  A COUNTRY squire, of greater wealth than wit (For fools are often bless’d with fortune’s smile), Had built a splendid house, and furnish’d it In splendid style. “One thing is wanted,” said a friend; “for, though The rooms are fine, the furniture profuse, You lack a library, dear sir, for show, If not for use.” “’Tis true; but, zounds!” replied the squire with glee, “The lumber-room in yonder northern wing (I wonder I ne’er thought of it) will be The very thing. “I’ll have it fitted up without delay With shelves and presses of the newest mode. And rarest wood, befitting every way A squire’s abode. “And when the whole is ready, I’ll despatch My coachman—a most knowing fellow—down, To buy me, by admeasurement, a batch Of books in town.” But ere the library was half supplied With all its pomp of cabinet and shelf, The booby squire repented him, and cried Unto himself: “This room is much more roomy than I thought; Ten thousand volumes hardly would suffice To fill it, and would cost, however bought, A plaguy price. “Now, as I only want them for their looks, It might, on second thoughts, be just as good, And cost me next to nothing, if the books Were made of wood. “It shall be so. I’ll give the shaven deal A coat of paint—a colourable dress, To look like calf or vellum, and conceal Its nakedness. And gilt and letter’d with the author’s name, Whatever is most excellent and rare Shall be, or seem to be (’tis all the same), Assembled there.“ The work was done; the simulated hoards Of wit and wisdom round the chamber stood. In bindings some; and some, of course, in boards, Were all of wood. From bulky folios down to slender twelves, The choicest tomes in many an even row, Display’d their letter’d backs upon the shelves, A goodly show. With such a stock, which seemingly surpass’d The best collection ever form’d in Spain, What wonder if the owner grew at last Supremely vain? What wonder, as he paced from shelf to shelf, And conn’d their titles, that the Squire began, Despite his ignorance, to think himself A learned man? Let every amateur, who merely looks To backs and bindings, take the hint, and sell His costly library; for painted books Would serve as well. Tomas Yriarte. |
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