English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. May. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. May Come out o’door, ’tis Spring! ’tis Maÿ The trees be green, the vields be gaÿ; The weather’s warm, the winter blast, Wi’ all his traïn o’ clouds, is past; The zun do rise while vo’k do sleep. To teäke a […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. Address to a Haggis. Роберт Бернс. Ода шотландскому пудингу
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) Address to a Haggis FAIR fa’ your honest sonsie face, Great chieftain o’ the puddin’-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o’ a grace As lang’s my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. Bringèn Woone Gwaïn o’ Zundays. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. Bringèn Woone Gwaïn o’ Zundays Ah! John! how I do love to look At theäse green hollor, an’ the brook Among the withies that do hide The stream, a-growèn at the zide; An’ at the road athirt the wide An’ shallow […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. Evenèn Twilight. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. Evenèn Twilight Ah! they vew zummers brought us round The happiest days that we’ve a-vound. When in the orcha’d, that did stratch To westward out avore the patch Ov high-bough’d wood, an’ shelve to catch The western zun-light, we did meet […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. Vellèn o’ the Tree. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. Vellèn o’ the Tree Aye, the girt elem tree out in little hwome groun’ War a-stannèn this mornèn, an’ now’s a-cut down. Aye, the girt elem tree, so big roun’ an’ so high, Where the mowers did goo to their drink, […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. Dock-Leaves. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. Dock-Leaves The dock-leaves that do spread so wide Up yonder zunny bank’s green zide, Do bring to mind what we did do At plaÿ wi’ dock-leaves years agoo: How we,—when nettles had a-stung Our little hands, when we wer young,— Did […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. Woodcom’ Feäst. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. Woodcom’ Feäst Come, Fanny, come! put on thy white, ’Tis Woodcom’ feäst, good now! to-night. Come! think noo mwore, you silly maïd, O’ chickèn drown’d, or ducks a-straÿ’d; Nor mwope to vind thy new frock’s taïl A-tore by hitchèn in a […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. The Milk-Maïd o’ the Farm. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. The Milk-Maïd o’ the Farm O Poll’s the milk-maïd o’ the farm! An’ Poll’s so happy out in groun’, Wi’ her white pail below her eärm As if she wore a goolden crown. An’ Poll don’t zit up half the […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. Easter Monday. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. Easter Monday An’ zoo o’ Monday we got drough Our work betimes, an ax’d a vew Young vo’k vrom Stowe an’ Coom, an’ zome Vrom uncle’s down at Grange, to come. An’ they so spry, wi’ merry smiles. Did beät the […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. Leädy-Day, an’ Riddèn House. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. Leädy-Day, an’ Riddèn House Aye, back at Leädy-Day, you know, I come vrom Gullybrook to Stowe; At Leädy-Day I took my pack O’ rottletraps, an’ turn’d my back Upon the weather-beäten door, That had a-screen’d, so long avore. The mwost that […]
English Poetry. William Barnes. First Collection. Spring. The Woodlands. Уильям Барнс.
William Barnes (Уильям Барнс) First Collection. Spring. The Woodlands O spread ageän your leaves an’ flow’rs, Lwonesome woodlands! zunny woodlands! Here underneath the dewy show’rs O’ warm-aïr’d spring-time, zunny woodlands! As when, in drong or open ground, Wi’ happy bwoyish heart I vound The twitt’rèn birds a-buildèn round […]
English Poetry. William Cullen Bryant. The Death of the Flowers. Уильям Каллен Брайант.
