Кстати, это удивительно, но мне не удалось найти в интернете текст оригинала упомянутого в одной из подсказок стихотворения Честертона.
А теперь удалось (мощь ИИ
unleashed), правда, гугло-ИИ пришлось поупрашивать в три промпта, и на втором оно мне впервые предложило какие-то персонализированные сервисы (отклонил). Стихотворение можно увидеть на Гутенберге в книге Maisie Ward
https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18707/pg18707.html, и там оно упоминается как
unpublished ballad. Приведу здесь соответствующий фрагмент:
Цитата:
The Eve of the War (1911-1915)
DURING THE EARLIER YEARS of the New Witness Gilbert had nothing to do with the editing, and his contributions to it were only part of the continuing volume of his weekly journalism. It would be almost impossible to trace all the articles in papers and magazines that were never republished: the volumes of essays appearing year by year probably contained the best among them. He was still in 1911 writing for the Daily News and every week until his death he continued to do "Our Notebook" for the Illustrated London News. I have found an unpublished ballade he wrote on the subject:
BALLADE OF A PERIODICAL
In icy circles by the Behring Strait,
In moony jungles where the tigers roar,
In tropic isles where civil servants wait,
And wonder what the deuce they're waiting for,
In lonely lighthouses beyond the Nore,
In English country houses crammed with Jews,
Men still will study, spell, perpend and pore
And read the Illustrated London News.
Our fathers read it at the earlier date
And twirled the funny whiskers that they wore
Ere little Levy got his first estate
Or Madame Patti got her first encore.
While yet the cannon of the Christian tore
The lords of Delhi in their golden shoes
Men asked for all the news from Singapore
And read the Illustrated London News.
But I, whose copy is extremely late
And ought to have been sent an hour before
I still sit here and trifle with my fate
And idly write another ballad more.
I know it is too late; and all is o'er,
And all my writings they will now refuse
I shall be sacked next Monday. So be sure
And read the Illustrated London News.
ENVOY
Prince, if in church the sermon seems a bore
Put up your feet upon the other pews,
Light a Fabrica de Tabagos Flor
And read the Illustrated London News.
-- добавлено через 42 минуты --... наверное, Театральная баллада или Баллада самоубийцы более пронзительны, но эта для меня где-то рядом с ними. В оригинале она кажется помрачнее, перевод все же не буквальный, художественный
