История зарубежной литературы XIX века. Романтизм: учебное пособие

Душа моя мрачна. Скорей, певец, скорей!
Вот арфа золотая:
Пускай персты твои, промчавшися по ней,
Пробудят в струнах звуки рая.
И если не навек надежды рок унес, —
Они в груди моей проснутся,
И если есть в очах застывших капля слез —
Они растают и прольются.
Пусть будет песнь твоя дика. Как мой венец.
Мне тягостны веселья звуки!
Я говорю тебе: я слез хочу, певец,
Иль разорвется грудь от муки.
Страданьями была упитана она,
Томилась долго и безмолвно;
И грозный час настал – теперь она полна,
Как кубок смерти, яда полный.

JOURNAL IN CEPHALONIA

The dead have been awakened – shall I sleep?
The World's at war with tyrants – shall I crouch?
The harvest's ripe – and shall I pause to reap?
I slumber not; the thorn is in my Couch;
Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear,
Its echo in my heart…

ИЗ ДНЕВНИКА В КЕФАЛОНИИ

Встревожен мертвых сон, – могу ли спать?
Тираны давят мир, – я ль уступлю?
Созрела жатва, – мне ли медлить жать?
На ложе – колкий терн; я не дремлю;
В моих ушах, что день, поет труба,
Ей вторит сердце…

VISION OF BELSHAZZAR

The King was on his throne,
The Satraps throng'd the hall:
A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival
A thousand cups of gold,
In Judah deem'd divine —
Jehovah's vessels hold
The godless Heathen's wine!

II

In that same hour and hall,
The fingers of a hand
Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand:
The fingers of a man; —
A solitary hand
Along the letters ran,
And traced them like a wand.

III

The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
All bloodless wax'd his look,
And tremulous his voice.
«Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth.»

IV

Chaldea's seers are good,
But here they have no skill;
And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still.
And Babel's men of age
Are wise and deep in lore;
But now they were not sage,
They saw – but knew no more.

V

A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
He heard the king's command,
He saw that writing's truth.
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
He read it on that night —
The morrow proved it true.

VI

«Belshazzar's grave is made,
His kingdom pass'd away,
He, in the balance weigh'd,
Is light and worthless clay;
The shroud his robe of state,
His canopy the stone;
The Mede is at his gate!
The Persian on his throne!"

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