Shapes of Clay - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 66

THE FREE TRADER'S LAMENT.

Oft from a trading-boat I purchased spice And shells and corals, brought for my inspection From the fair tropics—paid a Christian price And was content in my fool's paradise, Where never had been heard the word "Protection." 'T was my sole island; there I dwelt alone— No customs-house, collector nor collection, But a man came, who, in a pious tone Condoled with me that I had never known The manifest advantage of Protection. So, when the trading-boat arrived one day, He threw a stink-pot into its mid-section. The traders paddled for their lives away, Nor came again into that haunted bay, The blessed home thereafter of Protection. Then down he sat, that philanthropic man, And spat upon some mud of his selection, And worked it, with his knuckles in a pan, To shapes of shells and coral things, and span A thread of song in glory of Protection. He baked them in the sun. His air devout Enchanted me. I made a genuflexion: "God help you, gentle sir," I said. "No doubt," He answered gravely, "I'll get on without Assistance now that we have got Protection." Thenceforth I bought his wares—at what a price For shells and corals of such imperfection! "Ah, now," said he, "your lot is truly nice." But still in all that isle there was no spice To season to my taste that dish, Protection.