Vordsvortu lish' zatem, chtoby ostree pochuvstvovat' svoyu nerazryvnuyu svyaz' s rodnym Ozernym kraem: Poka ne nachalas' moya Doroga piligrima, O Angliya, ne vedal ya, Kak mnoyu ty lyubima. Vse, chto Vordsvort napisal v tu zimu v Goslare, ne imelo otnosheniya k Germanii. On sozdal tam svoj znamenityj liricheskij cikl, posvyashchennyj Lyusi, miloj devushke, rascvetshej i umershej nezametno, kak polevoj cvetok v Ozernom krae. Ego mysli vse chashche obrashchalis' k istokam, k rodnym mestam i vremenam detstva: v eto vremya voznik zamysel i pervye nabroski poemy "Prelyudiya". Nemeckij davalsya i emu, i Doroti ploho, zhili oni zamknuto i s neterpeniem ozhidali, kogda konchatsya zimnie holoda, chtoby pustit'sya v obratnyj put'. Im uzhe bylo yasno, chto oni poselyatsya v Ozernom krae. Vernuvshis' v Angliyu, Uil'yam i Doroti otpravilis' v rodnye mesta i ostanovilis' v semejstve Hatchinsonov, s kotorym oni byli znakomy s detstva. U Hatchinsonov bylo chetyre krasavicy docheri: Peggi, rano umershaya ot chahotki, schitaetsya geroinej cikla stihotvorenij k Lyusi, Meri v nedalekom budushchem stanet zhenoj Vordsvorta, ee sestra Sara budet podolgu zhit' s nimi, v nee mnogie gody budet beznadezhno vlyublen Kol'ridzh, mladshej, Dzhoanne, budet posvyashcheno stihotvorenie Vordsvorta "Skala Dzhoanny". Poka zhe Vordsvort s bratom Dzhonom, davshim den'gi na postrojku ili priobretenie doma, i Kol'ridzhem puteshestvuyut po okrestnostyam, podyskivaya budushchee zhil'e. I vot 17 dekabrya 1799 g. Uil'yam i Doroti perestupili porog svoego doma, izvestnogo pod nazvaniem Dav-Kottedzh (Golubinyj domik), v selenii Grasmir, nepodaleku ot ozera s tem zhe nazvaniem. |to byl vazhnyj den': oni sdelali svoj vybor, nashli svoj obraz zhizni, obreli pochvu pod nogami i oseli. Teper' mozhno bylo dumat' o zhenit'be. Tri mesyaca u nih gostil brat Dzhon, ozhidavshij vozvrashcheniya svoego korablya iz plavaniya i gordyj ne menee Uil'yama i Doroti, chto u sem'i snova est' svoj dom. Dzhon stal k tomu vremeni kapitanom korablya, vozivshego gruzy v Indiyu, ego ozhidala neplohaya kar'era, i on skazal Uil'yamu: "YA budu rabotat' na tebya, a ty postarajsya sdelat' chto-to dlya mira". K neschast'yu, v 1805 g. korabl', kotorym komandoval Dzhon, na puti v Indiyu popal v buryu i utonul. Uil'yam tyazhelo perezhival smert' samogo blizkogo iz brat'ev i posvyatil emu "|legicheskie stihi v pamyat' o moem brate Dzhone Vordsvorte, komandire korablya Ost-Indskoj kompanii "Graf Abergavenni", pogibshem v korablekrushenii 6 fevralya 1805 g.". Poselivshis' v Ozernom krae, Uil'yam i Doroti podyskali po sosedstvu dom dlya Kol'ridzha i ego sem'i, a chut' pozzhe i Sauti s sem'ej poselilsya poblizosti, v Kesvike, perevezya tuda bol'shuyu biblioteku. Vtroem oni i sostavili tak nazyvaemuyu "Ozernuyu shkolu" v anglijskoj poezii, hotya na samom dele byli ochen' razlichny i po urovnyu, i po harakteru darovaniya i, esli ne schitat' yunosheskih popytok sotrudnichestva Kol'ridzha i Sauti, "Liricheskie ballady" byli edinstvennym sovmestnym vystupleniem etih poetov v pechati. No, konechno, obshchenie i obsuzhdenie poeticheskih problem stimulirovali tvorcheskie poiski kazhdogo i, po krajnej mere dlya Vord-svorta i Kol'ridzha, byli neobhodimost'yu. V 1800 g. Vordsvort vypustil v svet vtoroe, rasshirennoe izdanie "Liricheskih ballad", vo vtoroj tom kotorogo