Читать книгу The Poetry Collections of Lewis Carroll - Lewis Carroll - Страница 13

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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⁾