The Poetry Collections of Lewis Carroll. Lewis CarrollЧитать онлайн книгу.
For slower still, and still more slow,
That horseman and that charger go, And scarce advance at all.
And now two roads to choose from
Are in that rider’s sight:
In front the road to Dalton,
And New Croft upon the right.
“I can’t get by!” he bellows,
“I really am not able!
Though I pull my shoulder out of joint,
I cannot get him past this point,
For it leads unto his stable!”
Then out spake Ulfrid Longbow,(37)
A valiant youth was he,
“Lo! I will stand on thy right hand
And guard the pass for thee!”
And out spake fair Flureeza,(38)
His sister eke was she,
“I will abide on thy other side,
And turn thy steed for thee!”
And now commenced a struggle
Between that steed and rider,
For all the strength that he hath left
Doth not suffice to guide her.
Though Ulfrid and his sister
Have kindly stopped the way,
And all the crowd have cried aloud,
“We can’t wait here all day!”
Round turned he as not deigning
Their words to understand,
But he slipped the stirrups from his feet
The bridle from his hand,
And grasped the mane full lightly,
And vaulted from his seat,
And gained the road in triumph,(39)
And stood upon his feet.
All firmly till that moment
Had Ulfrid Longbow stood,
And faced the foe right valiantly,
As every warrior should.
But when safe on terra firma
His brother he did spy,
“What did you do that for?” he cried, Then unconcerned he stepped aside
And let it canter by.
They gave him bread and butter,(40)
That was of public right,
As much as four strong rabbits
Could munch from morn to night, For he’d done a deed of daring,
And faced that savage steed,
And therefore cups of coffee sweet,
And everything that was a treat,
Were but his right and meed.
And often in the evenings,
When the fire is blazing bright, When books bestrew the table
And moths obscure the light,
When crying children go to bed,
A struggling, kicking load;
We’ll talk of Ulfrid Longbow’s deed,
How, in his brother’s utmost need,
Back to his aid he flew with speed,
And how he faced the fiery steed,
And kept the New Croft Road.
The Two Brothers
There were two brothers at Twyford school,
And when they had left the place, It was, “Will ye learn Greek and Latin?
Or will ye run me a race?
Or will ye go up to yonder bridge,
And there we will angle for dace?”
“I’m too stupid for Greek and for Latin,
I’m too lazy by half for a race, So I’ll even go up to yonder bridge,
And there we will angle for dace.”
He has fitted together two joints of his rod, And to them he has added another, And then a great hook he took from his book, And ran it right into his brother.
Oh much is the noise that is made among boys When playfully pelting a pig,
But a far greater pother was made by his brother When flung from the top of the brigg.
The fish hurried up by the dozens,
All ready and eager to bite,
For the lad that he flung was so tender and young, It quite gave them an appetite.
Said he, “Thus shall he wallop about
And the fish take him quite at their ease, For me to annoy it was ever his joy,
Now I’ll teach him the meaning of ‘Tees’!”
The wind to his ear brought a voice,
“My brother, you didn’t had ought ter!
And what have I done that you think it such fun To indulge in the pleasure of slaughter?
“A good nibble or bite is my chiefest delight, When I’m merely expected to see, But a bite from a fish is not quite what I wish, When I get it performed upon me; And just now here’s a swarm of dace at my arm, And a perch has got hold of my knee.
“For water my thirst was not great at the first, And of fish I have quite sufficien—”
“Oh fear not!” he cried, “for whatever betide, We are both in the selfsame condition!
“I am sure that our state’s very nearly alike (Not considering the question of slaughter), For I have my perch on the top of the bridge, And you have your perch in the water.
“I stick to my perch and your perch sticks to you, We are really extremely alike; I’ve a turn-pike up here, and I very much fear You may soon have a turn with a pike.”
“Oh grant but one wish! If I’m took by a fish (For your bait is your brother, good man!) Pull him up if you like, but I hope you will strike As gently as ever you can.”
“If the fish be a trout, I’m afraid there’s no doubt I must strike him like lightning that’s greased; If the fish be a pike, I’ll engage not to strike, Till I’ve waited ten minutes at least.”
“But in those ten minutes to desolate Fate
Your brother a victim may fall!”
“I’ll reduce it to five, so perhaps you’ll survive, But the chance is exceedingly small.”