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Nathan the Wise; a dramatic poem in five acts
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Год написания книги
2019
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Substantial services in just requital.
Now to an angel what great services
Have ye the power to do? To sing his praise—
Melt in transporting contemplation o’er him—
Fast on his holiday—and squander alms—
What nothingness of use! To me at least
It seems your neighbour gains much more than he
By all this pious glow. Not by your fasting
Is he made fat; not by your squandering, rich;
Nor by your transports is his glory exalted;
Nor by your faith his might. But to a man—
DAYA
Why yes; a man indeed had furnished us
With more occasions to be useful to him.
God knows how readily we should have seized them.
But then he would have nothing—wanted nothing—
Was in himself wrapped up, and self-sufficient,
As angels are.
RECHA
And when at last he vanished—
NATHAN
Vanished? How vanished? Underneath the palms
Escaped your view, and has returned no more.
Or have you really sought for him elsewhere?
DAYA
No, that indeed we’ve not.
NATHAN
Not, Daya, not?
See it does harm, hard-hearted, cold enthusiasts,
What if this angel on a bed of illness—
RECHA
Illness?
DAYA
Ill! sure he is not.
RECHA
A cold shudder
Creeps over me; O Daya, feel my forehead,
It was so warm, ’tis now as chill as ice.
NATHAN
He is a Frank, unused to this hot climate,
Is young, and to the labours of his calling,
To fasting, watching, quite unused—
RECHA
Ill—ill!
DAYA
Thy father only means ’twere possible.
NATHAN
And there he lies, without a friend, or money
To buy him friends—
RECHA
Alas! my father.
NATHAN
Lies
Without advice, attendance, converse, pity,
The prey of agony, of death—
RECHA
Where—where?
NATHAN
He, who, for one he never knew, or saw—
It is enough for him he is a man—
Plunged into fire.
DAYA
O Nathan, Nathan, spare her.
NATHAN
Now to an angel what great services
Have ye the power to do? To sing his praise—
Melt in transporting contemplation o’er him—
Fast on his holiday—and squander alms—
What nothingness of use! To me at least
It seems your neighbour gains much more than he
By all this pious glow. Not by your fasting
Is he made fat; not by your squandering, rich;
Nor by your transports is his glory exalted;
Nor by your faith his might. But to a man—
DAYA
Why yes; a man indeed had furnished us
With more occasions to be useful to him.
God knows how readily we should have seized them.
But then he would have nothing—wanted nothing—
Was in himself wrapped up, and self-sufficient,
As angels are.
RECHA
And when at last he vanished—
NATHAN
Vanished? How vanished? Underneath the palms
Escaped your view, and has returned no more.
Or have you really sought for him elsewhere?
DAYA
No, that indeed we’ve not.
NATHAN
Not, Daya, not?
See it does harm, hard-hearted, cold enthusiasts,
What if this angel on a bed of illness—
RECHA
Illness?
DAYA
Ill! sure he is not.
RECHA
A cold shudder
Creeps over me; O Daya, feel my forehead,
It was so warm, ’tis now as chill as ice.
NATHAN
He is a Frank, unused to this hot climate,
Is young, and to the labours of his calling,
To fasting, watching, quite unused—
RECHA
Ill—ill!
DAYA
Thy father only means ’twere possible.
NATHAN
And there he lies, without a friend, or money
To buy him friends—
RECHA
Alas! my father.
NATHAN
Lies
Without advice, attendance, converse, pity,
The prey of agony, of death—
RECHA
Where—where?
NATHAN
He, who, for one he never knew, or saw—
It is enough for him he is a man—
Plunged into fire.
DAYA
O Nathan, Nathan, spare her.
NATHAN
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Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
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