The Complete Works: Poetry, Plays, Letters and Extensive Biographies. John Keats. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Keats
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me what you want, Eban;

      The Emperor is now in a huge rage,

      ’Tis nine to one he’ll give you the rattan!

      Let us away!” Away together ran

      The plain-dress’d sage and spangled blackamoor,

      Nor rested till they stood to cool, and fan,

      And breathe themselves at th’ Emperor’s chamber door,

      When Eban thought he heard a soft imperial snore.

XXXVII

      “I thought you guess’d, foretold, or prophesy’d,

      That’s Majesty was in a raving fit?”

      “He dreams,” said Hum, “or I have ever lied,

      That he is tearing you, sir, bit by bit.”

      “He’s not asleep, and you have little wit,”

      Reply’d the page; “that little buzzing noise,

      Whate’er your palmistry may make of it,

      Comes from a play-thing of the Emperor’s choice,

      From a Man-Tiger-Organ, prettiest of his toys.”

XXXVIII

      Eban then usher’d in the learned Seer:

      Elfinan’s back was turn’d, but, ne’ertheless,

      Both, prostrate on the carpet, ear by ear,

      Crept silently, and waited in distress,

      Knowing the Emperor’s moody bitterness;

      Eban especially, who on the floor ‘gan

      Tremble and quake to death, he feared less

      A dose of senna-tea or nightmare Gorgon

      Than the Emperor when he play’d on his Man-Tiger-Organ.

XXXIX

      They kiss’d nine times the carpet’s velvet face

      Of glossy silk, soft, smooth, and meadow-green,

      Where the close eye in deep rich fur might trace

      A silver tissue, scantly to be seen,

      As daisies lurk’d in June-grass, buds in green;

      Sudden the music ceased, sudden the hand

      Of majesty, by dint of passion keen,

      Doubled into a common fist, went grand,

      And knock’d down three cut glasses, and his best inkstand.

XL

      Then turning round, he saw those trembling two:

      “Eban,” said he, “as slaves should taste the fruits

      Of diligence, I shall remember you

      Tomorrow, or next day, as time suits,

      In a finger conversation with my mutes,

      Begone! for you, Chaldean! here remain!

      Fear not, quake not, and as good wine recruits

      A conjurer’s spirits, what cup will you drain?

      Sherry in silver, hock in gold, or glass’d champagne?”

XLI

      “Commander of the faithful!” answer’d Hum,

      “In preference to these, I’ll merely taste

      A thimble-full of old Jamaica rum.”

      “A simple boon!” said Elfinan; “thou may’st

      Have Nantz, with which my morning-coffee’s lac’d.”

      “I’ll have a glass of Nantz, then,” said the Seer,

      “Made racy (sure my boldness is misplac’d!)

      With the third part (yet that is drinking dear!)

      Of the least drop of crème de citron, crystal clear.”

XLII

      “I pledge you, Hum! and pledge my dearest love,

      My Bertha!” “Bertha! Bertha!” cry’d the sage,

      “I know a many Berthas!” “Mine’s above

      All Berthas!” sighed the Emperor. “I engage,”

      Said Hum, “in duty, and in vassalage,

      To mention all the Berthas in the earth;

      There’s Bertha Watson, and Miss Bertha Page,

      This fam’d for languid eyes, and that for mirth,

      There’s Bertha Blount of York, and Bertha Knox of Perth.”

XLIII

      “You seem to know” “I do know,” answer’d Hum,

      “Your Majesty’s in love with some fine girl

      Named Bertha; but her surname will not come,

      Without a little conjuring.” “’Tis Pearl,

      ’Tis Bertha Pearl! What makes my brain so whirl?

      And she is softer, fairer than her name!”

      “Where does she live?” ask’d Hum. “Her fair locks curl

      So brightly, they put all our fays to shame!

      Live? O! at Canterbury, with her old grand-dame.”

XLIV

      “Good! good!” cried Hum, “I’ve known her from a child!

      She is a changeling of my management;

      She was born at midnight in an Indian wild;

      Her mother’s screams with the striped tiger’s blent,

      While the torch-bearing slaves a halloo sent

      Into the jungles; and her palanquin,

      Rested amid the desert’s dreariment,

      Shook with her agony, till fair were seen

      The little Bertha’s eyes ope on the stars serene.”

XLV

      “I can’t say,” said the monarch; “that may be

      Just as it happen’d, true or else a bam!

      Drink up your brandy, and sit down by me,

      Feel, feel my pulse, how much in love I am;

      And if your science is not all a sham.

      Tell me some means to get the lady here.”

      “Upon my honour!” said the son of Cham,

      “She is my dainty changeling, near and dear,

      Although her story sounds at first a little queer.”

XLVI

      “Convey her to me, Hum, or by my crown,

      My sceptre, and my cross-surmounted globe,

      I’ll knock you” “Does your majesty mean down?

      No, no, you never could my feelings probe

      To such a depth!” The Emperor took his robe,

      And wept upon its purple palatine,

      While Hum continued, shamming half a sob,

      “In Canterbury doth your lady shine?

      But let me cool your brandy with a little wine.”

XLVII

      Whereat a narrow Flemish glass he took,

      That since belong’d to Admiral De Witt,

      Admir’d it with a connoisseuring look,

      And with the ripest claret crowned it,

      And, ere the lively bead could burst and flit,

      He turn’d it quickly,