The Maid of Orleans. Friedrich von Schiller

Чтение книги онлайн.

         Ay! now is realized an ancient word

         Of prophesy, once uttered by a nun

         Of Clairmont, in prophetic mood, who said,

         That through a woman's aid I o'er my foes

         Should triumph, and achieve my father's crown.

         Far off I sought her in the English camp;

         I strove to reconcile a mother's heart;

         Here stands the heroine – my guide to Rheims!

         My Agnes! I shall triumph through thy love!

         Thou'lt triumph through the valiant swords of friends.

         And from my foes' dissensions much I hope

         For sure intelligence hath reached mine ear,

         That 'twixt these English lords and Burgundy

         Things do not stand precisely as they did;

         Hence to the duke I have despatched La Hire,

         To try if he can lead my angry vassal

         Back to his ancient loyalty and faith:

         Each moment now I look for his return.

         A knight e'en now dismounteth in the court.

         A welcome messenger! We soon shall learn

         Whether we're doomed to conquer or to yield.

         Hope bringest thou, or not? Be brief, La Hire,

         Out with thy tidings! What must we expect?

         Expect naught, sire, save from thine own good sword.

         The haughty duke will not be reconciled!

         Speak! How did he receive my embassy?

         His first and unconditional demand,

         Ere he consent to listen to thine errand,

         Is that Duchatel be delivered up,

         Whom he doth name the murderer of his sire.

         This base condition we reject with scorn!

         Then be the league dissolved ere it commence!

         Hast thou thereon, as I commanded thee,

         Challenged the duke to meet him in fair fight

         On Montereau's bridge, whereon his father fell?

         Before him on the ground I flung thy glove,

         And said: "Thou wouldst forget thy majesty,

         And like a knight do battle for thy realm."

         He scornfully rejoined "He needed not

         To fight for that which he possessed already,

         But if thou wert so eager for the fray,

         Before the walls of Orleans thou wouldst find him,

         Whither he purposed going on the morrow;"

         Thereon he laughing turned his back upon me.

         Say, did not justice raise her sacred voice,

         Within the precincts of my parliament?

         The rage of party, sire, hath silenced her.

         An edict of the parliament declares

         Thee and thy race excluded from the throne.

         These upstart burghers' haughty insolence!

         Hast thou attempted with my mother aught?

         With her?

               Ay! How did she demean herself?

         I chanced to step within St. Denis' walls

         Precisely at the royal coronation.

         The crowds were dressed as for a festival;

         Triumphal arches rose in every street

         Through which the English monarch was to pass.

         The way was strewed with flowers, and with huzzas,

         As France some brilliant conquest had achieved,

         The people thronged around the royal car.

         They could huzza – huzza, while trampling thus

         Upon a gracious sovereign's loving heart!

         I saw young Harry Lancaster – the boy —

         On good St. Lewis' regal chair enthroned;

         On either side his haughty uncles stood,

         Bedford and Gloucester, and before him kneeled,

         To render homage for his lands, Duke Philip.

         Oh, peer dishonored! Oh, unworthy cousin!

         The child was timid, and his footing lost

         As up the steps he mounted towards the throne.

         An evil omen! murmured forth the crowd,

         And scornful laughter burst on every side.

         Then forward stepped Queen Isabel – thy mother,

         And – but it angers me to utter it!

                           СКАЧАТЬ