William Cullen Bryant (Уильям Каллен Брайант) The Death of the Flowers THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. Ae Fond Kiss. Роберт Бернс. «Поцелуй, – и дрогнут веки…»
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) Ae Fond Kiss Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae farewell, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? […]
English Poetry. Emily Elizabeth Dickinson. In a Library. Эмили Дикинсон.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) In a Library A PRECIOUS, mouldering pleasure ‘t is To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take, And warming in our own, A passage back, or two, to make […]
English Poetry. Emily Elizabeth Dickinson. The Grass. Эмили Дикинсон.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) The Grass The grass so little has to do, — A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain, And stir all day to pretty tunes The breezes fetch along, And hold the sunshine in its lap And […]
English Poetry. Emily Elizabeth Dickinson. Wild Nights. Эмили Дикинсон.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) Wild Nights Wild nights! Wild nights! Were I with thee, Wild nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds To a heart in port, Done with the compass, Done with the chart. Rowing in Eden! Ah! the sea! Might I but […]
English Poetry. Emily Elizabeth Dickinson. No Time to Hate. Эмили Дикинсон.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) No Time to Hate I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity. Nor had I time to love, but since Some industry must be, The little toil of […]
English Poetry. Emily Elizabeth Dickinson. I Measure Every Grief I Meet. Эмили Дикинсон.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) * * * I measure every grief I meet With analytic eyes; I wonder if it weighs like mine, Or has an easier size. I wonder if they bore it long, Or did it just begin? I could not tell the date […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. To Mr. Renton, Berwick. Роберт Бернс. Мистеру Рентону из Бервика
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) To Mr. Renton, Berwick Your billet, sir, I grant receipt; Wi’ you I’ll canter ony gate, Though ‘twere a trip to yon blue warl’, Where birkies march on burning marl: Then, sir, God willing, I’ll attend ye, And to his goodness I commend ye. […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. Lines Inscribed on a Platter. Роберт Бернс. Строки, начертанные на деревянной тарелке
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) Lines Inscribed on a Platter My blessings on ye, honest wife, I ne’er was here before: Ye’ve wealth o’ gear for spoon and knife – Heart could not wish for more. Heaven keep you clear of sturt and strife, Till far ayont four […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. Epigram («When ––– , deceased, to the devil went down…»). Роберт Бернс. Эпиграмма («Попал он в ад – и хоть бы хны…»)
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) Epigram («When ––– , deceased, to the devil went down…») When ––– , deceased, to the devil went down, ’Twas nothing would serve him but Satan’s own crown; ‘Thy fool’s head,’ quoth Satan, ‘that crown shall wear never, I grant thou’rt as wicked, but […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. To the Sighing Strephon. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) To the Sighing Strephon 1. Your pardon, my friend, If my rhymes did offend, Your pardon, a thousand times o’er; From friendship I strove, Your pangs to remove, But, I swear, I will do so no more. 2. […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Granta. A Medley. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Granta. A Medley Ἀργυρέαις λόγχαισι μάχου καὶ πάντα κρατήσεις. [Reply of the Pythian Oracle to Philip of Macedon.] 1. Oh! could Le Sage’s demon’s gift Be realis’d at my desire, This night my trembling form he’d lift To […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. Desire. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) Desire Thou, who dost dwell alone; Thou, who dost know thine own; Thou, to whom all are known, From the cradle to the grave,– Save, O, save! From the world’s temptations; From tribulations; From that fierce anguish Wherein we languish; From that torpor […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Reply to some Verses of J. M. B. Pigot, Esq., on the Cruelty of his Mistress. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Reply to some Verses of J. M. B. Pigot, Esq., on the Cruelty of his Mistress 1. Why, Pigot, complain Of this damsel’s disdain, Why thus in despair do you fret? For months you may try, Yet, believe me, a […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. Extempore. On Passing a Lady’s Carriage. Роберт Бернс. Экспромт по поводу кареты некоей леди, проехавшей мимо
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) Extempore. On Passing a Lady’s Carriage If you rattle along like your mistress’s tongue, Your speed will out-rival the dart: But, a fly for your load, you’ll break down on the road, If your stuff be as rotten’s her heart. 1794 Перевод на русский […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. The Toadeater. Роберт Бернс. Лизоблюд
