Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “The Quadroon Girl”

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The Quadroon Girl The Slaver in the broad lagoon Lay moored with idle sail; He waited for the rising moon, And for the evening gale. Under the shore his boat was tied, And all her listless crew Watched the gray alligator slide Into the still bayou. Odors of orange-flowers, and spice, Reached them from time to time, Like airs that breathe from Paradise Upon a world of crime. The Planter, under his roof of thatch, Smoked thoughtfully and slow; The Slaver’s thumb was on the latch, He seemed in haste to go. He said, «My ship at anchor rides In … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “The Warning”

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Стихотворение американского поэта Генри Уодсворт Лонгфелло (1807 – 1882) «Предостережение» на английском и русском языках. The Warning Beware! The Israelite of old, who tore The lion in his path,—when, poor and blind, He saw the blessed light of heaven no more, Shorn of his noble strength and forced to grind In prison, and at last led forth to be A pander to Philistine revelry,— Upon the pillars of the temple laid His desperate hands, and in its overthrow Destroyed himself, and with him those who made A cruel mockery of his sightless woe; The poor, blind Slave, the scoff and … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “Afternoon in February”

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Afternoon in February The day is ending, The night is descending; The marsh is frozen, The river dead. Through clouds like ashes The red sun flashes On village windows That glimmer red. The snow recommences; The buried fences Mark no longer The road o’er the plain; While through the meadows, Like fearful shadows, Slowly passes A funeral train. The bell is pealing, And every feeling Within me responds To the dismal knell; Shadows are trailing, My heart is bewailing And tolling within Like a funeral bell. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) Февральский вечер День угасает, Ночь наступает, Скованы льдами … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “Four by the Clock”

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Four by the Clock Four by the clock! and yet not day; But the great world rolls and wheels away, With its cities on land, and its ships at sea, Into the dawn that is to be! Only the lamp in the anchored bark Sends its glimmer across the dark, And the heavy breathing of the sea Is the only sound that comes to me. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) Четыре часа утра Четвертый час… Во тьме ночной Летит в пространство шар земной. Несет он земли и моря Туда, где встретит их заря. И лишь фонарь на корабле Мерцает … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “A Dutch Picture”

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A Dutch Picture Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his buccaneers; He has singed the beard of the King of Spain, And carried away the Dean of Jaen And sold him in Algiers. In his house by the Maese, with its roof of tiles, And weathercocks flying aloft in air, There are silver tankards of antique styles, Plunder of convent and castle, and piles Of carpets rich and rare. In his tulip-garden there by the town, Overlooking the sluggish stream, With his Moorish cap and dressing-gown, The old sea-captain, hale and brown, Walks in a waking … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “Mezzo Cammin”

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Mezzo Cammin Half of my life is gone, and I have left The years slipped from me and have not fulfilled The aspiration of my youth, to build Some tower of song with lofty parapet. Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret Of restless passions that would not be stilled, But sorrow and a care that almost killed, Kept me from what I may accomplish yet; Though half-way up the hill, I see the Past Lying beneath me with its sounds and sights,- A city in the twilight dim and vast, With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights,- And … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “The Arrow and the Song”

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The Arrow and the Song I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) Стрела … Читать далее →