Читать книгу Poems by Adam Lindsay Gordon - Adam Lindsay Gordon - Страница 15

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[Translated from the Spanish]

Francesca.

Crush'd and throng'd are all the places

In our amphitheatre,

'Midst a sea of swarming faces

I can yet distinguish her;

Dost thou triumph, dark-brow'd Nina?

Is my secret known to thee?

On the sands of yon arena

I shall yet my vengeance see.

Now through portals fast careering

Picadors are disappearing;

Now the barriers nimbly clearing

Has the hindmost chulo flown.

Clots of dusky crimson streaking,

Brindled flanks and haunches reeking,

Wheels the wild bull, vengeance seeking,

On the matador alone.

Features by sombrero shaded,

Pale and passionless and cold;

Doublet richly laced and braided,

Trunks of velvet slash'd with gold,

Blood-red scarf, and bare Toledo—

Mask more subtle, and disguise

Far less shallow, thou dost need, oh,

Traitor, to deceive my eyes.

Shouts of noisy acclamation,

Breathing savage expectation,

Greet him while he takes his station

Leisurely, disdaining haste;

Now he doffs his tall sombrero,

Fools! applaud your butcher hero,

Ye would idolise a Nero,

Pandering to public taste.

From the restless Guadalquivir

To my sire's estates he came,

Woo'd and won me, how I shiver!

Though my temples burn with shame.

I, a proud and high-born lady,

Daughter of an ancient race,

'Neath the vine and olive shade I

Yielded to a churl's embrace.

To a churl my vows were plighted,

Well my madness he requited,

Since, by priestly ties, united

To the muleteer's child;

And my prayers are wafted o'er him,

That the bull may crush and gore him,

Since the love that once I bore him

Has been changed to hatred wild.

Nina.

Save him! aid him! oh, Madonna!

Two are slain if he is slain;

Shield his life, and guard his honour,

Let me not entreat in vain.

Sullenly the brindled savage

Tears and tosses up the sand;

Horns that rend and hoofs that ravage,

How shall man your shock withstand?

On the shaggy neck and head lie

Frothy flakes, the eyeballs redly

Flash, the horns so sharp and deadly

Lower, short, and strong, and straight;

Fast, and furious, and fearless,

Now he charges;—virgin peerless,

Lifting lids, all dry and tearless,

At thy throne I supplicate.

Francesca.

Cool and calm, the perjured varlet

Stands on strongly-planted heel,

In his left a strip of scarlet,

In his right a streak of steel;

Ah! the monster topples over,

Till his haunches strike the plain!—

Low-born clown and lying lover,

Thou hast conquer'd once again.