- end_line
- 11210
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:26.985Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 11162
- text
- with gorgeous new trappings; our train withdrew in the same state as
when we entered, that is, the one great captain-soldier leading, with a
mighty truncheon in his hand, and his troop making a lane through which
we proceeded to the saddles, they the while salaaming and paying extreme
obeisance to My Lord, which, indeed, was but their bounden duty, for he
was an Englishman and my noble master.
Now a Greek renegado, one long dwelling in Persia, a scholar, and at
whiles employed by My Lord, he being expert in divers tongues of both
continents, and learned in the chirography of the Persian and Arabic;
this polyglot infidel--the more shame to him for turning his back on his
Saviour--he being at the embassy one day, which was I know not what kind
of strange holiday with these folk; My Lord for his recreation, and by
way of challenge, being a little merry, as was his wont sometimes for a
brief space after dinner; he commanded the Greek to put those verses
into English rhyme if he could, and on the instant, or as soon soever as
might be. Upon which the Greek said: ‘My Lord, I will try; but I pray
thee give me wine’--glancing at the table where remained certain nickel
flasks of the choice vintages both of Persia and Cyprus; ‘Yes, wine, My
Lord,’ he repeated. ‘Now,’ demanded my master severely. ‘Bethink thee,
now, My Lord,’ quoth he, saluting; ‘this same Lugar-Lip’s verses being
all grapes, or veritably saturated with the ripe juice thereof, there is
no properly rendering them without a cup or two of the same; and,
behold, My Lord, I am sober.’
My master, after a moment seeming to debate in his mind whether this
proceeded from a strange familiar impudence in the varlet, or from an
honest superstition however silly, for he delivered himself very soberly
and discreetly, commanded wine to be served him; when the renegado,
quaffing like a good fellow his cup or two, which were indeed five, for
I took the tally; he, I say, quaffing at whiles, and all the time
holding the vellum book in one hand--and, sooth, but one hand he had,
the other having been smitten off by a scimetar, whether in honourable
fray, or by the executioner, I know not; he, ever and anon scanning the
page, humming and hooing to himself and swaying his body, like the
dervishes hereabouts, at last after this mighty ado, sang--he scarce
said it--the interpreted verses; which were these:--
‘Specks, tiny specks, in this translucent amber,
Your leave, bride-roses, may one pry and see?
How odd! a dainty little skeleton-chamber;
And--odder yet--sealed walls but windows be!
Death’s open secret.--Well, we are;
And here comes the jolly angel with the jar!’
Wherein, in the ultimate verse, Lugar-Lips did particularise, doubtless,
one of the twain in the _relievo_ of the little medallion on one side of
the vase, of which cunning piece I have in the foregoing made account.
- title
- Chunk 15