voshla poema "Majkl". Sam poet opredelil ee zhanr kak pastoral': vidimo, ego interesovali v to vremya pastoral'naya tradiciya i ee sposoby idealizacii sel'skoj zhizni, tak kak eshche neskol'ko stihotvorenij, otnosyashchihsya k etomu vremeni, imeyut tot zhe podzagolovok: "pastoral'". Odno iz nih, "Lenivye pastushki" (The Idle Shepherd-Boys), izyashchno razvenchaet renessansnuyu pastoral'nuyu ideyu pastusheskoj zhizni kak prekrasnogo dosuga na lone prirody: poka mal'chishki, pasushchie stado, igrayut na svireli i begayut vzapuski, yagnenok padaet v gornyj potok, a spasaet ego ne kto inoj, kak poet, liricheskij geroj stihotvoreniya, kotoromu prihoditsya brat' na sebya chuzhoj trud. Kak vidim, pastoral' raznoobrazna i mnogolika. Na protyazhenii XVIII v. ona vse bolee stremilas' k izobrazheniyu real'nogo sel'skogo zhitelya, a ne uslovnogo poselyanina, i Vordsvort hotel, chtoby poema "Majkl" vosprinimalas' na fone pastoral'noj tradicii, vozmozhno, kak razvitie goldsmitovskoj temy razrushennoj pastorali. Osev na rodnoj zemle i vnikaya v zhizn' svoih nebogatyh zemlyakov, Vordsvort s trevogoj nablyudal process otchuzhdeniya sel'skogo truzhenika, nachavshijsya dazhe v ego gluhom, otdalennom ot stolicy krae. Geroya poemy zaputyvaet denezhnoe poruchitel'stvo, no razve mozhno uprekat' ego v tom, chto on pytalsya pomoch' svoemu rodstvenniku? Mezhdu tem Majklu grozit poterya chasti nasledstvennoj zemli, a teryaya zemlyu, on teryaet chuvstvo hozyaina i smysl svoego truda. Zemlya, kotoruyu on dolzhen ostavit' v nasledstvo synu, doroga emu tak zhe, kak sam syn, prodolzhatel' roda. |to ne prosto chuvstvo sobstvennika; kak dlya geroya ballady "Poslednij iz stada", dlya Majkla rech' idet o dele ego zhizni, o vnutrennej svyazi s rodnym mestom, o smysle svoego zemnogo prednaznacheniya. I on posylaet syna v gorod, gde legche zarabotat' den'gi, chtoby rasplatit'sya s dolgami. No gorod dlya Vordsvorta - sredotochie sovremennoj gubitel'noj, fal'shivoj civilizacii, gde carstvuyut den'gi, i molodoj chelovek ne vyderzhivaet ego iskushenij i gibnet. ZHelaya spasti chast' svoej zemli, Majkl teryaet vse, ved' teper' dazhe ostavshuyusya zemlyu nekomu peredat' v nasledstvo. No mog li starik, vsyu zhizn' prozhivshij v sel'skoj glushi, osoznavat', kakoj opasnosti on podvergal yunogo syna, posylaya ego v gorod? Istoriya Majkla tragichna, i Vordsvort schital etu tragediyu odnoj iz vazhnejshih problem sovremennoj zhizni, on dazhe obratilsya s pis'mom k prem'er-ministru Anglii, poslav emu etu poemu. V 1802 g. Vordsvorty poluchili nakonec otcovskoe nasledstvo i Uil'yam smog zhenit'sya na Meri Hatchinson. Brak byl ochen' schastlivym, chto vidno hotya by po opublikovannoj perepiske {The Love Letters of William and Mary Wordsworth. Ed. by Belt Darlington. Ithaka (N. Y.), 1981.}. Esli Doroti ostavalas' vdohnovitel'nicej ego poezii, to Meri davala poetu oshchushchenie, chto on tverdo stoit na zemle. S 1803 po 1810 g. u nih rodilos' pyatero detej; lyubimicej otca byla starshaya doch' Dora. Meri posvyashcheny "K M. X." iz cikla "Stihotvoreniya o nazvaniyah mest", publikuemoe v nashem sobranii stihotvorenie "Let other bards of angels sing...", dva soneta, napisannye k ee portretu: "O dearer far than light and life are dear..." i "How rich that forehead's calm expance...", kak i mnozhestvo drugih stihotvorenij. V 1803 