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<p>Hither gather as if to a common centre (nest) <add>of all amusements</add><lb/> | |||
' | All what is Joy and Grace in the world<lb/> | ||
There is all that Russia's land can afford<lb/> | |||
Thou excepted, nothing is wanting.</p> | |||
<p>(In translating this poetry, I think you could give<lb/> | |||
to the Song another measure, to make it<lb/> | |||
more lyrical. –)</p> | |||
<p><head><hi rend="underline">The <add>field of</add> battle at Raszyn</hi> by Brodzinski</head></p> | |||
<p>On that field 8.000 Poles were victorious over<lb/> | |||
40,000 Austrians in the year 1809; and <add>these fell</add> <unclear>over</unclear><lb/> | |||
<del>Ga</del> poet Godebski. <unclear>Pamighink</unclear> N<hi rend="superscript">r.</hi> 3 p.349.</p> | |||
<p>Silent is the night, a balmy <del>wind</del> <add>air</add> passes <del>through</del> <add>across</add> the field<lb/> | |||
Upon a watery meadow neigh the horses <hi rend="underline">feeding</hi>.<lb/> | |||
The willows bend their branches <del>to</del> <add>over</add> the stream<lb/> | |||
That angry <del>makes</del> <add>forces</add> its way through the impeding <hi rend="underline"><foreign>trzcina</foreign></hi> {a sort<lb/> | |||
of high thick grass in marshy places.}<lb/> | |||
<note>(<hi rend="underline"><unclear>popelane</unclear></hi> is properly the horses that have their feet tied with ropes, which confines them to one place; as you may have seen that custom in Russia too).</note></p> | |||
<p>Silent is the field; only the boy guardian of the horses<lb/> | |||
Sometimes Awakens the <del>echo</del> sleeping echo over <del>moor and</del> <add>a mourning <del>dark</del> gloomy</add> wood<lb/> | |||
The shifting clouds part over the moon<lb/> | |||
That <del>spreads</del> <add>shoots</add> her silver-<del>beams light</del><add>arrows</add> on the winding stream</p> | |||
<p>Moon! Thou guardian of the fleecy azure vault<lb/> | |||
Not such was <add>here</add> but lazily thy pale light<lb/> | |||
The smoke of war has <del>un</del>veiled thee: and its thunder voice<lb/> | |||
Were repeated <add>widely</add> in <del>the</del> <add>these</add> woods around.</p> | |||
<p>The villagers deserted their <del><unclear>Hou</unclear></del> huts, and burns <add>that stood</add> in fire<lb/> | |||
The infants <add>shreaking</add> in fear concealed their faces in the bosom of their trembling <add>mothers</add><lb/> | |||
The Drum, the clarion, the guns the trampling horses<lb/> | |||
The groans of the dying resounded on these fields</p> | |||
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{{Metadata:{{PAGENAME}}}} | {{Metadata:{{PAGENAME}}}}{{Completed}} | ||
Hither gather as if to a common centre (nest) of all amusements
All what is Joy and Grace in the world
There is all that Russia's land can afford
Thou excepted, nothing is wanting.
(In translating this poetry, I think you could give
to the Song another measure, to make it
more lyrical. –)
The field of battle at Raszyn by Brodzinski
On that field 8.000 Poles were victorious over
40,000 Austrians in the year 1809; and these fell over
Ga poet Godebski. Pamighink Nr. 3 p.349.
Silent is the night, a balmy wind air passes through across the field
Upon a watery meadow neigh the horses feeding.
The willows bend their branches to over the stream
That angry makes forces its way through the impeding trzcina {a sort
of high thick grass in marshy places.}
(popelane is properly the horses that have their feet tied with ropes, which confines them to one place; as you may have seen that custom in Russia too).
Silent is the field; only the boy guardian of the horses
Sometimes Awakens the echo sleeping echo over moor and a mourning dark gloomy wood
The shifting clouds part over the moon
That spreads shoots her silver-beams lightarrows on the winding stream
Moon! Thou guardian of the fleecy azure vault
Not such was here but lazily thy pale light
The smoke of war has unveiled thee: and its thunder voice
Were repeated widely in the these woods around.
The villagers deserted their Hou huts, and burns that stood in fire
The infants shreaking in fear concealed their faces in the bosom of their trembling mothers
The Drum, the clarion, the guns the trampling horses
The groans of the dying resounded on these fields
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Identifier: | JB/110/069/002"JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110. |
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110 |
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069 |
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002 |
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collectanea |
3 |
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recto |
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sir john bowring |
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36059 |
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