Последний отзыв
Очень интересная!
По всем вопросам обращайтесь на: info@litportal.ru
(©) 2003-2024.
✖
The poetical works of George MacDonald in two volumes — Volume 1
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
Thy centre-thought of living beauty, born
In thee, and send it home to dwell with me?
[He leans on the wall.]
Lilia
(softly).
Am I in heaven? There's something makes me glad,
As if I were in heaven! Yes, yes, I am.
I see the flashing of ten thousand glories;
I hear the trembling of a thousand wings,
That vibrate music on the murmuring air!
Each tiny feather-blade crushes its pool
Of circling air to sound, and quivers music!—
What is it, though, that makes me glad like this?
I knew, but cannot find it—I forget.
It must be here—what was it?—Hark! the fall,
The endless going of the stream of life!—
Ah me! I thirst, I thirst,—I am so thirsty!
[Querulously.]
[JULIAN gives her drink, supporting her. She looks at him again, with large wondering eyes.]
Ah! now I know—I was so very thirsty!
[He lays her down. She is comforted, and falls asleep. He extinguishes the light, and looks out of the window.]
Julian.
The gray earth dawning up, cold, comfortless;
With its obtrusive I am written large
Upon its face!
[Approaches the bed, and gazes on LILIA silently with clasped hands; then returns to the window.]
She sleeps so peacefully!
O God, I thank thee: thou hast sent her sleep.
Lord, let it sink into her heart and brain.
Enter Nurse.
Oh, nurse, I'm glad you're come! She is asleep.
You must be near her when she wakes again.
I think she'll be herself. But do be careful—
Right cautious how you tell her I am here.
Sweet woman-child, may God be in your sleep!
[JULIAN goes.]
Nurse.
Bless her white face, she looks just like my daughter,
That's now a saint in heaven! Just those thin cheeks,
And eyelids hardly closed over her eyes!—
Dream on, poor darling! you are drinking life
From the breast of sleep. And yet I fain would see
Your shutters open, for I then should know
Whether the soul had drawn her curtains back,
To peep at morning from her own bright windows.
Ah! what a joy is ready, waiting her,
To break her fast upon, if her wild dreams
Have but betrayed her secrets honestly!
Will he not give thee love as dear as thine!
SCENE XI.—A hilly road. STEPHEN, trudging alone, pauses to look around him
Stephen.
Not a footprint! not a trace that a blood-hound
would nose at! But Stephen shall be acknowledged
good dog and true. If I had him within stick-length—mind
thy head, brother Julian! Thou hast not
hair enough to protect it, and thy tonsure shall not.
Neither shalt thou tarry at Jericho.—It is a poor man
that leaves no trail; and if thou wert poor, I would not
follow thee.
[Sings.]
Oh, many a hound is stretching out
His two legs or his four,
And the saddled horses stand about
The court and the castle door,
Till out come the baron, jolly and stout,
To hunt the bristly boar!
The emperor, he doth keep a pack
In his antechambers standing,
And up and down the stairs, good lack!
And eke upon the landing:
A straining leash, and a quivering back,
And nostrils and chest expanding!
The devil a hunter long hath been,
Though Doctor Luther said it:
Of his canon-pack he was the dean,
And merrily he led it:
The old one kept them swift and lean
On faith—that's devil's credit!
Each man is a hunter to his trade,
And they follow one another;
But such a hunter never was made
As the monk that hunted his brother!
And the runaway pig, ere its game be played,
In thee, and send it home to dwell with me?
[He leans on the wall.]
Lilia
(softly).
Am I in heaven? There's something makes me glad,
As if I were in heaven! Yes, yes, I am.
I see the flashing of ten thousand glories;
I hear the trembling of a thousand wings,
That vibrate music on the murmuring air!
Each tiny feather-blade crushes its pool
Of circling air to sound, and quivers music!—
What is it, though, that makes me glad like this?
I knew, but cannot find it—I forget.
It must be here—what was it?—Hark! the fall,
The endless going of the stream of life!—
Ah me! I thirst, I thirst,—I am so thirsty!
[Querulously.]
[JULIAN gives her drink, supporting her. She looks at him again, with large wondering eyes.]
Ah! now I know—I was so very thirsty!
[He lays her down. She is comforted, and falls asleep. He extinguishes the light, and looks out of the window.]
Julian.
The gray earth dawning up, cold, comfortless;
With its obtrusive I am written large
Upon its face!
[Approaches the bed, and gazes on LILIA silently with clasped hands; then returns to the window.]
She sleeps so peacefully!
O God, I thank thee: thou hast sent her sleep.
Lord, let it sink into her heart and brain.
Enter Nurse.
Oh, nurse, I'm glad you're come! She is asleep.
You must be near her when she wakes again.
I think she'll be herself. But do be careful—
Right cautious how you tell her I am here.
Sweet woman-child, may God be in your sleep!
[JULIAN goes.]
Nurse.
Bless her white face, she looks just like my daughter,
That's now a saint in heaven! Just those thin cheeks,
And eyelids hardly closed over her eyes!—
Dream on, poor darling! you are drinking life
From the breast of sleep. And yet I fain would see
Your shutters open, for I then should know
Whether the soul had drawn her curtains back,
To peep at morning from her own bright windows.
Ah! what a joy is ready, waiting her,
To break her fast upon, if her wild dreams
Have but betrayed her secrets honestly!
Will he not give thee love as dear as thine!
SCENE XI.—A hilly road. STEPHEN, trudging alone, pauses to look around him
Stephen.
Not a footprint! not a trace that a blood-hound
would nose at! But Stephen shall be acknowledged
good dog and true. If I had him within stick-length—mind
thy head, brother Julian! Thou hast not
hair enough to protect it, and thy tonsure shall not.
Neither shalt thou tarry at Jericho.—It is a poor man
that leaves no trail; and if thou wert poor, I would not
follow thee.
[Sings.]
Oh, many a hound is stretching out
His two legs or his four,
And the saddled horses stand about
The court and the castle door,
Till out come the baron, jolly and stout,
To hunt the bristly boar!
The emperor, he doth keep a pack
In his antechambers standing,
And up and down the stairs, good lack!
And eke upon the landing:
A straining leash, and a quivering back,
And nostrils and chest expanding!
The devil a hunter long hath been,
Though Doctor Luther said it:
Of his canon-pack he was the dean,
And merrily he led it:
The old one kept them swift and lean
On faith—that's devil's credit!
Each man is a hunter to his trade,
And they follow one another;
But such a hunter never was made
As the monk that hunted his brother!
And the runaway pig, ere its game be played,
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
Последний отзыв
Очень интересная!