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Lays and Legends (Second Series)
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(For your coward steel would stain his blood),
Here – take his father's knife!"
With that he flung the long knife down
From off the castle wall,
It glimmered and gleamed in the brave sunlight,
Full in the sight of all.
Sir Hugh passed down the turret stair,
We held our breath in awe …
May my tongue wither ere it tell
The damnèd work we saw!
When all was done, a shout went up
From that accursèd crew,
And from the chapel's silence dim
Came forth in haste Sir Hugh.
"And what may mean this clamour and din?"
"Sir Hugh, thy son is dead!"
"I deemed the foe had entered in,
But God is good!" he said.
We stood upon the topmost tower,
Full in the setting sun;
Shamed silence grew in the traitor's camp
Now that foul deed was done.
See! on the hills the gleam of steel,
Hark! threatening clarions ring,
See! horse and foot and spear and shield
And the banner of the king!
And in the camp of those without,
Hot tumult and cold fear,
For the traitor only dares be brave,
Until his king be near!
We armed at speed, we sallied forth,
Sir Hugh was at our head;
He set his teeth and he marked his path
By a line of traitors, dead.
He hacked his way straight to the churl
Who did the boy to death,
He swung his sword in his two strong hands
And clove him to the teeth.
And while the blade was held in the bone,
The caitiffs round him pressed,
And he died, as one of his line should die,
With three blades in his breast.
And when they told the king these things,
He turned his head away,
And said: "A braver man than I
Has fallen for me this day!"
FEBRUARY
The Spring's in the air —
Here, there,
Everywhere!
Though there's scarce a green tip to a bud,
Spring laughs over hill and plain,
As the sunlight turns the lane's mud
To a splendour of copper one way, of silver the other;
And longings one cannot smother,
And delight that sings through the brain,
Turn all one's life into glory —
'Tis the old new ravishing story —
The Spring's here again!
When the leaves grew red
And dead,
We said:
"See how much more fair
Than the green leaves shimmering
Are the mists and the tints of decay!"
In the dainty dreamings that lighted the gray November,
Did our hearts not remember
The green woods – and linnets that sing?
Ah, we knew Spring was lost, and pretended
'Twas Autumn we loved. Lies are ended;
Thank God for the Spring!
APRIL
Who calls the Autumn season drear?
It was in Autumn that we met,
When under foot dead leaves lay wet
In the black London gardens, dear.
The fog was yellow everywhere,
And very thick in Finsbury Square,
Where in those days we used to meet.
I used to buy you violets sweet
From flower-girls down by Moorgate Street.
'Twas Autumn then – can we forget? —
When first we met.
Here – take his father's knife!"
With that he flung the long knife down
From off the castle wall,
It glimmered and gleamed in the brave sunlight,
Full in the sight of all.
Sir Hugh passed down the turret stair,
We held our breath in awe …
May my tongue wither ere it tell
The damnèd work we saw!
When all was done, a shout went up
From that accursèd crew,
And from the chapel's silence dim
Came forth in haste Sir Hugh.
"And what may mean this clamour and din?"
"Sir Hugh, thy son is dead!"
"I deemed the foe had entered in,
But God is good!" he said.
We stood upon the topmost tower,
Full in the setting sun;
Shamed silence grew in the traitor's camp
Now that foul deed was done.
See! on the hills the gleam of steel,
Hark! threatening clarions ring,
See! horse and foot and spear and shield
And the banner of the king!
And in the camp of those without,
Hot tumult and cold fear,
For the traitor only dares be brave,
Until his king be near!
We armed at speed, we sallied forth,
Sir Hugh was at our head;
He set his teeth and he marked his path
By a line of traitors, dead.
He hacked his way straight to the churl
Who did the boy to death,
He swung his sword in his two strong hands
And clove him to the teeth.
And while the blade was held in the bone,
The caitiffs round him pressed,
And he died, as one of his line should die,
With three blades in his breast.
And when they told the king these things,
He turned his head away,
And said: "A braver man than I
Has fallen for me this day!"
FEBRUARY
The Spring's in the air —
Here, there,
Everywhere!
Though there's scarce a green tip to a bud,
Spring laughs over hill and plain,
As the sunlight turns the lane's mud
To a splendour of copper one way, of silver the other;
And longings one cannot smother,
And delight that sings through the brain,
Turn all one's life into glory —
'Tis the old new ravishing story —
The Spring's here again!
When the leaves grew red
And dead,
We said:
"See how much more fair
Than the green leaves shimmering
Are the mists and the tints of decay!"
In the dainty dreamings that lighted the gray November,
Did our hearts not remember
The green woods – and linnets that sing?
Ah, we knew Spring was lost, and pretended
'Twas Autumn we loved. Lies are ended;
Thank God for the Spring!
APRIL
Who calls the Autumn season drear?
It was in Autumn that we met,
When under foot dead leaves lay wet
In the black London gardens, dear.
The fog was yellow everywhere,
And very thick in Finsbury Square,
Where in those days we used to meet.
I used to buy you violets sweet
From flower-girls down by Moorgate Street.
'Twas Autumn then – can we forget? —
When first we met.
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Последний отзыв
Книга дельная. Без воды, приводятся реальные кейсы и способы их разрешения. Много практичных полезных советов и методик. Кое-что уже испробовала в дел...
Далее