her gown.
Sure ’twas grand to see her, also for to he-ar
The big drums bating and the trumpets blow;
And Sir George Smart, oh! he played a consarto,
With his four-and-twenty fiddlers all on a row!
Then the Lord Archbishop held a goulden dish up
For to resave her bounty and great wealth,
Saying, “Plase your Glory, great Queen Vic-tory!
Ye’ll give the Clargy lave to dhrink your health!”
Then his Riverence, retrating, discoorsed the mating:
“Boys, here’s your Queen! deny it if you can!
And if any bould traitor, or infarior craythur,
Sneezes at that, I’d like to see the man!”
Then the Nobles kneeling, to the Pow’rs appealing —
“Heaven send your Majesty a glorious reign!”
And Sir Claudius Hunter, he did confront her,
All in his scarlet gown and goulden chain.
The great Lord May’r, too, sat in his chair, too,
But mighty sarious, looking fit to cry,
For the Earl of Surrey, all in his hurry,
Throwing the thirteens, hit him in his eye.
For his pint of beer,
Where the saint can’t choose but spy him.
The rich man’s painted windows
Hide the concerts of the quality;
The poor can but share
A crack’d fiddle in the air,
Which offends all sound morality.
The rich man is invisible
In the crowd of his gay society;
But the poor man’s delight
Is a sore in the sight,
And a stench in the nose of piety.
Thomas L. Peacock.
MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE’S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION
OCH! the Coronation! what celebration
For emulation can with it compare?
When to Westminster the Royal Spinster
And the Duke of Leinster, all in order did repair!
’Twas there you’d see the new Polishemen
Make a scrimmage at half after four;
And the Lords and Ladies, and the Miss O’Gradys,
All standing round before the Abbey door.
Their pillows scorning, that selfsame morning
Themselves adorning, all by the candle-light,
With roses and lilies, and daffy-down-dillies,
And gould and jewels, and rich di’monds bright.
And then approaches five hundred coaches,
With Gineral Dullbeak. – Och! ’twas mighty fine
To see how aisy bould Corporal Casey,
With his sword drawn, prancing, made them kape the line.
Then the guns’ alarums, and the King of Arums,
All in his Garters and his Clarence shoes,
Opening the massy doors to the bould Ambassydors,
The Prince of Potboys, and great haythen Jews;
’Twould have made you crazy to see Esterhazy
All jools from his jasey to his di’mond boots;
With Alderman Harmer, and that swate charmer,
The famale heiress, Miss Anjä-ly Coutts.
And Wellington, walking with his swoord drawn, talking
To Hill and Hardinge, haroes of great fame;
And Sir De Lacy, and the Duke Dalmasey
(They call’d him Sowlt afore he changed his name),
Themselves presading, Lord Melbourne lading
The Queen, the darling, to her royal chair,
And that fine ould fellow, the Duke of Pell-Mello,
The Queen of Portingal’s Chargy-de-fair.
Then the noble Prussians, likewise the Russians,
In fine laced jackets with their goulden cuffs,
And the Bavarians, and the proud Hungarians,
And Everythingarians all in furs and muffs.
Then Misther Spaker, with Misther Pays the Quaker,
All in the gallery you might persave;
But Lord Brougham was missing, and gone a-fishing,
Ounly crass Lord Essex would not give him lave.
There was Baron Alten himself exalting,
And Prince Von Schwartzenburg, and many more;
Och! I’d be bother’d, and entirely smother’d,
To tell the half of ’em was to the fore;
With the swate Peeresses, in their crowns and dresses,
And Aldermanesses, and the Boord of Works;
But Mehemet Ali said, quite gintalely,
“I’d be proud to see the likes among the Turks!”
Then the Queen – Heaven bless her! – och! they did dress her
In her purple garments and her goulden crown,
Like Venus, or Hebe, or the Queen of Sheby,
With eight young ladies houlding up her gown.
Sure ’twas grand to see her, also for to he-ar
The big drums bating and the trumpets blow;
And Sir George Smart, oh! he played a consarto,
With his four-and-twenty fiddlers all on a row!
Then the Lord Archbishop held a goulden dish up
For to resave her bounty and great wealth,
Saying, “Plase your Glory, great Queen Vic-tory!
Ye’ll give the Clargy lave to dhrink your health!”
Then his Riverence, retrating, discoorsed the mating:
“Boys, here’s your Queen! deny it if you can!
And if any bould traitor, or infarior craythur,
Sneezes at that, I’d like to see the man!”
Then the Nobles kneeling, to the Pow’rs appealing —
“Heaven send your Majesty a glorious reign!”
And Sir Claudius Hunter, he did confront her,
All in his scarlet gown and goulden chain.
The great Lord May’r, too, sat in his chair, too,
But mighty sarious, looking fit to cry,
For the Earl of Surrey, all in his hurry,
Throwing the thirteens, hit him in his eye.
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