g., vskore posle rozhdeniya syna, Vordsvort otpravilsya s Doroti i Kol'ridzhem v puteshestvie po SHotlandii i posetil Val'tera Skotta. Doroti zapisala o Skotte v dnevnike: "On privyazan k svoim mestam gorazdo sil'nee, chem kto-libo iz moih znakomyh; kazhetsya, vse ego serdce i dusha otdany shotlandskim rekam, YArrou, Tvidu, Tiviotu i ostal'nym, kotorye my znaem po ego "Balladam shotlandskoj granicy", i ya uverena, chto net ni odnoj istorii, rasskazyvaemoj u kamina v etih krayah, kotoruyu on ne mog by povtorit'..." {Wordsworth, Dorothy. Recollections of a Tour made in Scotland, A.D. 1803. Edinbourgh, 1874, p. 76.}. Otnoshenie Vordsvorta k rodnym mestam bylo shodnym, tol'ko ego Ozernyj kraj byl bolee pustynnym, netronutym, menee bogatym istoricheskimi sobytiyami i vospominaniyami. Skotta zahvatyvali drevnie predaniya. Vordsvorta - devstvennaya priroda i skromnaya, tihaya chastnaya zhizn' redkih sosedej. Eshche v 1800 g. on sozdal cikl "Poem o mestnyh nazvaniyah" (k nim prinadlezhit "Skala Dzhoanny", uvekovechiv nazvaniya blizhajshih mest, bytovavshie v ego semejnom, druzheskom i sosedskom krugu, - nazvaniya, svyazannye ne s obshcheznachimymi istoricheskimi sobytiyami, no s proisshestviyami i chuvstvami uzkogo, chastnogo kruga lic. I v etom Vordsvort byl veren svoemu romanticheskomu kredo: dlya nego istoriya serdca, istoriya chuvstv chastnogo cheloveka byla ne menee znachima i, vozmozhno, bolee interesna, chem vneshnyaya, politicheskaya istoriya. Zrelaya lirika Vordsvorta vdohnovlyalas' prirodoj Ozernogo kraya i sama nalozhila svoj neizgladimyj otpechatok na vospriyatie etogo kraya pokoleniyami anglijskih chitatelej i puteshestvennikov. Lyubopytnye vospominaniya ob obraze zhizni Vordsvorta i ego druzej v Ozernom krae ostavil Tomas de Kvinsi, izvestnyj esseist, proslavivshijsya pozzhe svoimi "Priznaniyami anglichanina-opiomana" (1821). Uchas' v kolledzhe, on prochital "Liricheskie ballady" i proniksya blagogovejnoj lyubov'yu k ih avtoram, chut' pozzhe vstupil v perepisku s Vordsvortom. V konce 1807 g. on vstretil v Londone Kol'ridzha, kotoryj chital lekcii v Korolevskom Institute, i vyzvalsya soprovozhdat' ego zhenu i troih detej v Ozernyj kraj. Molodoj chelovek uzhasno volnovalsya pered vstrechej so svoim kumirom, no, kogda oni pribyli v dom Vordsvortov nezadolgo do vechernego chaepitiya, ego nervoznost' bystro proshla. "Vordsvortov, - vspominal on, - otlichalo serdechnoe gostepriimstvo, a vechernee chaepitie bylo samoj voshititel'noj trapezoj, vremenem otdyha i besedy". De Kvinsi byl ocharovan razgovorom, to velichestvennym, to kak budto plyashushchim i iskryashchimsya. Na sleduyushchij den' - na dozhd' zdes' nikto ne obrashchal vnimaniya - gostya poveli na progulku pokazyvat' ozera (oni proshli okolo shesti mil'), a eshche cherez tri dnya vsya kompaniya sobralas' k Sauti v Kesvik, do kotorogo bylo dobryh dvadcat' shest' mil', i nikogo, krome De Kvinsi, perspektiva prodelat' etot put' peshkom ne smushchala. No chutkaya Doroti ponyala, chto gost' v panike, i nanyala prostuyu fermerskuyu telegu, kotoroj pravila sosedskaya devushka (chto ona delala obychno, kogda zatevalos' dal'nee puteshestvie). De Kvinsi reshil, chto esli takoj sposob peredvizheniya dostatochno horosh dlya Vordsvortov, to i dlya nego tozhe, no bolee vsego on udivilsya tomu, chto vid ih kompanii nichut' ne shokiroval