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Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) The Duel ‘I am here to time, you see; The glade is well-screened – eh? – against alarm; Fit place to vindicate by my arm The honour of my spotless wife, Who scorns your libel upon her life In boasting intimacy! ‘ “All hush-offerings you’ll spurn, My husband. Two must come; one only go,” She said. “That he’ll be you I know; To faith like ours Heaven will be just, And I shall abide in fullest trust Your speedy glad return.” ’ ‘Good. Here am also I; And we’ll proceed without more waste of words To warm your cockpit. Of the swords Take you your choice. I shall thereby Feel that on me no blame can lie, Whatever Fate accords.’ So stripped they there, and fought, And the swords clicked and scraped, and the onsets sped; Till the husband fell; and his shirt was red With streams from his heart’s hot cistern. Nought Could save him now; and the other, wrought Maybe to pity, said: ‘Why did you urge on this? Your wife assured you; and ’t had better been That you had let things pass, serene In confidence of long-tried bliss, Holding there could be nought amiss In what my words might mean.’ Then, seeing nor ruth nor rage Could move his foeman more – now Death’s deaf thrall – He wiped his steel, and, with a call Like turtledove to dove, swift broke Into the copse, where under an oak His horse cropt, held by a page. ‘All’s over, Sweet,’ he cried To the wife, thus guised; for the young page was she. ‘’Tis as we hoped and said ’t would be. He never guessed... We mount and ride To where our love can reign uneyed. He’s clay, and we are free.’ Thomas Hardy's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1387 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |