Hudibras Samuel Butler (free novels to read TXT) đ
- Author: Samuel Butler
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And where a watch, for half the worth,
May be redeemâd; or stolen plate
Restorâd at conscionable rate.
Beside all this, he servâd his master
In quality of poetaster;
And rhymes appropriate could make
To evâry month iâ thâ almanac;
What terms begin and end could tell,
With their returns, in doggerel:
When the Exchequer opes and shuts,
And sow-gelder with safety cuts;
When men may eat and drink their fill,
And when be tempârate if they will;
When use, and when abstain from vice,
Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice.
And as in prison mean rogues beat
Hemp for the service of the great,
So Whachum beats his dirty brains,
Tâ advance his masterâs fame and gains,
And like the devilâs oracles,
Put into doggârel rhymes his spells,
Which, over evâry monthâs blank page
Iâ thâ almanac, strange bilks presage.
He would an elegy compose
On maggots squeezâd out of his nose:
In lyric numbers write an ode on
His mistress, eating a black-pudding;
And when imprisonâd air escapâd her,
It puft him with poetic rapture.
His sonnets charmâd thâ attentive crowd,
By wide-mouthâd mortal trollâd aloud,
That, circlâd with his long-earâd guests,
Like Orpheus lookâd among the beasts.
A carmanâs horse could not pass by,
But stood tyâd up to poetry:
No porterâs burden passâd along,
But servâd for burden to his song:
Each window like a pillâry appears,
With heads thrust through, nailâd by the ears:
All trades run in as to the sight
Of monsters, or their dear delight
The gallows-tree, when cutting purse
Breeds busâness for heroic verse,
Which none does hear, but would have hung
Tâ have been the theme of such a song.
Those two together long had livâd,
In mansion prudently contrivâd,
Where neither tree nor house could bar
The free detection of a star
And nigh an ancient obelisk
Was raisâd by him, found out by Fisk,114
On which was a written, not in words,
But hieroglyphic mute of birds,
Many rare pithy saws concerning
The worth of astrologic learning.
From top of this there hung a rope,
To which he fastenâd telescope:
The spectacles with which the stars
He reads in smallest characters.
It happenâd as a boy, one night,
Did fly his tassel of a kite,
The strangest long-wingâd hawk that flies,
That, like a bird of Paradise,
Or heraldâs martlet, has no legs,
Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs;
His train was six yards long, milk-white,
At thâ end of which there hung a light,
Inclosâd in lantern, made of paper,
That far off like a star did appear:
This Sidrophel by chance espyâd,
And with amazement staring wide,
Bless us! quoth he, what dreadful wonder
Is that appears in heaven yonder?
A comet, and without a beard!
Or star that neâer before appearâd?
Iâm certain âtis not in the scrowl
Of all those beasts, and fish, and fowl,
With which, like Indian plantations,
The learned stock the constellations;
Nor those that draw for signs have been
To thâ houses where the planets inn.
It must be supernatural,
Unless it be that cannon-ball115
That, shot iâ thâ air point-blank upright,
Was borne to that prodigious height,
That, learnâd philosophers maintain.
It neâer came backwards down again,
But in the airy region yet
Hangs like the body of Mahomet:
For if it be above the shade
That by the earthâs round bulk is made,
âTis probable it may from far
Appear no bullet, but a star.
This said, he to his engine flew,
Placâd near at hand, in open view,
And raisâd it till it levellâd right
Against the glow-worm tail of kite;
Then peeping through, Bless us! (quoth he)
It is a planet, now, I see;
And, if I err not, by his proper
Figure, thatâs like tobacco-stopper,
It should be Saturn. Yes, âtis clear
âTis Saturn; but what makes him there?
Heâs got between the dragonâs tail
And farther leg behind oâ thâ whale.
Pray heavân avert the fatal omen,
For âtis a prodigy not common;
And can no less than the worldâs end,
Or Natureâs funeral, portend.
With that he fell again to pry
Throâ perspective more wistfully,
When by mischance the fatal string,
That kept the towâring fowl on wing,
Breaking, down fell the star. Well shot,
Quoth Whachum, who right wisely thought
Hâ had levellâd at a star, and hit it:
But Sidrophel, more subtle-witted,
Cryâd out, What horrible and fearful
Portent is this, to see a star fall?
It threatens nature, and the doom
Will not be long before it come!
When stars do fall, âtis plain enough,
The day of judgmentâs not far off;
As lately âtwas revealâd to Sedgwick,116
And some of us find out by magic.
Then since the time we have to live
In this worldâs shortenâd, let us strive
To make our best advantage of it,
And pay our losses with our profit.
This feat fell out not long before
The Knight, upon the forenamâd score,
In quest of Sidrophel advancing
Was now in prospect of the mansion
Whom he discovâring, turnâd his glass,
And found far off, âtwas Hudibras.
Whachum, (quoth he), look yonder, some
To try or use our art are come:
The oneâs the learned Knight: seek out,
And pump âem what they come about.
Whachum advancâd, with all submissâness,
Tâ accost âem, but much more their busâness:
He held a stirrup, while the Knight
From leathern bare-bones did alight;
And taking from his hand the bridle,
Approachâd the dark Squire to unriddle.
He gave him first the time oâ thâ day,
And welcomâd him, as he might say:
He askâd him whence he came, and whither
Their busâness lay? Quoth Ralpho, Hither.
Did you not lose? Quoth Ralpho, Nay,
Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way!
Your Knightâ âQuoth Ralpho, Is a lover,
And pains intolerable doth suffer:
For loversâ hearts are not their own hearts,
Nor lights, nor lungs, and so forth downwards.
What time, (quoth Whachum), Sir?â âToo long;
Three years it off and on has hung.â â
Quoth he, I meant what time oâ thâ day âtisâ â
Quoth Ralpho, Between seven and eight âtis.â â
Why then (quoth Whachum), my small art
Tells me, the dame has a hard heart,
Or great estate.â âQuoth Ralph, A jointure,
Which makes him have so hot a mind tâ her.
Meanwhile the Knight was making water,
Before he fell upon the matter,
Which having done, the Wizard steps in,
To give him suitable reception;
But kept his busâness at a bay,
Till Whachum put him in the way;
Who having now, by Ralphoâs light,
Expounded thâ errand of the Knight,
And what he came to know, drew near,
To whisper in the conjârerâs ear,
Which he prevented thus: What wasât,
Quoth he, that I was saying last,
Before these gentlemen arrivâd?
Quoth Whachum, Venus you retrievâd,
In opposition with Mars,
And no benign and friendly stars
Tâ allay the effect.â âQuoth Wizard, So!
In Virgo? Ha!â âQuoth Whachum, No.
Has Saturn nothing to do in it?
One-tenth of âs circle to
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