По всем вопросам обращайтесь на: info@litportal.ru
(©) 2003-2024.
✖
The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats. Volume 3 of 8. The Countess Cathleen. The Land of Heart's Desire. The Unicorn from the Stars
Настройки чтения
Размер шрифта
Высота строк
Поля
I long to see my master’s face again,
For I turn homesick.
SECOND MERCHANT
I too tire of toil.
[They go out, and return as before, with their bags full.
SECOND MERCHANT
[Pointing to the oratory.]
How may we gain this woman for our lord?
This pearl, this turquoise fastened in his crown
Would make it shine like His we dare not name.
Now that the winds are heavy with our kind,
Might we not kill her, and bear off her spirit
Before the mob of angels were astir?
[A diadem and a heap of jewels fall from the bag.
FIRST MERCHANT
Who tore the bag?
SECOND MERCHANT
The finger of Priest John
When he fled through the leather. I had thought
Because his was an old and little spirit
The tear would hardly matter.
FIRST MERCHANT
This comes, brother,
Of stealing souls that are not rightly ours.
If we would win this turquoise for our lord,
It must go dropping down of its freewill.
She will have heard the noise. She will stifle us
With holy names.
[He goes to the oratory door and opens it a little, and then closes it.]
No, she has fallen asleep.
SECOND MERCHANT
The noise wakened the household. While you spoke
I heard chairs moved, and heard folk’s shuffling feet.
And now they are coming hither.
A VOICE [within]
It was here.
ANOTHER VOICE
No, further away.
ANOTHER VOICE
It was in the western tower.
ANOTHER VOICE
Come quickly; we will search the western tower.
FIRST MERCHANT
We still have time – they search the distant rooms.
Call hither the fading and the unfading fires.
SECOND MERCHANT
[Going to the window.]
There are none here. They tired and strayed from hence —
Unwilling labourers.
FIRST MERCHANT
I will draw them in.
[He cries through the window.
Come hither, you lost souls of men, who died
In drunken sleep, and by each other’s hands
When they had bartered you – come hither all
Who mourn among the scenery of your sins,
Turning to animal and reptile forms,
The visages of passions; hither, hither —
Leave marshes and the reed-encumbered pools,
You shapeless fires, that were the souls of men,
And are a fading wretchedness.
SECOND MERCHANT
They come not.
FIRST MERCHANT
For I turn homesick.
SECOND MERCHANT
I too tire of toil.
[They go out, and return as before, with their bags full.
SECOND MERCHANT
[Pointing to the oratory.]
How may we gain this woman for our lord?
This pearl, this turquoise fastened in his crown
Would make it shine like His we dare not name.
Now that the winds are heavy with our kind,
Might we not kill her, and bear off her spirit
Before the mob of angels were astir?
[A diadem and a heap of jewels fall from the bag.
FIRST MERCHANT
Who tore the bag?
SECOND MERCHANT
The finger of Priest John
When he fled through the leather. I had thought
Because his was an old and little spirit
The tear would hardly matter.
FIRST MERCHANT
This comes, brother,
Of stealing souls that are not rightly ours.
If we would win this turquoise for our lord,
It must go dropping down of its freewill.
She will have heard the noise. She will stifle us
With holy names.
[He goes to the oratory door and opens it a little, and then closes it.]
No, she has fallen asleep.
SECOND MERCHANT
The noise wakened the household. While you spoke
I heard chairs moved, and heard folk’s shuffling feet.
And now they are coming hither.
A VOICE [within]
It was here.
ANOTHER VOICE
No, further away.
ANOTHER VOICE
It was in the western tower.
ANOTHER VOICE
Come quickly; we will search the western tower.
FIRST MERCHANT
We still have time – they search the distant rooms.
Call hither the fading and the unfading fires.
SECOND MERCHANT
[Going to the window.]
There are none here. They tired and strayed from hence —
Unwilling labourers.
FIRST MERCHANT
I will draw them in.
[He cries through the window.
Come hither, you lost souls of men, who died
In drunken sleep, and by each other’s hands
When they had bartered you – come hither all
Who mourn among the scenery of your sins,
Turning to animal and reptile forms,
The visages of passions; hither, hither —
Leave marshes and the reed-encumbered pools,
You shapeless fires, that were the souls of men,
And are a fading wretchedness.
SECOND MERCHANT
They come not.
FIRST MERCHANT
Другие электронные книги автора William Butler Yeats
Последний отзыв
интересный учебник