vstrechennyh po doroge sosedej. V obrashchenii Vordsvorta i Sauti De Kvinsi ne zametil osoboj serdechnosti, skoree emu pokazalos', chto oni dostatochno umny, chtoby podderzhivat' dobrososedskie otnosheniya, hotya i ne lyubyat sochinenij drug druga. Sauti gordilsya svoej bogatoj bibliotekoj i, po sluham, skazal o Vordsvorte, chto pustit' ego v biblioteku - vse ravno chto pustit' medvedya v sad, polnyj tyul'panov. Vordsvort ne ispytyval blagogoveniya pered knigami. De Kvinsi sam nablyudal, kak, poluchiv novinku iz Londona, on za zavtrakom razrezal ee stranicy stolovym nozhom {De Quincey, Thomas. Literary Reminiscences. In 2 vols. Boston, 1851.}. Gorazdo slozhnee i dramatichnee skladyvalis' otnosheniya Vordsvorta s Kol'ridzhem. Dva poeta otnosilis' k sovershenno raznym tipam poeticheskoj i chelovecheskoj lichnosti, no etoj raznost'yu temperamentov i darovanij prekrasno dopolnyali drug druga, chto i delalo ih obshchenie takim plodotvornym. Dlya Vordsvorta zhizn' i tvorchestvo sostavlyali odno celoe, ego stihi vyrastali iz ego zhiznennogo opyta i samonablyudenij, byli vo mnogom avtobiografichny, odnako pri etom udivitel'nym obrazom lisheny egocentrizma, romanticheskogo samolyubovaniya. CHelovek tverdyh ubezhdenij, vysokoj nravstvennosti, on byl centrom, oporoj i dlya svoej sem'i, i dlya svoego kruga druzej, schastlivym sem'yaninom i uvazhaemym sosedom. Kol'ridzh zhe prinadlezhal k tomu tipu, o kotorom Pushkin napisal: "Poka ne trebuet poeta k svyashchennoj zhertve Apollon..." Samozabvenno otdavayas' tvorchestvu, on bolee vsego cenil druzheskoe obshchenie s blizkimi po duhu lyud'mi, a v obychnyh zhiznennyh obstoyatel'stvah postupal kak chelovek slaboharakternyj i neposledovatel'nyj. Otlichayas' slabym zdorov'em, Kol'ridzh eshche s universitetskih let privyk prinimat' opium, oblegchavshij ego boli. Odno vremya emu kazalos', chto opium stimuliruet ego tvorchestvo, kogda zhe on ponyal, chto periody depressii stanovyatsya vse dol'she, a vdohnovenie prihodit vse rezhe, bylo uzhe pozdno. Vord-svorty s trevogoj nablyudali za uhudsheniem zdorov'ya druga i odnovremennym uhudsheniem ego otnoshenij s zhenoj. Doroti pisala v svoem dnevnike, chto Sara "ploho uhazhivaet za Kol'ridzhem, hotya u nee est' neskol'ko velikih dostoinstv. Ee ochen', ochen' zhal', potomu chto esli odin chelovek - nepodhodyashchaya para drugomu, to i tot, drugoj, stol' zhe malo podhodit dlya nego. Sara byla by ochen' horoshej zhenoj dlya mnogih muzhchin, no ne dlya Kol'ridzha!" {Wordsworth, Dorothy. The Alfoxden Journal, 1798. The Grasmere Journal, 1800-1803. London, 1958, p. 245.}. Posle vozvrashcheniya s Mal'ty v avguste 1806 g. Kol'ridzh reshil rasstat'sya s zhenoj: ona vmeste s det'mi nashla priyut v sem'e svoej sestry v dome Sauti, Kol'ridzh zhe podolgu zhil u Vordsvortov, i v spokojnoj atmosfere ih sel'skogo zhilishcha periody ego depressii sokrashchalis', on snizhal dozu opiuma. V 1809 - 1810 gg. on diktoval Sare Hatchinson, chasto gostivshej u sestry, materialy dlya svoego zhurnala "Drug" (vyshlo 28 nomerov), i ona staratel'no perepisyvala ih. Odnako bolezn' ego progressirovala, i k oseni 1810 g. iz obayatel'nogo druga i blestyashchego sobesednika on prevratilsya v kapriznogo i trudnogo v obshchenii cheloveka. Sara Hatchinson sochla za luchshee uehat'. Vskore posle ee ot®ezda proizoshel razryv i v otnosheniyah