Древо выросло, и вот Золотистый вызрел плод, Глянцем радуя меня И врага к себе маня.
Он тайком во тьме ночной Плод отведал наливной... Мертвым я врага нашел И с улыбкою ушел!
A LITTLE BOY LOST
Nought loves another as itself Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to Thought A greater than itself to know:
And Father, how can I love you, Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That picks up crumbs around the door,
The Priest sat by and heard the child, In trembling zeal he siez'd his hair: He led him by his little coat: And all admir'd the Priestly care.
And standing on the altar high, Lo what a fiend is here! said he: One who sets reason up for judge Of our most holy Mystery.
The weeping child could not be heard, The weeping parents wept in vain: They strip'd him to his little shirt, And bound him in an iron chain.
And burn'd him in a holy place, Where many had been burn'd before: The weeping parents wept in vain. Are such things done on Albions shore.
ЗАБЛУДШИЙ СЫН
"Превыше собственного Я Никто не ставит никого! Того Рассудку не понять, Что за пределами его.
Отец! Как больше мне любить Тебя и ближних заодно? Люблю тебя я, как птенца, Что с паперти клюет зерно".
Священник, это услыхав, Схватил дитя за волоса И к пастве выволок его Под одобренья голоса.
Затем с амвона возопил: "Се Диавол в образе людском! Проникнуть тщилась тварь сия В Святые Таинства умом!"
Заплакал мальчик, но вотще! Не помогли и мать с отцом: Он до исподнего раздет, И цепь железная на нем.
Дитя на площади сожгли, Где жег отступников Закон Не помогли и мать с отцом... Ты видел это, Альбион?
A LITTLE GIRL LOST
Children of the future Age, Reading this indignant page; Know that in a former time, Love! sweet Love! was thought a crime.
In the Age of Gold, Free from winters cold: Youth and maiden bright, To the holy light, Naked in the sunny beams delight.
Once a youthful pair Fili'd with softest care: Met in garden bright, Where the holy light, Had just removd the curtains of the night.
There in rising day, On the grass they play: Parents were afar: Strangers came not near: And the maiden soon forgot her fear.
Tired with kisses sweet They agree to meet, When the silent sleep Waves o'er heavens deep; And the weary tired wanderers weep.
To her father white Game the maiden bright: But his loving look, Like the holy book, All her tender limbs with terror shook.
Ona! pale and weak! To thy father speak: 0 the trembling fear! 0 the dismal care! That shakes the blossoms of my hoary hair.
