Избранная лирика

               Life with yon Lambs, like day, is just begun,
               Yet Nature seems to them a heavenly guide.
               Does joy approach? they meet the coming tide;
               And sullenness avoid, as now they shun
               Pale twilight's lingering glooms, — and in the sun
               Couch near their dams, with quiet satisfied;
               Or gambol-each with his shadow at his side,
               Varying its shape wherever he may run.
               As they from turf yet hoar with sleepy dew
               All turn, and court the shining and the green,
               Where herbs look up, and opening flowers are seen;
               Why to God's goodness cannot We be true,
               And so, His gifts and promises between,
               Feed to the last on pleasures ever new?

СОЧИНЕНО МАЙСКИМ УТРОМ, 1838 [110]

                     Лишь начинают жить ягнята эти.
                     Пока природа восхищает их.
                     Ягнята ждут лишь радостей земных,
                     Их сторонится грусть, а сами дети
                     Бегут от темных кущ, лежат при свете
                     Златого солнца возле мам своих
                     Иль скачут вместе с тенью за двоих,
                     Меняя ее форму в пируэте.
                     А как летят по травам, где чисты
                     Висят росинки, где цветы в тумане!
                     Как по зеленой носятся поляне!
                     Что ж нам-то мало Божьей доброты?
                     Что ж средь его даров и обещаний
                     Все новой ищем сладкой суеты?

From "POEMS" (1845) Из сборника "СТИХОТВОРЕНИЯ" (1845)

THE SIMPLON PASS

                            —Brook and road
                Were fellow-travellers in this gloomy Pass,
                And with them did we journey several hours
                At a slow step. The immeasurable height
                Of woods decaying, never to be decayed,
                The stationary blasts of waterfalls,
                And in the narrow rent, at every turn,
                Winds thwarting winds bewildered and forlorn,
                The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky,
                The rocks that muttered close upon our ears,
                Black drizzling crags that spake by the wayside
                As if a voice were in them, the sick sight
                And giddy prospect of the raving stream,
                The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens,
                Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light —
                Were all like workings of one mind, the features
                Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree,
                Characters of the great Apocalypse,
                The types and symbols of Eternity,
                Of first, and last, and midst, and without end.

СИМПЛОНСКИЙ ПЕРЕВАЛ [111]