Читать книгу The Pedestrian's Guide through North Wales. A tour performed in 1837 онлайн

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“From night to morn—from morn to dewy eve,

A summer’s day!”

He then looked round him and fancied himself in Johnson’s happy valley, himself the prince, and, like him, discontented with his lot, when he was suddenly aroused to a sense of his real situation by the pointed application of a pitchfork, unceremoniously handled by a sturdy boor, who saluted him with, “Where the devil didst thee come from?” His indignant spirit now gave vent to its uncontrollable fury, in a torrent of blank verse! He felt that, like Hamlet, he could

“Do such deeds

As hell itself would quake to look upon.”

But, like Posthumous, he was doubtful which to select. His soul was in arms!—and the thrice valiant embryo Richmond exclaimed,

“Thrice is he arm’d that hath his quarrel just;

And he but naked, tho’ lock’d up in steel,

Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.”

“I fell into this damned place through your neglect in leaving the trap door open, you bloody and devouring boar,”—eyeing him all the while with a glance that seemed to say, “If I thought you wholesome, I’d turn cannibal.”