Младенцы ни при чем…
Но много жертв, и слез, и бед
Должно быть в каждой из побед.
Стоял на поле страшный смрад.
Закончилась война.
А горы трупов, говорят, —
Победы той цена.
Недаром рядышком всегда
Слова "победа" и "беда"."
Наш герцог Мальборо — герой!
Он славу заслужил!"
"Нет, дедушка, он был плохой!
Ведь он людей убил!"
Но не смутила внучка деда…
"То все-таки была победа!
Мы славим подвиги отцов,
Их ратные дела…"
"А что же, дед, в конце концов,
Победа нам дала?"
"Не знаю точно, непоседа.
Но… славная была победа!"
It was a summer evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun,
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine,
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet
In playing there had found,
That was so large and smooth and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,
'Tis some poor fellow's skull, said he,
Who fell in the great victory.
I find them in the garden,
For there's many here about,
And often when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out;
For many thousand men, said he
Were slain in the great victory.
Now tell us what t'was all about,
Young Peterkin, he cries,
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
Now tell us all about the war,
And what they kill'd each other for.
It was the English, Kaspar cried,
That put the French to rout;
But what they kill'd each other for,
I couldn't well make out;
But every body said, quoth he,
That t'was a famous victory.
My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to he ground
And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.
With fire and sward the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then,
And new-born baby died.
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won,
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.
Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
And our good prince Eugene. —
Why 'twas a very wicked thing!
Said little Wilhelmine.
Nay-nay- my little girl, quoth he,
It was a famous victory.
