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Henry Sewell Stokes (Генри Сьюэлл Стоукс) Bodrigan’s Leap FROM Bosworth’s gory field where lay His king a mangled corse, With many a dint Sir Harry came, And spurred his blood-stained horse; Which all that day in that fierce fray Had borne him proudly through, But still for leagues must carry him, Since fast the foes pursue. From night to dawn they still went on, With followers few and faint; Resting brief while in forest drear By well of some old saint: On, on from day to day they fared, Shunning each bower and hall, Until they sight one starry night Bodrigan’s castle wall. The knight’s shrill blast is answered fast, And blithe the warder greets him; And with a smile and with a kiss His lady-love soon meets him: And in that high embrasured tower His war-worn limbs may rest; For place like that for wealth and power Was not in all the West. And many a century it stood To prove its ancient fame; Though but some lowly walls now bear Bodrigan’s honored name. Its princely hall, its bastions strong, Its chapel turrets fair, Are gone like cloud-built palaces, And castles in the air. Not long the respite: on his track The Tudor bloodhounds follow; Trevanion, Edgcumbe, with their pack Creep through the woodland hollow: And now they gather round the walls, Nor care for Cornish kin; Certain if they can seize the knight His ample lands to win. Ay, take the lands, but not the man! He knows their purpose stern, And not with his heart’s blood that day Shall they their wages earn. Down by a secret way the knight Has left his home for aye, And for the cliff he makes that hangs Over the Goran bay. Fast, fast they spring upon his path, He hears their footsteps nigh; Bold from the cliff he leaps, while shrill The baffled hunters cry. In the dark sea they think him drowned, As on the giddy steep They stand and look, and only see The waters wild and deep. They looked and jeered, and made the shore Ring with their savage shout; And still they looked, perchance to see His dead bones tossed about: And then they saw a boat dash through The surge, and as she went The rescued knight above the roar His parting curses sent. Henry Sewell Stokes's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1211 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |