.
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу - страница 12
Not like the Rose of Sharon,
That mystic red rose, exalted by prophets—
Thou art like the "Rose, of the Bremen Town-Cellar,"
Which is the Rose of Roses;
The older it grows the sweeter it blossoms,
And its breath divine it hath all entranced me,
It hath inspired and kindled my soul;
And had not the Town-Cellar Master gripped me
With firm grip and steady,
I should have stumbled!
That excellent man! We sat together
And drank like brothers;
We spoke of wonderful mystic things,
We sighed and sank in each other's arms,
And me to the faith of love he converted;
I drank to the health of my bitterest foes,
And I forgave all bad poets sincerely,
Even as I may one day be forgiven;
I wept with devotion, and at length
The doors of salvation were opened unto me,
Where the sacred Vats, the twelve Apostles,
Silently preach, yet oh, so plainly,
Unto all nations.
These be men forsooth!
Of humble exterior, in jackets of wood,
Yet within they are fairer and more enlightened
Than all the Temple's proud Levites,
Or the courtiers and followers of Herod,
Though decked out in gold and in purple;
Have I not constantly said:
Not with the herd of common low people,
But in the best and politest of circles
The King of Heaven was sure to dwell!
Hallelujah! How lovely the whisper
Of Bethel's palm-trees!
How fragrant the myrtle-trees of Hebron!
How sings the Jordan and reels with joy!
My immortal spirit likewise is reeling,
And I reel in company, and, joyously reeling,
Leads me upstairs and into the daylight
That excellent Town-Cellar Master of Bremen.
Thou excellent Town-Cellar Master of Bremen!
Dost see on the housetops the little angels
Sitting aloft, all tipsy and singing?
The burning sun up yonder
Is but a fiery and drunken nose—
The Universe Spirit's red nose;
And round the Universe Spirit's red nose
Reels the whole drunken world.
A NEW SPRING (1831)
Soft and gently through my soul
Sweetest bells are ringing,
Speed you forth, my little song,
Of springtime blithely singing!
Speed you onward to a house
Where sweet flowers are fleeting!
If, perchance, a rose you see,
Say, I send her greeting!
Thy deep blue eyes enchant me,
So lovingly they glow;
My gazing soul grows dreamy,
My words come strange and slow.
Thy deep blue eyes enchant me
Wherever I may go:
An ocean of azure fancies
O'erwhelms me with its flow.
Was once an ancient monarch,
Heavy his heart, his locks were gray,
This poor and aged monarch
Took a wife so young and gay.
Was once a page-boy handsome,
With lightsome heart and curly hair,
The silken train he carried
Of the queen so young and fair.
Dost know the old, old story?
It sounds so sweet, so sad to tell—
Both were obliged to perish,
They loved each other too well.
ABROAD42 (1834)
Oh I had once a beauteous Fatherland!
High used to seem
The oak—so high!—the violets nodded kind—
It was a dream.
In German I was kissed, in German told
(You scarce would deem
How sweetly rang the words): "I love thee well!—"
It was a dream.
THE SPHINX43 (1839)
It is the fairy forest old,
With lime-tree blossoms scented!
The moonshine with its mystic light
My soul and sense enchanted.
On, on I roamed, and, as I went,
Sweet music o'er me rose there;
It is the nightingale—she sings
Of love and lovers' woes there.
She sings of love and lovers' woes,
Hearts blest, and hearts forsaken:
So sad is her mirth, so glad her sob,
Dreams long forgot awaken.
Still on I roamed, and, as I went,
I saw before me lowering
On a great wide lawn a stately pile,
With gables peaked and towering.
Closed were its windows, everywhere
A hush, a gloom, past telling;
It seemed as though silent Death within
These empty halls were dwelling.
A СКАЧАТЬ
Translator: Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.
Translator: Kate Freiligrath-Kroeker. Permission The Walter Scott Publishing Co., Ltd., London.
Translator: Charles Wharton Stork.
Translator: Margaret Armour. Permission William Heinemann, London.
Translator: Sir Theodore Martin. Permission William Blackwood & Sons, London.