Записи с темой: english-british (список заголовков)
08:16 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Experience
The Tyger

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies,
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Britten

@темы: music, youtube, blake, William, 18, 20, b, english-british

07:51 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Experience
The Angel

I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne’er beguiled!

And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart’s delight.

So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.

@темы: english-british, blake, William, b, 18

06:29 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Experience
The Fly

Little Fly
Thy summer's play,
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink & sing;
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength & breath;
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.

@темы: 18, b, blake, William, english-british

07:56 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Experience
Nurse's Song

When the voices of children are heard on the green,
And whisperings are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.

Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down,
And the dews of night arise;
Your spring and your day are wasted in play,
And your winter and night in disguise.

@темы: english-british, blake, William, b, 18

07:44 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Experience
The Chimney Sweeper

A little black thing among the snow,
Crying "'weep! 'weep!" in notes of woe!
"Where are thy father and mother? Say!"--
"They are both gone up to the church to pray.

Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smiled among the winter's snow,
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.

And because I am happy and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his priest and king,
Who make up a heaven of our misery.

@темы: english-british, blake, William, b, 18

14:27 

Lika_k
Искусствоед


The oldest poem in English: Cædmon's Hymn (c. 670 AD) transcribed in West Saxon dialect in Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English People. With Modern English subtitles.

@темы: 7, c, english-british, links, middle centuries, youtube, english

06:10 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Experience
The Little Girl Lost

In futurity
I prophetic see
That the earth from sleep
(Grave the sentence deep)

Shall arise, and seek
For her Maker meek;
And the desert wild
Become a garden mild.

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The Little Girl Found
All the night in woe
Lyca’s parents go
Over valleys deep,
While the deserts weep.

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Rising from unrest,
The trembling woman pressed
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.

In his arms he bore
Her, armed with sorrow sore;
Till before their way
A couching lion lay.

Turning back was vain:
Soon his heavy mane
Bore them to the ground,
Then he stalked around,

Smelling to his prey;
But their fears allay
When he licks their hands,
And silent by them stands.

They look upon his eyes,
Filled with deep surprise;
And wondering behold
A spirit armed in gold.

On his head a crown,
On his shoulders down
Flowed his golden hair.
Gone was all their care.

‘Follow me,’ he said;
‘Weep not for the maid;
In my palace deep,
Lyca lies asleep.’

Then they followed
Where the vision led,
And saw their sleeping child
Among tigers wild.

To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell,
Nor fear the wolvish howl
Nor the lion’s growl.

@темы: 18, b, blake, William, english-british

06:32 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Innocence
A Dream

Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my Angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, ’wilder’d, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangled spray,
All heart-broke I heard her say:

‘O, my children! do they cry?
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see:
Now return and weep for me.’

Pitying, I dropp’d a tear;
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied: ‘What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?

‘I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home.’

@темы: english-british, blake, William, b, 18

08:42 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Blake
Songs of Innocence & of experience
Songs of Innocence
The Chimney Sweeper

When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet, & that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark
And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

@темы: 18, b, blake, William, english-british

06:44 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Andrew Marvell
The Definition of Love

My Love is of a birth as rare
As ’tis for object strange and high:
It was begotten by despair
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble Hope could ne’r have flown
But vainly flapt its Tinsel Wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended Soul is fixt,
But Fate does Iron wedges drive,
And alwaies crowds it self betwixt.

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@темы: 17, english-british, m, metaphysical poets

08:00 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Christina Rossetti
Echo

Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago!

@темы: victorian, r, 19, pre-raphaelite brotherhood, english-british

06:40 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Helen Dunmore
My life’s stem was cut

My life’s stem was cut,
But quickly, lovingly
I was lifted up,
I heard the rush of the tap
And I was set in water
In the blue vase, beautiful
In lip and curve,
And here I am
Opening one petal
As the tea cools.
I wait while the sun moves
And the bees finish their dancing,
I know I am dying
But why not keep flowering
As long as I can
From my cut stem?

(from "Inside the Wave" by Helen Dunmore, published by Bloodaxe Books, 2017)

@темы: 21, d, english-british

08:28 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Seamus Heaney
Scaffolding

Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;

Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.

And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.

So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me

Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall.

@темы: 20, e'ireann, english-british, h, heaney, seamus

08:00 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Scott Alexander
By an ancient pond
a bullfrog on a rock
waiting for Basho?

(from "One Hundred Frogs" by Hiroaki Sato, 1995)

@темы: japanese, ga'idhlig, english-british, eastern, b, a, 20, 17

08:12 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Palladas of Alexandria (c. 400 AD)
Life

This life's a stage, a jest. Then learn to play:
endure your pain and cast all cares away!

from "Sweet-voiced Sappho. Poems of Sappho and other Ancient Greek Authors translated into English Verse by Theodore Stephanides", 2015)

William Shakespeare
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

(from "As You Like It", spoken by Jaques)

@темы: 5, theodore stephanides, shakespeare, s, renaissance english, p, helenike, english-british, antiquity, 16

07:35 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Lord Dunsany
On Fame

If I live to be very old
They will know me then for a poet.
When my blood is sombre and cold,
If I live to be very old,
They will shout, 'We know it. We know it.'
And I will be vexed by the riot,
And turn from my sloppy diet
To pray for a little quiet.

@темы: english-british, d

07:22 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Anna Seward
Sonnet 92

Behold that Tree, in Autumn’s dim decay,
Stript by the frequent, chill, and eddying Wind;
Where yet some yellow, lonely leaves we find
Lingering and trembling on the naked spray,
Twenty, perchance, for millions whirl’d away!
Emblem, alas! too just, of Humankind!
Vain Man expects longevity, design’d
For few indeed; and their protracted day
What is it worth that Wisdom does not scorn?
The blasts of Sickness, Care, and Grief appal,
That laid the Friends in dust, whose natal morn
Rose near their own;—and solemn is the call;—
Yet, like those weak, deserted leaves forlorn,
Shivering they cling to life, and fear to fall!

@темы: s, 18, english-british

08:39 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Richard Watson Dixon
The Silent Heavens

Here I wander about, and here I mournfully ponder:
Weary to me is the sun, weary the coming of night:
Here is captivity still, there would be captivity yonder:
Like to myself are the rest, smitten is all with a blight.

Much I complain of my state to my own heart heavily beating:
Much to the stars I complain: much to the universe cold;
The stars that of old were fixed, in spheres their courses repeating;
Solidly once were they fixed, and with them their spheres were rolled.

Then through the space of the spheres to the steadfast empyrean
Echo on echo to Earth answered her manifold cries:
Earth was the centre of things, and the threne of all, or the paean,
Bearing hell in her heart, on her bosom all life that dies.

If they were fixed, as of old, in their firmament solid and vaulted,
Then might the echo of woe or of laughter reverberate thence:
Nor my voice alone, but to them all voices exalted,
Should with due answer be met, murmuring sweet to the sense.

But they roll on their way through the void, the inane unretentive:
Past them all voices stream into the echoless space.
Where is the pitying grace, that once was prayer’s incentive,
Where is the ear that heard, and the face that once answered to face?

@темы: english-british, d, 19

10:24 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Fragment: Questions

Is it that in some brighter sphere
We part from friends we meet with here?
Or do we see the Future pass
Over the Present’s dusky glass?
Or what is that that makes us seem
To patch up fragments of a dream,
Part of which comes true, and part
Beats and trembles in the heart?

@темы: s, english-british, 19

08:45 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Emily Brontë
Fall Leaves Fall

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me,
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night’s decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

@темы: 19, b, english-british

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