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Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 68, No 420, October 1850
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2017
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A sweet decaying smell.
V
In the season of the tulip-cup
When blossoms clothe the trees,
How sweet to throw the lattice up,
And scent thee on the breeze;
The butterfly is then abroad,
The bee is on the wing,
And on the hawthorn by the road
The linnets sit and sing.
VI
Sweet Wall-flower – sweet Wall-flower!
Thou conjurest up to me,
Full many a soft and sunny hour
Of boyhood's thoughtless glee;
When joy from out the daisies grew,
In woodland pastures green,
And summer skies were far more blue,
Than since they e'er have been.
VII
Now autumn's pensive voice is heard
Amid the yellow bowers,
The robin is the regal bird,
And thou the queen of flowers!
He sings on the laburnum trees,
Amid the twilight dim,
And Araby ne'er gave the breeze
Such scents, as thou to him.
VIII
Rich is the pink, the lily gay,
The rose is summer's guest;
Bland are thy charms when these decay,
Of flowers – first, last, and best!
There may be gaudier on the bower,
And statelier on the tree,
But Wall-flower – loved Wall-flower,
Thou art the flower for me!
THE MASQUERADE OF FREEDOM
I
When Freedom first appeared beneath,
Right simple was the garb she wore:
Her brows were circled with a wreath
Such as the Grecian victors bore:
Her vesture all of spotless white,
Her aspect stately and serene;
And so she moved in all men's sight
As lovely as a Maiden Queen.
II
And queenlike, long she ruled the throng,
As ancient records truly tell;
Their strength she took not from the strong,
But taught them how to use it well.
Her presence graced the peasant's floor
As freely as the noble's hall:
And aye the humbler was the door,
The still more welcome was her call.
III
But simple manners rarely range
Beyond the simpler ages' ken:
And e'en the Virtues sometimes change
Their vesture and their looks, like men.
Pride, noble once, grows close and vain,
And Honour stoops to vulgar things,
And old Obedience slacks the rein,
And murmurs at the rule of kings.
IV
So Freedom, like her sisters too,
Has felt the impulse of the time,
Has changed her garments' blameless hue,
And donn'd the colours dear to crime
First in a Phrygian cap she stalked,
And bore within her grasp the spear;
And ever, when abroad she walk'd,
Men knew Revenge was following near.
V
She moves again – The death-drums roll,
The frantic mobs their chorus raise,
The thunder of the Carmagnole —
The war-chant of the Marseillaise'
Red run the streets with blameless blood —
The guillotine comes clanking down —
V
In the season of the tulip-cup
When blossoms clothe the trees,
How sweet to throw the lattice up,
And scent thee on the breeze;
The butterfly is then abroad,
The bee is on the wing,
And on the hawthorn by the road
The linnets sit and sing.
VI
Sweet Wall-flower – sweet Wall-flower!
Thou conjurest up to me,
Full many a soft and sunny hour
Of boyhood's thoughtless glee;
When joy from out the daisies grew,
In woodland pastures green,
And summer skies were far more blue,
Than since they e'er have been.
VII
Now autumn's pensive voice is heard
Amid the yellow bowers,
The robin is the regal bird,
And thou the queen of flowers!
He sings on the laburnum trees,
Amid the twilight dim,
And Araby ne'er gave the breeze
Such scents, as thou to him.
VIII
Rich is the pink, the lily gay,
The rose is summer's guest;
Bland are thy charms when these decay,
Of flowers – first, last, and best!
There may be gaudier on the bower,
And statelier on the tree,
But Wall-flower – loved Wall-flower,
Thou art the flower for me!
THE MASQUERADE OF FREEDOM
I
When Freedom first appeared beneath,
Right simple was the garb she wore:
Her brows were circled with a wreath
Such as the Grecian victors bore:
Her vesture all of spotless white,
Her aspect stately and serene;
And so she moved in all men's sight
As lovely as a Maiden Queen.
II
And queenlike, long she ruled the throng,
As ancient records truly tell;
Their strength she took not from the strong,
But taught them how to use it well.
Her presence graced the peasant's floor
As freely as the noble's hall:
And aye the humbler was the door,
The still more welcome was her call.
III
But simple manners rarely range
Beyond the simpler ages' ken:
And e'en the Virtues sometimes change
Their vesture and their looks, like men.
Pride, noble once, grows close and vain,
And Honour stoops to vulgar things,
And old Obedience slacks the rein,
And murmurs at the rule of kings.
IV
So Freedom, like her sisters too,
Has felt the impulse of the time,
Has changed her garments' blameless hue,
And donn'd the colours dear to crime
First in a Phrygian cap she stalked,
And bore within her grasp the spear;
And ever, when abroad she walk'd,
Men knew Revenge was following near.
V
She moves again – The death-drums roll,
The frantic mobs their chorus raise,
The thunder of the Carmagnole —
The war-chant of the Marseillaise'
Red run the streets with blameless blood —
The guillotine comes clanking down —
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Последний отзыв
Так получилось, что книга ко мне попала в тяжелый эмоциональный кризис и многое мне дала. Написано актуально, тут многих полезных вещей, никакого злоу...
Далее