Избранная лирика

SONG FOR THE WANDERING JEW

                     Though the torrents from their fountains
                     Roar down many a craggy steep,
                     Yet they find among the mountains
                     Resting-places calm and deep.

                     Clouds that love through air to hasten,

                     Ere the storm its fury stills,
                     Helmet-like themselves will fasten
                     On the heads of towering hills.

                     What, if through the frozen centre

                     Of the Alps the Chamois bound,
                     Yet he has a home to enter
                     In some nook of chosen ground:

                     And the Sea-horse, though the ocean

                     Yield him no domestic cave,
                     Slumbers without sense of motion,
                     Couched upon the rocking wave.

                     If on windy days the Raven

                     Gambol like a dancing skiff,
                     Not the less she loves her haven
                     In the bosom of the cliff.

                     The fleet Ostrich, till day closes.

                     Vagrant over desert sands,
                     Brooding on her eggs reposes
                     When chill night that care demands.

                     Day and night my toils redouble,

                     Never nearer to the goal;
                     Night and day, I feel the trouble
                     Of the Wanderer in my soul.

АГАСФЕР [44]

                         Многопенные потоки,
                         Пробежав скалистый путь,
                         Ниспадают в дол глубокий,
                         Чтоб умолкнуть и заснуть.

                         Стая туч, когда смирится

                         Гнев грозы и гул громов,
                         Шлемом сумрачным ложится
                         На зубчатый ряд холмов.

                         День и ночь косуля скачет

                         По скалам среди высот,
                         Но ее в ненастье прячет
                         От дождя укромный грот.

                         Зверь морской, что в океане

                         Крова мирного лишен,
                         Спит меж волн, но их качанья
                         Он не чувствует сквозь сон.

                         Пусть, как челн, грозой гонимый,

                         Пляшет ворон в бурной мгле, —
                         Рад он пристани родимой
                         На незыблемой скале.

                         Робкий страус до заката

                         По пескам стремит свой бег,
                         Но и он спешит куда-то
                         В сень родную — на ночлег…

                         Без конца моя дорога,

                         Цель все так же впереди,
                         И кочевника тревога
                         День и ночь в моей груди.

From "POEMS" (1807) Из сборника "СТИХОТВОРЕНИЯ" (1807)

POEMS DEDICATED TO NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE AND LIBERTY СТИХИ, ПОСВЯЩЕННЫЕ НАЦИОНАЛЬНОЙ НЕЗАВИСИМОСТИ И СВОБОДЕ

"I grieved for Buonapart_e_, with a vain"

                I grieved for Buonapart_e_, with a vain
                And an unthinking grief! The tenderest mood
                Of that Man's mind-what can it be? what food
                Fed his first hopes? what knowledge could _he_ gain?
                Т is not in battles that from youth we train
                The Governor who must be wise and good,
                And temper with the sternness of the brain
                Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.
                Wisdom doth live with children round her knees:
                Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk
                Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk
                Of the mind's business: these are the degrees
                By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk
                True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.

"С печалью смутной думал я не раз…" [45]