Vordsvorta i Kol'ridzha. Kak vyyasnili biografy, Vordsvort, vidimo v minutu razdrazheniya, skazal svoemu staromu drugu Bejzilu Montepo, chto Kol'ridzh mnogie gody byl "nastoyashchim mucheniem" dlya ego sem'i, i tot peredal eti slova Kol'ridzhu. Kol'ridzh byl potryasen i tut zhe uehal; cherez dva goda Vordsvort otpravilsya k nemu v London i proizoshlo primirenie, no prezhnie otnosheniya uzhe ne vosstanovilis'. Razryv okazal pechal'noe vliyanie na oboih poetov, atmosfera tvorcheskogo obshcheniya, obmena i vzaimodejstviya byla neobhodima oboim. Bol'shinstvo kritikov soglasny v tom, chto naibolee plodotvornym periodom tvorchestva Vordsvorta bylo desyatiletie, posledovavshee za pervoj publikaciej "Liricheskih ballad". Dvuhtomnyj sbornik "Stihotvorenij" 1807 g. zasluzhenno nazyvayut samym vazhnym poeticheskim sversheniem etogo desyatiletiya. V nego voshli, pomimo uzhe izvestnyh chitatelyu "Liricheskih ballad", mnogie shedevry ego lyubovnoj i pejzazhnoj liriki, zdes' vpervye byli opublikovany samye znamenitye ego sonety. Vordsvort vspominal, chto on ne interesovalsya sonetom, schitaya ego iskusstvennoj formoj, vplot' do 1802 g., kogda sestra prochla emu neskol'ko sonetov Mil'tona. |ti sonety, razrabatyvavshie i lichnye, liricheskie, i obshchestvennye, grazhdanskie motivy, neozhidanno uvlekali ego mnogoobraziem vozmozhnostej, garmoniej i sovershenstvom formy. Po primeru Mil'tona Vordsvort vvel v sonet grazhdanskie i politicheskie motivy: osmyslyaya sovremennye sobytiya evropejskoj istorii, v tom chisle napoleonovskie vojny, on sozdal cikl "Sonetov, posvyashchennyh nacional'noj nezavisimosti i svobode" (Poems Dedicated to National Independence and Liberty, chast' 1 - 1802-1807 gg., chast' II - 1808-1814 gg.). V otlichie ot mnogih drugih romantikov Vordsvort ne idealiziroval Napoleona, a vosprinimal ego kak tipichnyj produkt sovremennoj civilizacii, ugrozu svobode i nravstvennomu zdorov'yu Evropy. Duhovnoj svobode, obretaemoj v edinenii s prirodoj, protivostoit v sonetah Vordsvorta dobrovol'noe, a inogda i neosoznannoe podchinenie sovremennogo cheloveka bezduhovnoj i pogryazshej v styazhatel'stve civilizacii. Sredi sonetov 1810-h godov - mnogie liricheskie shedevry, v kotoryh kak budto navsegda ostanovleny mgnoveniya yarchajshih vpechatlenij i perezhivanij ot obshcheniya s prirodoj, peredany perelivy chuvstv i smeny nastroenij po vozvrashchenii v rodnye kraya, pri vospominanii o mogile dorogogo cheloveka ili vo vremya nochnoj bessonnicy. Ryad sonetov posvyashchen problemam poeticheskogo tvorchestva, i v tom chisle razmyshleniyam o samoj forme soneta ("Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room...", "Scorn not the Sonnet, Critic..."). V zrelye gody im sozdany dva izvestnyh cikla: "Sonety k reke Daddon" (The River Duddon, A Series of Sonnets, 1820) - reke Ozernogo kraya, techenie kotoroj stanovitsya dlya poeta simvolom chelovecheskoj zhizni, prohodyashchej cherez raznye vozrastnye etapy; i "Cerkovnye sonety" (Ecclesiastical Sonnets, 1822) - svoego roda ocherk istorii anglijskoj cerkvi v sonetnoj forme; poslednij cikl otlichaetsya nekotoroj suhovatost'yu i racionalizmom, svojstvennymi pozdnemu Vordsvortu. Za svoyu zhizn' poet sozdal bolee 500 sonetov, sposobstvovav vozrozhdeniyu etoj formy v anglijskoj poezii, ved' posle Mil'tona na protyazhenii XVIII v. k nej