Читать книгу The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe - Various - Страница 24

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A delicate pinch! oh how it tingles up

The titillated nose, and fills the eyes

And breast, till in one comfortable sneeze

The full-collected pleasure bursts at last!

Most rare Columbus! thou shalt be for this

The only Christopher in my calendar.

Why, but for thee the uses of the nose

Were half unknown, and its capacity

Of joy. The summer gale that from the heath,

At midnoon glowing with the golden gorse,

Bears its balsamic odor, but provokes

Not satisfies the sense; and all the flowers,

That with their unsubstantial fragrance tempt

And disappoint, bloom for so short a space,

That half the year the nostrils would keep lent,

But that the kind tobacconist admits

No winter in his work; when Nature sleeps

His wheels roll on, and still administer

A plenitude of joy, a tangible smell.

What are Peru and those Golcondan mines

To thee, Virginia? miserable realms,

The produce of inhuman toil, they send

Gold for the greedy, jewels for the vain.

But thine are COMMON comforts! … To omit

Pipe-panegyric and tobacco-praise,

Think what a general joy the snuff-box gives,

Europe, and far above Pizarro's name

Write Raleigh in thy records of renown!

Him let the school-boy bless if he behold

His master's box produced, for when he sees

The thumb and finger of authority

Stuffed up the nostrils: when hat, head, and wig

Shake all; when on the waistcoat black, brown dust,

From the oft-reiterated pinch profuse

Profusely scattered, lodges in its folds,

And part on the magistral table lights,

Part on the open book, soon blown away,

Full surely soon shall then the brow severe

Relax; and from vituperative lips

Words that of birch remind not, sounds of praise,

And jokes that MUST be laughed at shall proceed.