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The Poetry Collections of Lewis Carroll. Lewis CarrollЧитать онлайн книгу.

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in fairies.

If you are able,

Don’t have a stable

With any mangers.

Be rude to strangers.

Moral: Behave.

Horrors

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Methought I walked a dismal place

Dim horrors all around;

The air was thick with many a face,

And black as night the ground.

I saw a monster come with speed,

Its face of grimmliest green,

On human beings used to feed,

Most dreadful to be seen.

I could not speak, I could not fly,

I fell down in that place,

I saw the monster’s horrid eye

Come leering in my face!

Amidst my scarcely-stifled groans,

Amidst my moanings deep,

I heard a voice, “Wake! Mr. Jones,

You’re screaming in your sleep!”

(1850)

Misunderstandings

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If such a thing had been my thought,

I should have told you so before,

But as I didn’t, then you ought

To ask for such a thing no more,

For to teach one who has been taught

Is always thought an awful bore.

Now to commence my argument,

I shall premise an observation,

On which the greatest kings have leant

When striving to subdue a nation,

And e’en the wretch who pays no rent

By it can solve a hard equation.

Its truth is such, the force of reason

Can not avail to shake its power,

Yet e’en the sun in summer season

Doth not dispel so mild a shower

As this, and he who sees it, sees on

Beyond it to a sunny bower—

No more, when ignorance is treason,

Let wisdom’s brows be cold and sour.

As It Fell upon a Day

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As I was sitting on the hearth

(And O, but a hog is fat!)

A man came hurrying up the path,

(And what care I for that?)

When he came the house unto,

His breath both quick and short he drew.

When he came before the door,

His face grew paler than before.

When he turned the handle round,

The man fell fainting to the ground.

When he crossed the lofty hall,

Once and again I heard him fall.

When he came up to the turret stair,

He shrieked and tore his raven hair.

When he came my chamber in,

(And O, but a hog is fat!)

I ran him through with a golden pin,

(And what care I for that?)

Ye Fattale Cheyse

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Ytte wes a mirke an dreiry cave,

Weet scroggis⁽¹⁾ owr ytte creepe.

Gurgles withyn ye flowan wave

Throw channel braid an deep

Never withyn that dreir recesse

Wes sene ye lyghte of daye,

Quhat bode azont⁽²⁾ yts mirkinesse⁽³⁾

Nane kend an nane mote saye.

Ye monarche rade owr brake an brae

An drave ye yellynge packe,

Hiz meany⁽⁴⁾ au’ richte cadgily⁽⁵⁾

Are wendynge⁽⁶⁾ yn hiz tracke.

Wi’ eager iye, wi’ yalpe an crye

Ye hondes yode⁽⁷⁾ down ye rocks, Ahead of au’ their companye

Renneth ye panky⁽⁸⁾ foxe.

Ye foxe hes soughte that cave of awe

Forewearied⁽⁹⁾ wi’ hiz rin.

Quha nou ys he sae bauld an braw⁽¹⁰⁾

To dare to enter yn?

Wi’ eager bounde hes ilka honde

Gane till that caverne dreir,

Fou⁽¹¹⁾ many a yowl⁽¹²⁾ ys⁽¹³⁾ hearde arounde, Fou⁽¹¹⁾ many a screech of feir.

Like ane wi’ thirstie appetite

Quha swalloweth orange pulp,

Wes hearde a huggle an a bite,

A swallow an a gulp.

Ye kynge hes lap frae aff hiz steid,

Outbrayde⁽¹⁵⁾ hiz trenchant brande; “Quha on my packe of hondes doth feed,

Maun deye benead thilke hande.”

Sae sed, sae dune: ye stonderes⁽¹⁶⁾ hearde Fou many a mickle⁽¹⁷⁾ stroke, Sowns⁽¹⁸⁾ lyke ye flappynge of a birde, A struggle an a choke.

Owte of ye cave scarce fette⁽¹⁹⁾ they ytte, Wi pow⁽²⁰⁾ an push and hau’⁽²¹⁾ — Whereof Y’ve drawne a littel bytte,

Bot durst not draw ytte au.⁽²²⁾

Lays of Sorrow No. 1

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