Читать книгу Saint Abe and His Seven Wives - Buchanan Robert Williams - Страница 7

Joe paused, for down the mountain's brow

His hastening horses trotted now.

Into a canyon green and light,

Thro' which a beck was sparkling light,

Quickly we wound. Joe Wilson lit

His cutty pipe, and suck'd at it

In silence grim; and when it drew,

Puff after puff of smoke he blew,

With blank eye fixed on vacancy.

At last he turned again to me,

And spoke with bitter indignation

The epilogue of his narration.

"Waal, stranger, guess my story's told,

The Apostle beat and I was bowl'd.

Reckon I might have won if I

Had allays been at hand to try;

But I was busy out of sight,

And he was theer, morn, noon, and night,

Playing his cards, and waal it weer

For him I never caught him theer.

To cut the story short, I guess

He got the Prophet to say 'yes,'

And Cissy without much ado

Gev her consent to hev him too;

And one fine morning off they druv

To what he called the Abode of Love —

A dem'd old place, it seems to me,

Jest like a dove-box on a tree,

Where every lonesome woman-soul

Sits shivering in her own hole,

And on the outside, free to choose,

The old cock-pigeon struts and coos.

I've heard from many a one that Ciss

Has found her blunder out by this,

And she'd prefer for company

A brisk young chap, tho' poor, like me,

Than the sixth part of him she's won —

The holy Hiram Iligginson.

I've got a peep at her since then,

When she's crawl'd out of thet theer den,

But she's so pale and thin and tame

I shouldn't know her for the same,

No flesh to pinch upon her cheek,

Her legs gone thin, no voice to speak,

Dabby and crush'd, and sad and flabby,

Sucking a wretched squeaking baby;

And all the fun and all the light

Gone from her face, and left it white.

Her cheek 'll take 'feeble flush,

But hesn't blood enough to blush;

Tries to seem modest, peart and sly,

And brighten up if I go by,

But from the corner of her eyes

Peeps at me quietly, and sighs.

Reckon her luck has been a stinger!

She'd bolt if I held up my finger;

But tho' I'm rough, and wild, and free,

Take a Saint's leavings – no not me!

You've heerd of Vampires – them that rise

At dead o' night with flaming eyes,

And into women's beds'll creep

To suck their blood when they're asleep.

I guess these Saints are jest the same,

Sucking the life out is their game;

And tho' it ain't in the broad sun

Or in the open streets it's done,

There ain't a woman they clap eyes on

Their teeth don't touch, their touch don't pison;

Thet's their dem'd way in this yer spot —

Grrr! git along, hoss! dem you, trot!"

From pool to pool the wild beck sped

Beside us, dwindled to a thread.

With mellow verdure fringed around

It sang along with summer sound:

Here gliding into a green glade;

Here darting from a nest of shade

With sudden sparkle and quick cry,

As glad again to meet the sky;

Here whirling off with eager will

And quickening tread to turn a mill;

Then stealing from the busy place

With duskier depths and wearier pace

In the blue void above the beck

Sailed with us, dwindled to a speck,

The hen-hawk; and from pools below

The blue-wing'd heron oft rose slow,

And upward pass'd with measured beat

Of wing to seek some new retreat.

Blue was the heaven and darkly bright,

Suffused with throbbing golden light,

And in the burning Indian ray

A million insects hummed at play.

Soon, by the margin of the stream,

We passed a driver with his team

Bound for the City; then a hound

Afar off made a dreamy sound;

And suddenly the sultry track

Left the green canyon at our back,

And sweeping round a curve, behold!

We came into the yellow gold

Of perfect sunlight on the plain;

And Joe, abruptly drawing rein,

Said quick and sharp, shading his eyes

With sunburnt hand, "See, theer it

lies —

Theer's Sodom!"

And even as he cried,

The mighty Valley we espied,

Burning below us in one ray

Of liquid light that summer day;

And far away, 'mid peaceful gleams

Of flocks and herds and glistering streams,

Rose, fair as aught that fancy paints,

The wondrous City of the Saints!