Black Beetles in Amber - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 37

BY FALSE PRETENSES

John S. Hittell, whose sovereign genius wieldsThe quill his tributary body yields;The author of an opera—that is,All but the music and libretto's his:A work renowned, whose formidable name,Linked with his own, repels the assault of fameFrom the high vantage of a dusty shelf,Secure from all the world except himself;—Who told the tale of "Culture" in a screedThat all might understand if some would read;—Master of poesy and lord of prose,Dowered, like a setter, with a double nose;That one for Erato, for Clio this;He flushes both—not his fault if we miss;—Judge of the painter's art, who'll straight proclaimThe hue of any color you can name,And knows a painting with a canvas backDistinguished from a duck by the duck's quack;—This thinker and philosopher, whose workIs famous from Commercial street to Turk,Has got a fortune now, his talent's meed.A woman left it him who could not read,And so went down to death's eternal nightSweetly unconscious that the wretch could write.