Don Quixote. Cervantes
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Название: Don Quixote

Автор: Cervantes

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Контркультура

Серия:

isbn: 9781974999460

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ compassionate eyes, was the abode of a soul on which Heaven bestowed a vast share of its riches. That is the body of Chrysostom, who was unrivalled in wit, unequalled in courtesy, unapproached in gentle bearing, a phoenix in friendship, generous without limit, grave without arrogance, gay without vulgarity, and, in short, first in all that constitutes goodness and second to none in all that makes up misfortune. He loved deeply, he was hated; he adored, he was scorned; he wooed a wild beast, he pleaded with marble, he pursued the wind, he cried to the wilderness, he served ingratitude, and for reward was made the prey of death in the mid-course of life, cut short by a shepherdess whom he sought to immortalise in the memory of man, as these papers which you see could fully prove, had he not commanded me to consign them to the fire after having consigned his body to the earth."

      "You would deal with them more harshly and cruelly than their owner himself," said Vivaldo, "for it is neither right nor proper to do the will of one who enjoins what is wholly unreasonable; it would not have been reasonable in Augustus Caesar had he permitted the directions left by the divine Mantuan in his will to be carried into effect. So that, Senor Ambrosia while you consign your friend's body to the earth, you should not consign his writings to oblivion, for if he gave the order in bitterness of heart, it is not right that you should irrationally obey it. On the contrary, by granting life to those papers, let the cruelty of Marcela live for ever, to serve as a warning in ages to come to all men to shun and avoid falling into like danger; or I and all of us who have come here know already the story of this your love-stricken and heart-broken friend, and we know, too, your friendship, and the cause of his death, and the directions he gave at the close of his life; from which sad story may be gathered how great was the cruelty of Marcela, the love of Chrysostom, and the loyalty of your friendship, together with the end awaiting those who pursue rashly the path that insane passion opens to their eyes. Last night we learned the death of Chrysostom and that he was to be buried here, and out of curiosity and pity we left our direct road and resolved to come and see with our eyes that which when heard of had so moved our compassion, and in consideration of that compassion and our desire to prove it if we might by condolence, we beg of you, excellent Ambrosia, or at least I on my own account entreat you, that instead of burning those papers you allow me to carry away some of them."

      And without waiting for the shepherd's answer, he stretched out his hand and took up some of those that were nearest to him; seeing which Ambrosio said, "Out of courtesy, senor, I will grant your request as to those you have taken, but it is idle to expect me to abstain from burning the remainder."

      Vivaldo, who was eager to see what the papers contained, opened one of them at once, and saw that its title was "Lay of Despair."

      Ambrosio hearing it said, "That is the last paper the unhappy man wrote; and that you may see, senor, to what an end his misfortunes brought him, read it so that you may be heard, for you will have time enough for that while we are waiting for the grave to be dug."

      "I will do so very willingly," said Vivaldo; and as all the bystanders were equally eager they gathered round him, and he, reading in a loud voice, found that it ran as follows.

      CHAPTER XIV.

       WHEREIN ARE INSERTED THE DESPAIRING VERSES OF THE DEAD SHEPHERD, TOGETHER WITH OTHER INCIDENTS NOT LOOKED FOR

       THE LAY OF CHRYSOSTOM

      Since thou dost in thy cruelty desire

      The ruthless rigour of thy tyranny

      From tongue to tongue, from land to land proclaimed,

      The very Hell will I constrain to lend

      This stricken breast of mine deep notes of woe

      To serve my need of fitting utterance.

      And as I strive to body forth the tale

      Of all I suffer, all that thou hast done,

      Forth shall the dread voice roll, and bear along

      Shreds from my vitals torn for greater pain.

      Then listen, not to dulcet harmony,

      But to a discord wrung by mad despair

      Out of this bosom's depths of bitterness,

      To ease my heart and plant a sting in thine.

      The lion's roar, the fierce wolf's savage howl,

      The horrid hissing of the scaly snake,

      The awesome cries of monsters yet unnamed,

      The crow's ill-boding croak, the hollow moan

      Of wild winds wrestling with the restless sea,

      The wrathful bellow of the vanquished bull,

      The plaintive sobbing of the widowed dove,

      The envied owl's sad note, the wail of woe

      That rises from the dreary choir of Hell,

      Commingled in one sound, confusing sense,

      Let all these come to aid my soul's complaint,

      For pain like mine demands new modes of song.

      No echoes of that discord shall be heard

      Where Father Tagus rolls, or on the banks

      Of olive-bordered Betis; to the rocks

      Or in deep caverns shall my plaint be told,

      And by a lifeless tongue in living words;

      Or in dark valleys or on lonely shores,

      Where neither foot of man nor sunbeam falls;

      Or in among the poison-breathing swarms

      Of monsters nourished by the sluggish Nile.

      For, though it be to solitudes remote

      The hoarse vague echoes of my sorrows sound

      Thy matchless cruelty, my dismal fate

      Shall carry them to all the spacious world.

      Disdain hath power to kill, and patience dies

      Slain by suspicion, be it false or true;

      And deadly is the force of jealousy;

      Long absence makes of life a dreary void;

      No hope of happiness can give repose

      To him that ever fears to be forgot;

      And death, inevitable, waits in hall.

      But I, by some strange miracle, live on

      A prey to absence, jealousy, disdain;

      Racked by suspicion as by certainty;

      Forgotten, left to feed my flame alone.

      And while I suffer thus, there comes no ray

      Of hope to gladden me athwart the gloom;

      Nor do I look СКАЧАТЬ