Записи с темой: 19 (список заголовков)
06:21 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
George Gordon Byron
Darkness

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.
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@темы: english-british, b, 19

06:03 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Butler Yeats
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
36. Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

@темы: y, yeats, w. b., english-british, e'ireann, celtic themes, 19

06:02 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Butler Yeats
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
35. Aedh wishes his Beloved were dead

Were you but lying cold and dead,
And lights were paling out of the West,
You would come hither, and bend your head,
And I would lay my head on your breast;
And you would murmur tender words,
Forgiving me, because you were dead:
Nor would you rise and hasten away,
Though you have the will of the wild birds,
But know your hair was bound and wound
About the stars and moon and sun:
O would beloved that you lay
Under the dock-leaves in the ground,
While lights were paling one by one.

@темы: y, english-british, e'ireann, celtic themes, yeats, w. b., 19

07:07 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Butler Yeats
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
30. Hanrahan laments because of his Wanderings

O where is our Mother of Peace
Nodding her purple hood?
For the winds that awakened the stars
Are blowing through my blood.
I would that the death-pale deer
Had come through the mountain side,
And trampled the mountain away,
And drunk up the murmuring tide;
For the winds that awakened the stars
Are blowing through my blood,
And our Mother of Peace has forgot me
Under her purple hood.

@темы: yeats, w. b., y, english-british, e'ireann, celtic themes, 19

06:49 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Butler Yeats
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
9. The Song of Wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

@темы: yeats, w. b., y, english-british, e'ireann, celtic themes, 19

06:14 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Butler Yeats
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
6. Breasal* the Fisherman

Although you hide in the ebb and flow
Of the pale tide when the moon has set,
The people of coming days will know
About the casting out of my net,
And how you have leaped times out of mind
Over the little silver cords,
And think that you were hard and unkind,
And blame you with many bitter words.

* Breasal the Fisherman - Yeats seems to have employed the name "Breasal" as a generic term for the genus "fisherman". In the 1903 North American Review version of his play The Hour Glass, the Fool tells the wise man: "Bresal the Fisherman lets me sleep among the nets in his loft in the winter-time because he says I bring him luck... (VPI, 584). But his poem may be inspired by Echtra Bhresail or "Bresal's adventure" recorded in The Book of Leinster and referred to in O'Grady's Silva Gadelica. "On adventure bent, "Bresal "dived down into Loch Laoigh, under which he abode for fifty years."
Wherever Yeats found the name, Breasal is a man on a quest and the object of the quest is a mysterious fish. Grossman makes much of the fact that Yeats later shifted the emphasis of the poem from the persona to the object by retitling it "The Fish", thus calling attention to the fish as the alchemical symbol for "the prima materia, the lapis philosophorum, the ultimate identuty of the self..." Th fish is also a Celtic symbol of perpetuity or reincarnation as recorded in "The Wisdom of the King" (SR, 21; VSR, 31), a symbols for Christianity.
(c)

@темы: ...logy, 19, celtic themes, e'ireann, links, y, yeats, w. b.

06:14 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Butler Yeats
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
5. The Host of the Air

O’driscoll drove with a song,
The wild duck and the drake,
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.

And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.

He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.

And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.

The dancers crowded about him,
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.

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@темы: 19, yeats, w. b., y, english-british, e'ireann, celtic themes

07:21 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
William Butler Yeats
The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899
2. The Everlasting Voices

O sweet everlasting Voices be still;
Go to the guards of the heavenly fold
And bid them wander obeying your will
Flame under flame, till Time be no more;
Have you not heard that our hearts are old,
That you call in birds, in wind on the hill,
In shaken boughs, in tide on the shore?
O sweet everlasting Voices be still.

@темы: 19, celtic themes, e'ireann, english-british, y, yeats, w. b.

08:00 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Ernest Dowson
Non sum qualis eram bonae sub regno Cynarae*
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.

*Non sum qualis eram bonae
sub regno Cinarae.
Horace's Odes, Book 4, 1. ("I am not as I was in the reign of good Cinara.")

@темы: h, english-british, d, antiquity, 19

06:05 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Paul Laurence Dunbar
By the Stream

By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass,
How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens
pass,
And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,
Like a host of armored knights with silver helmets on their heads.
And I deem the stream an emblem fit of human life may go,
For I find a mind may sparkle much and yet but shallows show,
And a soul may glow with myriad lights and wondrous mysteries,
When it only lies a dormant thing and mirrors what it sees.

@темы: 19, d, english-american

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

08:51 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Song

Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest;
Home-keeping hearts are happiest,
For those that wander they know not where
Are full of trouble and full of care;
To stay at home is best.

Weary and homesick and distressed,
They wander east, they wander west,
And are baffled and beaten and blown about
By the winds of the wilderness of doubt;
To stay at home is best.

Then stay at home, my heart, and rest;
The bird is safest in its nest;
O’er all that flutter their wings and fly
A hawk is hovering in the sky;
To stay at home is best.

@темы: 19, english-american, l

06:14 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Inazo Nitobe
Into a old pond
A frog took a sudden plunge,
Then is heard a splash.

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

@темы: b, 20, 19, 17, n, japanese, english-other, eastern

07:34 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Paul Laurence Dunbar
Christmas in the Heart

The snow lies deep upon the ground,
And winter’s brightness all around
Decks bravely out the forest sere,
With jewels of the brave old year.
The coasting crowd upon the hill
With some new spirit seems to thrill;
And all the temple bells achime.
Ring out the glee of Christmas time.

In happy homes the brown oak-bough
Vies with the red-gemmed holly now;
And here and there, like pearls, there show
The berries of the mistletoe.
A sprig upon the chandelier
Says to the maidens, “Come not here!”
Even the pauper of the earth
Some kindly gift has cheered to mirth!

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@темы: english-american, d, 20, 19

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

07:24 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Herman Melville
The Rusty Man

(By a timid one)
In La Mancha he mopeth
With beard thin and dusty;
He doteth and mopeth
In library fusty —

'Mong his old folios gropeth:
Cites obsolete saws
Of chivalry's laws —
Be the wronged one's knight:
Die, but do right.

So he rusts and musts,
While each grocer green
Thriveth apace with the fulsome face
Of a fool serene.

@темы: m, english-american, 19

09:52 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Herman Melville
The Maldive Shark

About the Shark, phlegmatical one,
Pale sot of the Maldive sea,
The sleek little pilot-fish, azure and slim,
How alert in attendance be.
From his saw-pit of mouth, from his charnel of maw
They have nothing of harm to dread,
But liquidly glide on his ghastly flank
Or before his Gorgonian head;
Or lurk in the port of serrated teeth
In white triple tiers of glittering gates,
And there find a haven when peril’s abroad,
An asylum in jaws of the Fates!
They are friends; and friendly they guide him to prey,
Yet never partake of the treat—
Eyes and brains to the dotard lethargic and dull,
Pale ravener of horrible meat.

@темы: 19, m, english-american

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

06:24 

Lika_k
Искусствоед
Robert Browning
Epilogue

At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,
When you set your fancies free,
Will they pass to where—by death, fools think, imprisoned—
Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so,
—Pity me?

Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken!
What had I on earth to do
With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly?
Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel
—Being—who?

One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake.

No, at noonday in the bustle of man’s work-time
Greet the unseen with a cheer!
Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be,
“Strive and thrive!” cry “Speed,—fight on, fare ever
There as here!”

@темы: english-british, b, 19, victorian

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