Читать книгу Selected Poetry and Prose - Percy Bysshe Shelley - Страница 55

Prologue.

Peter Bells, one, two and three,

O’er the wide world wandering be.—

First, the antenatal Peter,

Wrapped in weeds of the same metre,

The so-long-predestined raiment

Clothed in which to walk his way meant

The second Peter; whose ambition

Is to link the proposition,

As the mean of two extremes—

(This was learned from Aldric’s themes)

Shielding from the guilt of schism

The orthodoxal syllogism;

The First Peter—he who was

Like the shadow in the glass

Of the second, yet unripe,

His substantial antitype.—

Then came Peter Bell the Second,

Who henceforward must be reckoned

The body of a double soul,

And that portion of the whole

Without which the rest would seem

Ends of a disjointed dream.—

And the Third is he who has

O’er the grave been forced to pass

To the other side, which is,—

Go and try else,—just like this.

Peter Bell the First was Peter

Smugger, milder, softer, neater,

Like the soul before it is

Born from that world into this.

The next Peter Bell was he,

Predevote, like you and me,

To good or evil as may come;

His was the severer doom,—

For he was an evil Cotter,

And a polygamic Potter.

And the last is Peter Bell,

Damned since our first parents fell,

Damned eternally to Hell—

Surely he deserves it well!