My fame flew wide from port to port,
And fortune sailed on board my vessels
Mr. Cotton.
What did you trade in?
Peer.
I did most
In negro slaves for Carolina,
And idol-images for China.
Monsieur Ballon.
Fi donc![1]
Trumpeterstråle.
The devil, Uncle Gynt!
Peer.
You think, no doubt, the business hovered
On the outer verge of the allowable?
Myself I felt the same thing keenly.
It struck me even as odious.
But, trust me, when you've once begun,
It's hard to break away again.
At any rate it's no light thing,
In such a vast trade-enterprise,
That keeps whole thousands in employ,
To break off wholly, once for all.
That "once for all" I can't abide,
But own, upon the other side,
That I have always felt respect
For what are known as consequences;
And that to overstep the bounds
Has ever somewhat daunted me.
Besides, I had begun to age.
- ↑ So in original.