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) The Toadeater Of Lordly acquaintance you boast, And the Dukes that you dined wi’ yestreen, Yet an insect’s an insect at most, Tho’ it crawl on the curl of a Queen! 1791 Перевод на русский язык Лизоблюд Пускай с тобою дружит […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. Remorse. Роберт Бернс. Раскаяние
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) Remorse Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace, That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish, Beyond comparison the worst are those That to our folly or our guilt we owe. In every other circumstance, the mind Has this to […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. An Occasional Prologue. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) An Occasional Prologue Delivered by the Author Previous to the Performance of “The Wheel of Fortune” at a Private Theatre Since the refinement of this polish’d age Has swept immoral raillery from the stage; Since taste has now expung’d […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. To Lesbia!. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) To Lesbia! 1. Lesbia! since far from you I’ve rang’d, Our souls with fond affection glow not; You say, ’tis I, not you, have chang’d, I’d tell you why,—but yet I know not. 2. Your polish’d brow […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. To a Beautiful Quaker. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) To a Beautiful Quaker Sweet girl! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne’er forget; And though we ne’er may meet again, Remembrance will thy form retain; I would not say, “I love,” but still, My senses struggle with my […]
English Poetry. Anna Laetitia Barbauld. Song 3 (LEAVE me, simple shepherd, leave me). Анна-Летиция Барбо.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) Song 3 (LEAVE me, simple shepherd, leave me) Sylvia. LEAVE me, simple shepherd, leave me; Drag no more a hopeless chain: I cannot like, nor would deceive thee; Love the maid that loves again. Corin. Tho’ more gentle nymphs surround me, Kindly […]
English Poetry. Anna Laetitia Barbauld. The Invitation, to Miss B—. Анна-Летиция Барбо.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) The Invitation, to Miss B— Hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori, Hic nemus: hic ipso tecum consumerer ævo. Virgil. HEALTH to my friend, and long unbroken years, By storms unruffled and unstain’d by tears: Wing’d by new joys may each […]
English Poetry. Anna Laetitia Barbauld. Song 5 (AS near a weeping spring reclin’d). Анна-Летиция Барбо.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) Song 5 (AS near a weeping spring reclin’d) AS near a weeping spring reclin’d The beauteous Araminta pin’d, And mourn’d a false ungrateful youth; While dying echoes caught the sound, And spread the soft complaints around Of broken vows and alter’d truth; […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. A Dream. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) A Dream Was it a dream? We sail’d, I thought we sail’d, Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream, Border’d, each bank, with pines; the morning sun, On the wet umbrage of their glossy tops, On the red pinings of their forest-floor, Drew […]
English Poetry. John Keats. Ode to Autumn. Джон Китс. Ода к осени
John Keats (Джон Китс) Ode to Autumn 1 Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all […]
English Poetry. Anna Laetitia Barbauld. An Inventory of the Furniture in Dr. Priestley’s Study. Анна-Летиция Барбо.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) An Inventory of the Furniture in Dr. Priestley’s Study A map of every country known, With not a foot of land his own. A list of folks that kicked a dust On this poor globe, from Ptol. the First; He hopes,—indeed it is […]
English Poetry. Anna Laetitia Barbauld. Corsica. Анна-Летиция Барбо.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) Corsica ———————— A manly race Of unsubmitting spirit, wise and brave; Who still thro’ bleeding ages struggled hard To hold a generous undiminished state; Too much in vain! James Thomson. HAIL generous Corsica! unconquer’d isle! The fort of freedom; that amidst […]
English Poetry. Anna Laetitia Barbauld. Song 2 (IF ever thou didst joy to bind). Анна-Летиция Барбо.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) Song 2 (IF ever thou didst joy to bind) IF ever thou didst joy to bind Two hearts in equal pasion join’d, O son of Venus! hear me now, And bid Florella bless my vow. If any bliss reserv’d for me Thou […]
English Poetry. Anna Laetitia Barbauld. Hymn 5 (AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes). Анна-Летиция Барбо.
Anna Laetitia Barbauld (Анна-Летиция Барбо) Hymn 5 (AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes) AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes, See where thy foes against thee rise, In long array, a numerous host; Awake, my soul, or thou art lost. Here giant danger threat’ning stands Mustering […]