obrashchalis' chrezvychajno redko. V 1813 g. Vordsvort, ponimaya, chto poeticheskim tvorchestvom rastushchuyu sem'yu ne prokormit', stal hlopotat' o meste gosudarstvennogo sluzhashchego i poluchil post raspredelitelya gerbovyh sborov grafstva Vestmorlend; v ego obyazannosti vhodilo predostavlenie licenzij, vzimanie nalogov na opredelennye vidy deyatel'nosti i t.p., chto prinosilo okolo 200 funtov v god. Sem'ya pereehala v bolee prostornyj dom po sosedstvu, v Rajdal-Maunt. Doroti pishet svoej podruge: "U nas budet tureckij!!! kover v gostinoj i bryussel'skij - v kabinete Uil'yama. Ty v izumlenii, prostota nashego milogo kottedzha v Taun-|nd vstaet u tebya pered glazami, i tebe hochetsya skazat': "Neuzheli oni izmenilis', oni sobirayutsya zhit' s pretenziyami, ustraivat' vechera, davat' obedy i t.p.?"" {Wordsworth, William and Wordsworth, Dorothy. The Letters of William and Dorothy Wordsworth. The Middle Age. Arranged and edited by Ernest de Selincourt. In 2 vols. Oxford, 1937. Vol. 1, p. 100.}. Izmeneniya dejstvitel'no proishodili. Po rasskazu sovremennikov, "kogda Dzhon Kits priehal k Vordsvortu, emu prishlos' dolgo zhdat', i kogda Vordsvort vyshel k nemu, on byl pri polnom parade, v pantalonah do kolen, shelkovyh chulkah i proch., i ochen' toropilsya, potomu chto sobiralsya obedat' s komissarom po gerbovym sboram" {Cit. po: Manley, Seen. Dorothy and William Wordsworth: the Heart of a Circle of Friends. New York, 1974, p. 185.}. I vse zhe v chinovnika Vordsvort ne prevratilsya i vne svoih administrativnyh obyazannostej ostavalsya tem zhe neprityazatel'nym i skromnym chelovekom, kakim byl ran'she. V 1828 g. on vmeste s docher'yu Doroj i Kol'ridzhem puteshestvoval po doline Rejna v Germanii, gde ih vstretil anglijskij puteshestvennik Tomas Gratton, ostavivshij ih opisanie: Kol'ridzh byl "rostom okolo pyati futov pyati dyujmov, polnyj i lenivyj na vid, no ne tolstyj. On byl odet v chernoe, nosil korotkie bryuki s pugovicami i shnurovkoj u kolen i chernye shelkovye chulki... Ego lico bylo neobychajno krasivo, s vyrazheniem bezmyatezhnym i dobrozhelatel'nym, rot osobenno priyaten, a serye glaza, ne bol'shie i ne navykate, polny umnoj myagkosti. Ego ogromnaya shevelyura absolyutno seda, lob i shcheki bez morshchin, na poslednih viden zdorovyj rumyanec. Vordsvort byl polnoj protivopolozhnost'yu Kol'ridzhu, vysokij, zhilistyj, s krupnoj figuroj i neelegantnogo vida. On byl nebrezhno odet v dlinnyj korichnevyj syurtuk, parusinovye bryuki v polosku, flanelevye getry i tolstye bashmaki. On bol'she napominal fermera s gor, chem ozernogo poeta. Ves' ego vid byl neizyskannyj i neraspolagayushchij. Kazalos', on vpolne dovolen tem, chto ego drug pervenstvuet, i sovershenno ne imel pretenzij, chto ochen' redko vstretish' dazhe v cheloveke znachitel'no men'shej literaturnoj reputacii, chem u nego; a v ego otnoshenii k docheri bylo chto-to nenavyazchivo druzhelyubnoe" {Ibid., pp. 189-190.