3: What the Anvil!

Follow Up

Source (Google Books | Full Text)

Three quarks for Muster Mark!
Sure he hasn’t got much of a bark
And sure any he has it’s all beside the mark.
But O, Wreneagle Almighty, wouldn’t un be a sky of a lark
To see that old buzzard whooping about for uns shirt in the dark
And he hunting round for uns speckled trousers around by Palmerstown Park?
Hohohoho, moulty Mark!
You’re the rummest old rooster ever flopped out of a Noah’s ark
And you think you’re cock of the wark.
Fowls, up! Tristy’s the spry young spark
That’ll tread her and wed her and bed her and red her
Without ever winking the tail of a feather
And that’s how that chap’s going to make his money and mark!

Translation by Andrey Rene (RUS)

Тремя кварками Мастьсера Марка!
Его жизнь даже не полубархат,
Что ни есть – то ни шатко, ни валко.
Зато, о Птицарица небесная, ён уже что-то накаркал –
Словно старый баклан щегольнёт он пред нас в темноте своей майкой!
Как охоч он пред нас брюк крапчатых достать среди Палмерстан-парка!
Хохохо, перья сыплются с Марка!
Вы чуднейший петух, что вываливался вон из Ноевой барки,
Говоря, что он вольная птаха.
О парящая дичь! У Печальничка более юная хватка
Попадать, наподдать, нападать на неё
И отпасть, не моргнув ни хвостом, ни пером –
Вот как просто получит парнишка тот славу с достатком!

“Quark” on Wikipedia and on Wiktionary

The Tyger:

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

History of publication

“The Tyger” in copy F

Language on the Map