Охота на Снарка. Пища для ума - страница 7

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         Had been proved an infringement of right.

The maker of Bonnets ferociously planned

         A novel arrangement of bows:

While the Billiard-marker with quivering hand

         Was chalking the tip of his nose.

But the Butcher turned nervous, and dressed himself

                                                                      fine,

         With yellow kid gloves and a ruff —

Said he felt it exactly like going to dine,

         Which the Bellman declared was all “stuff.”

“Introduce me, now there’s a good fellow,” he said,

         “If we happen to meet it together!”

And the Bellman, sagaciously nodding his head,

         Said “That must depend on the weather.”

The Beaver went simply galumphing about,

         At seeing the Butcher so shy:

And even the Baker, though stupid and stout,

         Made an effort to wink with one eye.

“Be a man!” said the Bellman in wrath, as he heard

         The Butcher beginning to sob.

“Should we meet with a Jubjub, that desperate bird,

         We shall need all our strength for the job!”

Fit the Fifth

The Beaver’s Lesson

They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;

         They pursued it with forks and hope;

They threatened its life with a railway-share;

         They charmed it with smiles and soap.

Then the Butcher contrived an ingenious plan

         For making a separate sally;

And had fixed on a spot unfrequented by man,

         A dismal and desolate valley.

But the very same plan to the Beaver occurred:

         It had chosen the very same place:

Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word,

         The disgust that appeared in his face.

Each thought he was thinking of nothing but “Snark”

         And the glorious work of the day;

And each tried to pretend that he did not remark

         That the other was going that way.

But the valley grew narrow and narrower still,

         And the evening got darker and colder,

Till (merely from nervousness, not from goodwill)

         They marched along shoulder to shoulder.

Then a scream, shrill and high, rent the shuddering sky,

         And they knew that some danger was near:

The Beaver turned pale to the tip of its tail,

         And even the Butcher felt queer.

He thought of his childhood, left far far behind —

         That blissful and innocent state —

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