From "LYRICAL BALLADS, AND OTHER POEMS" Из "ЛИРИЧЕСКИХ БАЛЛАД И ДРУГИХ СТИХОТВОРЕНИЙ" THERE WAS A BOY There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs And islands of Winander! — many a time, At evening, when the earliest stars began To move along the edges of the hills, Rising or setting, would he stand alone, Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake; And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth Uplifted, he, as through an instrument, Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him. - And they would shout Across the watery vale, and shout again, Responsive to his call, — with quivering peals; And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild Of jocund din! And, when there came a pause Of silence such as baffled his best skill: Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain-torrents; or the visible scene Would enter unawares into his mind With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received Into the bosom of the steady lake. This boy was taken from his mates, and died In childhood, ere he was full twelve years old. Pre-eminent in beauty is the vale Where he was born and bred: the church-yard hangs Upon a slope above the village-school; And, through that church-yard when my way has led On summer-evenings, I believe, that there A long half-hour together I have stood Mute-looking at the grave in which he lies! МАЛЬЧИК[36] Был мальчик. Вам знаком он был, утесы И острова Винандра! Сколько раз, По вечерам, лишь только над верхами Холмов зажгутся искры ранних звезд В лазури темной, он стоял, бывало, В тени дерев, над озером блестящим. И там, скрестивши пальцы и ладонь Сведя с ладонью наподобье трубки, Он подносил ее к губам и криком Тревожил мир в лесу дремучих сов. И на призыв его, со всех сторон, Над водною равниной раздавался Их дикий крик, пронзительный и резкий. И звонкий свист, и хохот, и в горах Гул перекатный эха — чудных звуков Волшебный хор! Когда же, вслед за тем, Вдруг наступала тишина, он часто В безмолвии природы, на скалах, Сам ощущал невольный в сердце трепет, Заслышав где-то далеко журчанье Ключей нагорных. Дивная картина Тогда в восторг в нем душу приводила Своей торжественной красой, своими Утесами, лесами, теплым небом, В пучине вод неясно отраженным. Его ж уж нет! Бедняжка умер рано, Лет девяти он сверстников оставил. О, как прекрасна тихая долина, Где он родился! Вся плющом увита, Висит со скал над сельской школой церковь. И если мне случится в летний вечер Идти через кладбище, я готов Там целый час стоять с глубокой думой Над тихою могилой, где он спит. LUCY
Strange fits of passion have I known: And I will dare to tell, But in the Lover's ear alone, What once to me befell. When she I loved looked every day Fresh as a rose in June, I to her cottage bent my way, Beneath an evening-moon. Upon the moon I fixed my eye, All over the wide lea; With quickening pace my horse drew nigh Those paths so clear to me. And now we reached the orchard-plot; And, as we climbed the hill, The sinking moon to Lucy's cot Came near, and nearer still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, Kind Nature's gentlest boon! And all the while my eyes I kept On the descending moon. My horse moved on; hoof after hoof He raised, and never stopped: When down behind the cottage roof, At once, the bright moon dropped. What fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a Lover's head! "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!" She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me! I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee. Tis past, that melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy of my desire; And she I cherished turned her wheel Beside an English fire. Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed The bowers where Lucy played; And thine too is the last green field That Lucy's eyes surveyed. A slumber did my spirit seal; I had no human fears: She seemed a thing that could not feel The touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force; She neither hears nor sees; Rolled round in earth's diurnal course, With rocks, and stones, and trees. |
