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A Satire Anthology
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Год написания книги
2017
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Then there was preaching, and good store of speeching,
With dukes and marquises on bended knee;
And they did splash her with raal Macasshur,
And the Queen said, “Ah! then thank ye all for me!”
Then the trumpets braying, and the organ playing,
And the swate trombones, with their silver tones;
But Lord Rolle was rolling – ’twas mighty consoling
To think his lordship did not break his bones!
Then the crames and custard, and the beef and mustard,
All on the tombstones like a poultherer’s shop;
With lobsters and white-bait, and other swatemeats,
And wine and nagus, and Imparial Pop!
There was cakes and apples in all the Chapels,
With fine polonies, and rich, mellow pears.
Och! the Count Von Strogonoff, sure he got prog enough,
The sly ould divil, undernathe the stairs.
Then the cannons thunder’d, and the people wonder’d,
Crying, “God save Victoria, our Royal Queen!”
Och! if myself should live to be a hundred,
Sure it’s the proudest day that I’ll have seen!
And now, I’ve ended, what I pretended,
This narration splendid in swate poe-thry,
Ye dear bewitcher, just hand the pitcher;
Faith, it’s mesilf that’s getting mighty dhry.
Richard Harris Barham.
FROM “THE DEVIL’S DRIVE.”
THE devil returned to hell by two,
And he stayed at home till five;
When he dined on some homicides done in ragoût,
And a rebel or so in an Irish stew,
And sausages made of a self-slain Jew —
And bethought himself what next to do,
“And,” quoth he, “I’ll take a drive.
I walked in the morning, I’ll ride to-night;
In darkness my children take most delight,
And I’ll see how my favorites thrive.
“And what shall I ride in?” quoth Lucifer then;
“If I followed my taste, indeed,
I should mount in a wagon of wounded men,
And smile to see them bleed.
But these will be furnished again and again,
And at present my purpose is speed,
To see my manor as much as I may,
And watch that no souls shall be poached away.
“I have a state coach at Carlton House,
A chariot in Seymour Place,
But they’re lent to two friends, who make me amends
By driving my favorite pace;
And they handle their reins with such a grace,
I have something for both at the end of the race.
“So now for the earth to take my chance.”
Then up to the earth sprung he,
And making a jump from Moscow to France,
He stepped across the sea,
And rested his hoof on a turnpike road,
No very great way from a bishop’s abode.
But first, as he flew, I forgot to say,
That he hovered a moment upon his way
To look upon Leipsic plain;
And so sweet to his eye was its sulphury glare,
And so soft to his ear was the cry of despair,
That he perched on a mountain of slain;
And he gazed with delight from its growing height,
Nor often on earth had he seen such a sight,
Nor his work done half as well:
For the field ran so red with the blood of the dead,
That it blushed like the waves of hell!
Then loudly and wildly and long laughed he:
“Methinks they have here little need of me!”
…
But the softest note that soothed his ear
Was the sound of a widow sighing;
And the sweetest sight was the icy tear,
Which horror froze in the blue eye clear
Of a maid by her lover lying,
As round her fell her long fair hair;
And she looked to heaven with that frenzied air,
Which seemed to ask if a God were there!
And, stretched by the wall of a ruined hut,
With its hollow cheeks, and eyes half shut,
A child of famine dying:
And the carnage begun, when resistance is done,
And the fall of the vainly flying!
Lord Byron.
FROM “ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH REVIEWERS”
A MAN must serve his time to ev’ry trade
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Книга дельная. Без воды, приводятся реальные кейсы и способы их разрешения. Много практичных полезных советов и методик. Кое-что уже испробовала в дел...
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