 | The Autobiography of John Galt |  |
127
THE SPANISH DOLLAR.
Behold a street in a Sicilian town,
Which still retains some name of old renown.
That red letica near yon portal placed,
Denotes the arrival of a stranger guest;
But lo! the actors, peasants they appear,
Hear what they say, and reverence what you hear.
Which still retains some name of old renown.
That red letica near yon portal placed,
Denotes the arrival of a stranger guest;
But lo! the actors, peasants they appear,
Hear what they say, and reverence what you hear.
“The solar blaze, my friend Antonio, quit,
And in the shadow of this chapel sit,
Hear on my knees lay thy unwashen face,
While through thy tangled locks I raise the chase;
Thine be the reveries of the drowsy joy,
And mine the bliss of seeking to destroy.”
And in the shadow of this chapel sit,
Hear on my knees lay thy unwashen face,
While through thy tangled locks I raise the chase;
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And mine the bliss of seeking to destroy.”
“Ah Ludovico! other thoughts excite
My eager scratching than that dear delight.
An English traveller has arrived to day,
And how to serve him all my wits essay.
Three prices for our vile Sicilian trash
The Ingleses pay, and never grudge the cash;
And this mi lord has given, oh best of men!
That Spanish dollar for my leanest hen.
The hen my wife, with salt and Indian spice,
In water stews, but what should be the price
With deep perplexity confounds my brain—
Oh, virgin mother! ease my doubt and pain!
For well you know, if I too much require,
For cooking, dishes, pepper, salt, and fire,
(The thought appals my very heart with dread,)
The unruly Englishman will break my head;
And if but what he freely pays, the loss
Till chance repair it, every joy will cross.”
My eager scratching than that dear delight.
An English traveller has arrived to day,
And how to serve him all my wits essay.
Three prices for our vile Sicilian trash
The Ingleses pay, and never grudge the cash;
And this mi lord has given, oh best of men!
That Spanish dollar for my leanest hen.
The hen my wife, with salt and Indian spice,
In water stews, but what should be the price
With deep perplexity confounds my brain—
Oh, virgin mother! ease my doubt and pain!
For well you know, if I too much require,
For cooking, dishes, pepper, salt, and fire,
(The thought appals my very heart with dread,)
The unruly Englishman will break my head;
And if but what he freely pays, the loss
Till chance repair it, every joy will cross.”
“The case, Antonio, is somewhat new,
But let us take it in a double view.
What! salt and spice, and fire and wife to cook,—
For half a dollar, friend, you well may look.”
But let us take it in a double view.
What! salt and spice, and fire and wife to cook,—
For half a dollar, friend, you well may look.”
“But half a dollar, Ludovico, oh!”
“Nay, good Antonio, I said not so;
Hear but my counsel, and you yet may own,
Two dollars more, and still preserve your crown.
In numerous parts, as lawyers charges frame,
Divide the costs, and still before hand claim;
The small half-dollar ne'er will breed a strife,
For pepper, salt, and fire, and work of wife;
Therefore reserve it for the last demand,
And humbly ask it with a beggar's hand.”
Hear but my counsel, and you yet may own,
Two dollars more, and still preserve your crown.
In numerous parts, as lawyers charges frame,
Divide the costs, and still before hand claim;
The small half-dollar ne'er will breed a strife,
For pepper, salt, and fire, and work of wife;
Therefore reserve it for the last demand,
And humbly ask it with a beggar's hand.”
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“Dear Ludovico, so I mean to do;
But how shall I obtain the other two?”
But how shall I obtain the other two?”
“Ay, there, Antonio, there the puzzle lies,
And plain it is that ne'er the shining prize
You by your own unaided wits would reach;
But let me share and I the art will teach.
Give me that dollar in your hand for fee,
And I will teach you how to gain still three.”
And plain it is that ne'er the shining prize
You by your own unaided wits would reach;
But let me share and I the art will teach.
Give me that dollar in your hand for fee,
And I will teach you how to gain still three.”
“Three, Ludovico! be the silver thine.
Oh! that I could exchange thy brains for mine.”
Oh! that I could exchange thy brains for mine.”
“Well, first, you know, the English must have wine;
To purchase that, a dollar boldly ask,
And fill a bottle from the huxter's cask;
Which, new and weak, no Englishman will taste,
So in the cask it may be all replaced.
Meanwhile your wife, with skilful hand may make
The stew such as no Englishman can take;
And other fare you must of course provide;
For eggs and bread he may be safely tried
A full half dollar, and for fruit you know,
Another ask;—why there you see are two;
And for the third you need not fear to try,
If he antiquities or toys will buy.
A worn tarri to sell, as wondrous rare;
A Punic coin—nay, but the thing is fair;
For our Sicilia was a Punic isle,
And rare that coin is the reward of toil.”
To purchase that, a dollar boldly ask,
And fill a bottle from the huxter's cask;
Which, new and weak, no Englishman will taste,
So in the cask it may be all replaced.
Meanwhile your wife, with skilful hand may make
The stew such as no Englishman can take;
And other fare you must of course provide;
For eggs and bread he may be safely tried
A full half dollar, and for fruit you know,
Another ask;—why there you see are two;
And for the third you need not fear to try,
If he antiquities or toys will buy.
A worn tarri to sell, as wondrous rare;
A Punic coin—nay, but the thing is fair;
For our Sicilia was a Punic isle,
And rare that coin is the reward of toil.”
“Ah, reprobates!” exclaimed a voice behind,
Aghast they turn, and see with ear inclined,
A full fed monk look slily from within.
All he had heard, and thus reproved their sin:
“Ah, reprobates! to me that dollar give,
Such knaves as you are hardly fit to live.
How now, Antonio, to cheat so willing,
Your famished hen is not worth half a shilling.
Go, Ludovico, sinner as thou art,
How durst thou counsels such as these impart?
Go instantly, this shocking sin to mend,
With your best tales the English lord attend;
For true it is, without his nation's aid,
Our holy church would drive a losing trade.”
Aghast they turn, and see with ear inclined,
A full fed monk look slily from within.
All he had heard, and thus reproved their sin:
“Ah, reprobates! to me that dollar give,
Such knaves as you are hardly fit to live.
How now, Antonio, to cheat so willing,
Your famished hen is not worth half a shilling.
130
How durst thou counsels such as these impart?
Go instantly, this shocking sin to mend,
With your best tales the English lord attend;
For true it is, without his nation's aid,
Our holy church would drive a losing trade.”
The peasants yield and slink away; the priest
Seeks the refectory and savory feast.
Seeks the refectory and savory feast.
| The Autobiography of John Galt | |