Мэри Уортли Монтегю (Mary Wortley Montagu) Текст оригинала на английском языке Constantinople Written January 1718 in the Chiosk at Pera, overlooking Constantinople Give me Great God (said I) a Little Farm in Summer shady, & in Winter warm where a cool spring gives birth to a clear brook by Nature slideing down a mossy Rock Not artfully in Leaden Pipes convey'd Or greatly falling in a forc'd Cascade Pure & unsully'd winding throu' ye Shade. All bounteous Heaven has added to my Praier a softer Climate and a purer Air. Our Frozen Isle now chilling Winter binds Deform'd by Rains, & rough wth blasting Winds ye wither'd Woods grown white wth hoary Frost by driving storms their scatter'd beautys lost The Trembling birds their leaveless coverts shun And seek in distant Climes a warmer Sun The Water Nymphs their silenced Urns deplore Even Thames benumb'd a River now no more The barren Meadows give no more delight by Glist'ning Snows made painfull to ye Sight. Here Summer reigns wth one Eternal Smile And double Harvests bless ye happy Soil. Fair, fertile Fields to warm Indulgent Heaven Has every Charm of every Season given! No Killing Cold deforms ye Beauteous Year The springing Flowers no coming Winter Fear But as ye Parent Rose decays & dies ye Infant Buds wth brighter Colours rise And with fresh sweets ye Mother-scent supplys Near them the Vi'let glows wth odours blest And blooms in more than Tyrian Purple drest The rich Jonquils their golden gleam display And shine in glorys emulateing day. These chearfull Groves their living Leaves retain The Streams still murmur undefil'd by Rain And growing Green adorns ye Fruitfull Plain The warbling Kind uninterrupted Sing, Warm'd wth Enjoyment of perpetual Spring. Here from my Window I at once survey The crouded City, & resounding Sea In distant Views see Assian Mountains rise And Lose their Snowy Summits in ye Skies. Above those Mountains high Olympus Tow'rs The Parliamental Seat of Heavenly Powers. New to ye Sight my ravish'd Eyes admire Each guilded Crescent & each Antique Spire The Fair Serail where sunk in Idle ease The Lazy Monarch melts his thoughtless days The Marble Mosques beneath whose Ample Domes Fierce Warlike Sultans sleep in peacefull Tombs Those lofty Structures once the Christian boast Their Names, their Honnours, & their Beautys lost Those Altars bright wth Gold, wth Sculpture grac'd By barbarous Zeal of savage Foes defac'd Convents where Emperors profess'd of old The Labour'd Pillars that their Triumphs told. Vain Monuments of Men that once were great! Sunk, undistinguish'd, by one Common Fate! How art thou falln Imperial City, Low! Where are thy Hopes of Roman Glory now? Where are thy Palaces by Prelates rais'd Where preistly Pomp in Purple Lustre blaz'd? So vast, that Youthfull Kings might there reside So Splendid; to content a Patriarchs pride Where Grecian Artists all their skill displayd Before ye happy Sciences decay'd; So vast, that Youthfull Kings might there reside So Splendid; to content a Patriarchs Pride; Convents where Emperors proffess'd of Old, The Labour'd Pillars that their Triumphs told, Vain Monuments of Men that once were great! Sunk, undistinguish'd in one common Fate! One Little Spot, the small Fenar contains, Of Greek Nobillity, the poor Remains, Where other Helens show like powerfull Charms As once engag'd the Warring World in Arms: Those Names that Roial Auncestry can boast In mean Mechanic Arts obscurely lost Those Eyes a second Homer might inspire, fix'd at the Loom, destroy their useless Fire. Greiv'd at a view which strikes vpon my Mind The short liv'd Vanity of Human kind In Gaudy Objects I indulge my Sight, And turn where Eastern Pomp gives gay delight. See; the vast Train in various Habits dress'd! By the Bright Seymetar and Sable Vest; The Vizier proud, distinguish'd o're the rest! Six slaves in gay Attire his Bridle hold; His Bridle rough with Gems, his Stirups Gold; His Snowy Steed adorn'd with lavish Pride Whole Troops of Soldiers mounted by his Side, These toss the Plumy Crest, Arabian Coursers guide. With awfull Duty all decline their Eyes, No bellowing Shouts of noisy Crouds arise; Silence in solemn State the march attends Till at the dread Divan the slow processions ends. Yet not these Objects all profusely Gay, The Gilded Navy that adorns the Sea, The riseing City in Confusion fair; Magnificently form'd irregular Where Woods and Palaces at once surprise Gardens, on Gardens, Domes on Domes arise And endless Beauties tire the wandering Eyes, So sooths my Wishes, or so charms my Mind, As this Retreat, secure from Human kind. No Knaves successfull Craft does Spleen excite No Coxcombs tawdry Splendour shocks my Sight; No Mob Alarm awakes my Female Fears, No unrewarded Merit asks my Tears; Nor Praise my Mind, nor Envy hurts my Ear, Even Fame it selfe can hardly reach me here, Impertinence with all her Tattling Train Fair-sounding Flatterys delicious Bane Censorious Folly; Noisy Party Rage; The Thousand with which she must engage Who dare have Virtue in a Vicious Age. |
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