English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. On a Distant View of the Village and School of Harrow on the Hill. Джордж Гордон Байрон. При виде издали деревни и школы в Гарроу-на-Холме
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) On a Distant View of the Village and School of Harrow on the Hill Oh! mihi prëteritos referat si Jupiter annos. – Virgil. 1. Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov’d recollection Embitters the present, compar’d with the […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Lines Written beneath an Elm in the Churchyard of Harrow. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Строки, написанные под вязом на кладбище в Гарроу
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Lines Written beneath an Elm in the Churchyard of Harrow SPOT of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh, Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky; Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod, With those I loved, thy soft […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. To a Lady, On Being Asked My Reason for Quitting England in the Spring. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Даме, которая спросила, почему я весной уезжаю из Англии
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) To a Lady, On Being Asked My Reason for Quitting England in the Spring 1. When Man, expell’d from Eden’s bowers, A moment linger’d near the gate, Each scene recall’d the vanish’d hours, And bade him curse his future fate. […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Прости! коль могут к небесам
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) * * * Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other’s weal avail’d on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh: Oh! more than tears of […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. On Robert Riddell. Роберт Бернс. Дом Роберта Ридделла
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) On Robert Riddell To Riddel, much-lamented man, This ivied cot was dear; Wanderer, dost value matchless worth? This ivied cot revere. 1794 Перевод на русский язык Дом Роберта Ридделла Перед тобою – скромный сельский дом; Со всех сторон увит густым плющом. Казалось бы, […]
English Poetry. Robert Burns. The Book-Worms. Роберт Бернс. Книжный червь
Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс) The Book-Worms Through and through the inspired leaves, Ye maggots, make your windings; But, oh! respect his lordship’s taste, And spare his golden bindings. 1787 Перевод на русский язык Книжный червь Страницы сверли и сверли, как бурав, Об этом не станет печалиться граф, […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Надпись на могиле ньюфаундлендской собаки
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe And storied urns record who rest below: When all is […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Stanzas to a Lady, on Leaving England. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Стансы к некой даме, написанные при отъезде из Англии
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Stanzas to a Lady, on Leaving England ‘Tis done—and shivering in the gale The bark unfurls her snowy sail; And whistling o’er the bending mast, Loud sings on high the fresh’ning blast; And I must from this land be gone, Because I […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. On Parting. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Стихи, написанные при расставании
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) On Parting The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours restore the gift Untainted back to thine. Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see: The tear that from thing […]
English Poetry. William Allingham. The Elf Singing. Вильям Аллингам.
William Allingham (Вильям Аллингам) The Elf Singing An Elf sat on a twig, He was not very big, He sang a little song, He did not think it wrong; But he was on a Wizard’s ground, Who hated all sweet sound. Elf, Elf, Take care of yourself. […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. To Thyrza. Джордж Гордон Байрон. К Тирзе
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) To Thyrza Without a stone to mark the spot, And say, what Truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot, Ah! wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea Divided, yet […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. An Ode to the Framers of the Frame Bill. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Ода авторам билля, направленного против разрушителей станков
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) An Ode to the Framers of the Frame Bill 1. Oh well done Lord E——n! and better done R——r! Britannia must prosper with councils like yours; Hawkesbury, Harrowby, help you to guide her, Whose remedy only must kill ere it cures: […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Lara. Canto the Second. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Лара. Песнь вторая
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Lara. Canto the Second I. Night wanes — the vapours round the mountains curl’d, Melt into morn, and Light awakes the world. Man has another day to swell the past, And lead him near to little, but his last; But mighty […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Lara. Canto the First. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Лара. Песнь первая
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Lara. Canto the First I. The Serfs are glad through Lara’s wide domain, And slavery half forgets her feudal chain; He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord — The long self-exiled chieftain is restored: There be bright faces in the busy hall, […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Condolatory Address to Sarah, Countess of Jersey, on the Prince Regent’s Returning Her Picture to Mrs. Mee. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Сочувственное послание Сарре, графине Джерсей, по поводу того, что принц-регент возвратил её портрет м-с Ми
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Condolatory Address to Sarah, Countess of Jersey, on the Prince Regent’s Returning Her Picture to Mrs. Mee When the vain triumph of the imperial lord, Whom servile Rome obey’d, and yet abhorr’d, Gave to the vulgar gaze each glorious bust, That left […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Ode (From the French). Джордж Гордон Байрон. Ода с французского
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Ode (From the French) I. We do not curse thee, Waterloo! Though Freedom’s blood thy plain bedew; There ’twas shed, but is not sunk Rising from each gory trunk, Like the water-spout from ocean, With a strong and growing motion It […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Sonnet on Chillon. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Шильонский узник (Сонет к Шильону)
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Sonnet on Chillon ETERNAL Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart— The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consign’d— To fetters, and […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. To Penelope. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Пенелопе
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) To Penelope This day, of all our days, has done The worst for me and you:— ‘T is just six years since we were one, And five since we were two. Перевод на русский язык Пенелопе Несчастней дня, скажу по чести, […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. The Irish Avatar. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Ирландская аватара
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) The Irish Avatar “And Ireland, like a bastinadoed elephant, kneeling to receive the paltry rider.” — [Life of Curran, ii. 336.] 1. Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her grave, And her ashes still float […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. To M–. Джордж Гордон Байрон. О! если бы — вместо всех молний очей
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) To M– Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire, With bright, but mild affection shine: Though they might kindle less desire, Love, more than mortal, would be thine. For thou art form’d so heavenly fair, Howe’er those orbs may wildly beam, […]
English Poetry. William Allingham. After Sunset. Вильям Аллингам. После заката
William Allingham (Вильям Аллингам) After Sunset The vast and solemn company of clouds Around the Sun’s death, lit, incarnadined, Cool into ashy wan; as Night enshrouds The level pasture, creeping up behind Through voiceless vales, o’er lawn and purpled hill And hazéd mead, her mystery to fulfil. Cows […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. There Was a Time, I Need not Name. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) * * * There was a time, I need not name, Since it will ne’er forgotten be, When all our feelings were the same As still my soul hath been to thee. And from that hour when first thy tongue Confess’d […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Lines on Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Lines on Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet Huzza! Hodgson, we are going, Our embargo’s off at last; Favourable breezes blowing Bend the canvass o’er the mast. From aloft the signal’s streaming, Hark! the farewell gun is fir’d; Women screeching, […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Adieu, Adieu! My Native Shore. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) * * * Adieu, adieu! my native shore Fades o’ver the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Love’s Last Adieu. Джордж Гордон Байрон.
