Poetry - John Keats (e books for reading txt) 📗
- Author: John Keats
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And for short cuts and turns, was nobody knew more. XXIV
It was the time when wholesale dealers close
Their shutters with a moody sense of wealth,
But retail dealers, diligent, let loose
The gas (objected to on score of health),
Convey’d in little solder’d pipes by stealth,
And make it flare in many a brilliant form,
That all the powers of darkness it repell’th,
Which to the oil-trade doth great scaith and harm,
And supersedeth quite the use of the glow-worm.
Eban, untempted by the pastry-cooks,
(Of pastry he got store within the palace,)
With hasty steps, wrapp’d cloak, and solemn looks,
Incognito upon his errand sallies,
His smelling-bottle ready for the allies;
He pass’d the hurdy-gurdies with disdain,
Vowing he’d have them sent on board the galleys;
Just as he made his vow, it ’gan to rain,
Therefore he call’d a coach, and bade it drive amain.
“I’ll pull the string,” said he, and further said,
“Polluted Jarvey! Ah, thou filthy hack!
Whose springs of life are all dried up and dead,
Whose linsey-woolsey lining hangs all slack,
Whose rug is straw, whose wholeness is a crack;
And evermore thy steps go clatter-clitter;
Whose glass once up can never be got back,
Who prov’st, with jolting arguments and bitter,
That ’tis of modern use to travel in a litter.
“Thou inconvenience! thou hungry crop
For all corn! thou snail-creeper to and fro,
Who while thou goest ever seem’st to stop,
And fiddle-faddle standest while you go;
I’ the morning, freighted with a weight of woe,
Unto some lazar-house thou journeyest,
And in the evening tak’st a double row
Of dowdies for some dance or party drest,
Besides the goods meanwhile thou movest east and west.
“By thy ungallant bearing and sad mien,
An inch appears the utmost thou couldst budge:
Yet at the slightest nod, or hint, or sign,
Round to the curb-stone patient dost thou trudge,
School’d in a beckon, learned in a nudge,
A dull-eyed Argus watching for a fare;
Quiet and plodding thou dost bear no grudge
To whisking tilburies, or phaetons rare,
Curricles, or mail-coaches, swift beyond compare.”
Philosophizing thus, he pull’d the check,
And bade the coachman wheel to such a street,
Who turning much his body, more his neck,
Louted full low, and hoarsely did him greet:
“Certes, Monsieur were best take to his feet,
Seeing his servant can no farther drive
For press of coaches, that to-night here meet,
Many as bees about a straw-capp’d hive,
When first for April honey into faint flowers they dive.”
Eban then paid his fare, and tiptoe went
To Hum’s hotel; and, as he on did pass
With head inclined, each dusky lineament
Show’d in the pearl-paved street as in a glass;
His purple vest, that ever peeping was
Rich from the fluttering crimson of his cloak,
His silvery trousers, and his silken sash
Tied in a burnish’d knot, their semblance took
Upon the mirror’d walls, wherever he might look.
He smiled at self, and, smiling, show’d his teeth,
And seeing his white teeth, he smiled the more;
Lifted his eyebrows, spurn’d the path beneath,
Show’d teeth again, and smiled as heretofore,
Until he knock’d at the magician’s door;
Where, till the porter answer’d, might be seen,
In the clear panel more he could adore,—
His turban wreathed of gold, and white, and green,
Mustachios, ear-ring, nose-ring, and his sabre keen.
“Does not your master give a rout to-night?”
Quoth the dark page; “Oh, no!” return’d the Swiss,
“Next door but one to us, upon the right,
The Magazin des Modes now open is
Against the Emperor’s wedding;—and, sir, this
My master finds a monstrous horrid bore;
As he retired, an hour ago I wis,
With his best beard and brimstone, to explore
And cast a quiet figure in his second floor.
“Gad! he’s obliged to stick to business!
For chalk, I hear, stands at a pretty price;
And as for aqua vitæ—there’s a mess!
The dentes sapientiœ of mice
Our barber tells me too are on the rise,—
Tinder’s a lighter article,—nitre pure
Goes off like lightning,—grains of Paradise
At an enormous figure!—stars not sure!—
Zodiac will not move without a slight douceur!
“Venus won’t stir a peg without a fee,
And master is too partial entre nous
To—” “Hush—hush!” cried Eban, “sure that is he
Coming downstairs,—by St. Bartholomew!
As backwards as he can,—is’t something new?
Or is ’t his custom, in the name of fun?”
“He always comes down backward, with one shoe”—
Return’d the porter—“off, and one shoe on,
Like, saving shoe for sock or stocking, my mad John!”
It was indeed the great Magician,
Feeling, with careful toe, for every stair,
And retrograding careful as he can,
Backwards and downwards from his own two pair:
“Salpietro!” exclaimed Hum, “is the dog there?
He’s always in my way upon the mat!”
“He’s in the kitchen, or the Lord knows where,”—
Replied the Swiss,—“the nasty, yelping brat!”
“Don’t beat him!” return’d Hum, and on the floor came pat.
Then facing right about, he saw the Page,
And said; “Don’t tell 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.
“I thought you guess’d, foretold, or prophesied,
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,”
Replied the Page, “that little buzzing noise,
Whate’er your palmistry may make
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