Антология - Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах
Название: | Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах | |
Автор: | Антология | |
Жанр: | Поэзия, Самиздат, сетевая литература, Классическая поэзия, Компиляции, Сборники, альманахи, антологии | |
Изадано в серии: | Антология поэзии #2024 | |
Издательство: | неизвестно | |
Год издания: | 2024 | |
ISBN: | неизвестно | |
Отзывы: | Комментировать | |
Рейтинг: | ||
Поделись книгой с друзьями! Помощь сайту: донат на оплату сервера |
Краткое содержание книги "Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах"
Аннотация к этой книге отсутствует.
К этой книге применимы такие ключевые слова (теги) как: билингвальные книги
Читаем онлайн "Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах". [Страница - 3]
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- . . .
- последняя (363) »
Religion hath non attendaunce
Vnto the worlde, but al vpwarde
To the ensample in substance,
Right as the crab goth forewarde.
Take hede also by avysenesse —
Wymmen fro Cartage to Custaunce
Ibanshed have newfanglenesse,
Put in a place perseueraunce.
In clergie is perfite governaunce;
Mesoure with marchaunts is a chef stewarde;
Wight halt trewly ther balaunce,
Right as the crab goth forewarde.
Princes, the reuerence to expresse
Of euery thing by contenaunce —
Endendement double is chef maistras,
FaIs compassing by disseyvaunce,
Which causeth alwey grete disturbance,
French, English, Narman and Picard.
The heuenly signe maketh demonstraunce
Right as the crab goth forewarde!
A Balade: Warning Men To Beware of Deceitful Women
Loke wel aboute, ye that lovers be;Lat nat your lustes lede you to dotage;
Be nat enamoured on al thing that ye see.
Sampson the fort, and Salamon the sage
Deceived were, for al hir gret corage;
Men deme hit is right as they see at y;
Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.
I mene, in women, for al hir cheres queinte,
Trust nat to moche; hir trouthë is but geson;
The fairest outward ful wel can they peinte,
Hir stedfastnes endureth but a seson;
For they feyn frendlines and worchen treson.
And for they be chaungeáble naturally,
Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.
Though al the world do his besy cure
To make women stonde in stablenes,
Hit may nat be, hit is agayn nature;
The world is do whan they lak doublenes;
For they can laughe and love nat; this is expres.
To trust in hem, hit is but fantasy;
Bewar therfore; the blind et many a fly.
What wight on-lyve trusteth in hir cheres
Shal haue at last his guerdon and his mede;
They can shave nerer then rasóurs or sheres;
Al is nat gold that shyneth! Men, take hede;
Hir galle is hid under a sugred wede.
Hit is ful hard hir fantasy t’aspy;
Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.
Women, of kinde, have condicions three;
The first is, that they be fulle of deceit;
To spinne also hit is hir propertee;
And women have a wonderful conceit,
They wepen ofte, and al is but a sleight,
And whan they list, the tere is in the y;
Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.
What thing than eyr is lighter and meveable?
The light, men say, that passeth in a throw;
Al if the light be nat so variable
As is the wind that every wey can blow;
And yet, of reson, som men deme and trow
Women be lightest of hir company;
Bewar therfore; the blind et many a fly.
In short to say, though al the erth so wan
Were parchëmyn smothe, whyte and scribable,
And the gret see, cleped the occian,
Were torned in inke, blakker then is sable,
Ech stik a penne, ech man a scriveyn able,
They coud nat wryte wommannes traitory;
Bewar therfore; the blinde et many a fly.
The London Lackpenny
To London once my steps I bent,Where truth in no wise should be faint;
To Westminster-ward I forthwith went,
To a man of Law to make complaint.
I said, “For Mary’s love, that holy saint,
Pity the poor that would proceed!”
But for lack of money, I could not speed.
And, as I thrust the press among,
By froward chance my hood was gone;
Yet for all that I stayed not long
Till to the King’s Bench I was come.
Before the Judge I kneeled anon
And prayed him for God’s sake take heed.
But for lack of money, I might not speed.
Beneath them sat clerks a great rout,
Which fast did write by one assent;
There stood up one and cried about
“Richard, Robert, and John of Kent!”
I wist not well what this man meant,
He cried so thickly there indeed.
But he that lacked money might not speed.
To the Common Pleas I yode tho,
There sat one with a silken hood:
I ’gan him reverence for to do,
And told my case as well as I could;
How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood;
I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed,
And for lack of money I might not speed.
Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence,
Before the clerks of the Chancery;
Where many I found earning of pence;
But none at all once regarded me.
I gave them my plaint upon my knee;
They liked it well when they had it read;
But, lacking money, I could not be sped.
In Westminster Hall I found out one,
Which went in a long gown of ray;
I crouched and knelt before him; anon,
For Mary’s love, for help I him pray.
“I wot not what thou mean’st”, ’gan he say;
To get me thence he did me bid,
For lack of money I could not speed.
Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor
Would do for me aught although I should die;
Which seing, I gat me out of the door;
Where Flemings began on me for to cry, —
“Master, what will you copen or buy?
Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read?
Lay down your silver, and here you may speed”.
Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor
Would do for me aught although I should die;
Which seing, I gat me out of the door;
Where Flemings began on me for to cry, —
“Master, what will you copen or buy?
Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read?
Lay down your silver, and here you may speed”.
To Westminster Gate I presently went,
When the sun was at high prime;
Cooks to me they took good intent,
And proffered me bread, with ale and wine,
Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine;
A faire cloth they ’gan for to spread,
But, wanting money, I might not then speed.
Then unto London I did me hie,
Of all the land it beareth the prize;
“Hot peascodes!” one began to cry;
“Strawberries ripe!” and “Cherries in the rise!”
One bade me come near and buy some spice;
Pepper and saffrone they ’gan me bede;
But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then to the Cheap I ‘gan me drawn,
Where much people I saw for to stand;
One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn;
Another he taketh me by the --">- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- . . .
- последняя (363) »
Книги схожие с «Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах» по жанру, серии, автору или названию:
Николоз Бараташвили, Григол Абашидзе, Александр Гарсеванович Чавчавадзе и др. - Грузинские романтики Жанр: Поэзия Год издания: 1989 Серия: Классики и современники |
Джо Хилл, Эдгар Аллан По, Роберт Фрост и др. - Поэзия США Жанр: Поэзия Год издания: 1982 Серия: Библиотека литературы США |
Коллектив авторов - У камина. Выпуск 3 Жанр: Поэзия Год издания: 2016 Серия: Антология поэзии |
Другие книги из серии «Антология поэзии»:
Автор неизвестен -- Европейская старинная литература - Поэзия трубадуров. Поэзия миннезингеров. Поэзия вагантов Жанр: Древнеевропейская литература Год издания: 1974 Серия: Библиотека всемирной литературы |
Коллектив авторов - «Пушки & Маяк». Альманах-2022 Жанр: Газеты и журналы Год издания: 2022 Серия: Антология поэзии |
Ольга Корнеева, Мария В Манакова, Наталья Майер и др. - Здравствуй, здравствуй, Новый Год! Жанр: Детские стихи Серия: Антология детской литературы |
Антон Антонович Дельвиг, Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Денис Васильевич Давыдов и др. - Мы рождены для вдохновенья… Поэзия золотого века Жанр: Классическая русская поэзия Год издания: 2023 Серия: Антология поэзии |