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) Love’s Last Adieu The roses of love glad the garden of life, Though nurtured ‘mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, Or prunes them for ever, in love’s last adieu! In vain, with endearments, we […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. Remember Thee! Remember Thee!. Джордж Гордон Байрон. Забыть тебя! Забыть тебя!
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) * * * Remember thee! remember thee! Till Lethe quench life’s burning stream Remorse and shame shall cling to thee, And haunt thee like a feverish dream! Remember thee! Aye, doubt it not. Thy husband too shall think of thee: By […]
English Poetry. Edwin Arnold. The Rhine and The Moselle. Эдвин Арнольд.
Edwin Arnold (Эдвин Арнольд) The Rhine and The Moselle As the glory of the sun, When the dismal night is done, Leaps upward in the summer-blue to shine, So gloriously flows From his cradle in the snows The king of all the river floods—the Rhine. As a […]
English Poetry. Edwin Arnold. The Light of Asia: Book the Third. Эдвин Арнольд.
Edwin Arnold (Эдвин Арнольд) The Light of Asia: Book the Third In which calm home of happy life and love Ligged our Lord Buddha, knowing not of woe, Nor want, nor pain, nor plague, nor age, nor death, Save as when sleepers roam dim seas in dreams, And […]
English Poetry. Edwin Arnold. The Falcon-Feast. Эдвин Арнольд.
Edwin Arnold (Эдвин Арнольд) The Falcon-Feast Well and wisely spake the master Of the silver Tuscan talk, Love should laugh at all disaster If with wisdom he would walk. And to you the word is spoken, Ladies, therefore, ponder well; That by every certain token Your true lovers […]
English Poetry. Edwin Arnold. The Division of Poland. Эдвин Арнольд.
Edwin Arnold (Эдвин Арнольд) The Division of Poland Upon Earth’s lap there lay a pleasant land, With mountain, wood, and river beautified, And city-dotted. For the pleasant land The icy North and burning South did battle Whose it should be; and so it lay between them Unclaimed, unownered, […]
English Poetry. Edwin Arnold. The Marriage. Эдвин Арнольд.
Edwin Arnold (Эдвин Арнольд) The Marriage The robing is done, The bells have begun. And the bride is as bright is as a rising sun. And her cheeks that gleam, And her smiles that beam, Laugh at her tear-drops too light to stream. The bridegroom gay Goeth […]
English Poetry. William Allingham. The Little Dell. Вильям Аллингам.
William Allingham (Вильям Аллингам) The Little Dell Doleful was the land, Dull on, every side, Neither soft n’or grand, Barren, bleak, and wide; Nothing look’d with love; All was dingy brown; The very skies above Seem’d to sulk and frown. Plodding sick and sad, Weary day on […]
English Poetry. Edwin Arnold. A Song. Эдвин Арнольд.
Edwin Arnold (Эдвин Арнольд) A Song Once — and only once — you gave One rich gift, which Memory Shuts within itself, to save Sweet and fresh, while life may be: Shuts it like a rose-leaf treasured In the pages of a book, Which we open, when heart-leisured, […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. Palladium. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) Palladium Set where the upper streams of Simois flow Was the Palladium, high ‘mid rock and wood; And Hector was in Ilium, far below, And fought, and saw it not—but there it stood! It stood, and sun and moonshine rain’d their light On […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. Requiescat. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) Requiescat Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too! Her mirth the world required; She bathed it in smiles of glee. But her heart was tired, tired, And now they […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. Isolation: To Marguerite. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) Isolation: To Marguerite We were apart; yet, day by day, I bade my heart more constant be. I bade it keep the world away, And grow a home for only thee; Nor fear’d but thy love likewise grew, Like mine, each day, more tried, […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. The Forsaken Merman. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) The Forsaken Merman Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below! Now my brothers call from the bay, Now the great winds shoreward blow, Now the salt tides seaward flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. Self-Dependence. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) Self-Dependence Weary of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel’s prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o’er the starlit sea. And a look of passionate desire O’er the sea and to […]
English Poetry. Matthew Arnold. The Buried Life. Мэтью Арнольд.
Matthew Arnold (Мэтью Арнольд) The Buried Life Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless sadness o’er me roll. Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, We know, we know that we can smile! But […]
English Poetry. John Armstrong. Taste: An Epistle to a Young Critic. Джон Армстронг.
John Armstrong (Джон Армстронг) Taste: An Epistle to a Young Critic Range from Tower–hill all London to the Fleet, Thence round the Temple, t’utmost Grosvenor–street: Take in your route both Gray’s and Lincoln’s Inn; Miss not, be sure, my Lords and Gentlemen; You’ll hardly raise, as I with […]