}. V 1830-e gody Vordsvortu prishlos' perezhit' neskol'ko tyazhelyh utrat. V 1834 g. umerli dva druga: Kol'ridzh i CHarlz Lem. V tom zhe godu sestra Doroti, doch' Dora i Sara Hatchinson zaboleli inflyuencej; Sara umerla, Dora popravilas', no ee zdorov'e s teh por poshatnulos', a u Doroti, kotoraya eshche do bolezni perezhila neskol'ko pristupov pomutneniya soznaniya, nachalos' oslozhnenie na mozg, v rezul'tate kotorogo ona poteryala rassudok i uzhe ne popravilas' do konca zhizni. V 1834 g. umer Sauti, i Vordsvortu byl predlozhen post poeta-laureata, predpolagavshij poeticheskoe osveshchenie vazhnejshih sobytij v zhizni gosudarstva i korolevskoj sem'i. Sauti, po obshchemu priznaniyu, ves'ma dostojno vel sebya na postu poeta-laureata (hotya Bajron byl na etot schet drugogo mneniya), i Vordsvortu bylo ne stydno zanyat' posle nego etot post. Blagodarya etomu Vordsvort neskol'ko raz s®ezdil v London i odnazhdy dazhe byl na korolevskom balu. No edinstvennym ego proizvedeniem oficial'nogo haraktera stala "Oda na vvedenie ego korolevskogo vysochestva princa Al'berta v dolzhnost' kanclera Kembridzhskogo universiteta" 1847 g., k tomu zhe im ne zakonchennaya i dopisannaya ego plemyannikom, episkopom Linkol'nskim. Vordsvort ostalsya do konca zhizni veren sebe i oficial'nym poetom ne stal. Tvorchestvo Vordsvorta poluchilo priznanie nachinaya s 1820-h godov. I hotya ego proizvedeniya nikogda ne byli poeticheskoj sensaciej, bestsellerami svoego vremeni, kak vostochnye poemy Bajrona ili "Lalla Ruk" Tomasa Mura, ego literaturnaya reputaciya neuklonno rosla. V 1830-e gody on uzhe schitalsya krupnejshim anglijskim poetom, a k koncu XIX v. po kolichestvu lyubimyh citat zanimal tret'e mesto sredi anglijskih avtorov, srazu posle SHekspira i Mil'tona. Tema "Vordsvort v Rossii" eshche zhdet svoego issledovatelya. Ego tvorchestvo nikogda ne vyzyvalo takogo shirokogo interesa, kak poeziya Bajrona ili SHelli. Tem ne menee v 1830-e gody poyavlyayutsya pervye stat'i ob Ozernoj shkole v anglijskoj poezii {Pisho, Amadej. Sovremennaya anglijskaya literatura: SHkola tak nazyvaemyh ozernyh poetov (lakists): Vordsvort, Kol'ridzh, Sutej // "Literaturnaya gazeta", 1830. | 58B, s. 175-180, | 59, s. 183-185.}, pervyj perevod I. I. Kozlova ballady "Nas semero" {Vpervye v Sobranii sochinenij Ivana Kozlova. Spb., 1833.}, posle smerti Vordsvorta vyhodit ego nekrolog {ZHurnal ministerstva narodnogo prosveshcheniya, 1850, ch. 67, otd. 7, s. 25-26.}. A. S. Pushkin upominaet Vordsvorta kak poeta, reshitel'no vystupivshego za priblizhenie poeticheskogo yazyka k razgovornoj rechi, sozdaet svoe vol'noe podrazhanie Vordsvortu - "Surovyj Dant ne preziral soneta...". V 1870-e gody poyavlyayutsya prekrasnye perevody D. Mina, a na rubezhe vekov dva stihotvoreniya Vordsvorta perevodit K. D. Bal'mont. Dlya perevodchikov XX v. tvorchestvo Vordsvorta yavlyaetsya klassikoj, ch'e znachenie dlya mirovoj poezii neosporimo. E. Zykova "From "Lyrical Ballads" Iz sbornika "Liricheskie ballady" LINES LEFT UPON A SEAT IN A YEW-TREE WHICH STANDS NEAR THE LAKE OF ESTHWAITE, ON A DESOLATE PART OF THE SHORE, YET COMMANDING A BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT - Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely yew-tree stands Far from all human dwelling: what if here No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb; What if these barren boughs the bee not loves; Yet, if the wind breathe soft, the curling waves, That break against the shore, shall lull thy mind By one soft impulse saved from vacancy. Who he was That piled these stones, and with the mossy sod First covered o'er, and taught this aged tree, Now wild, to bend its arms in circling shade, I well remember. - He was one who own'd No common soul. In youth, by genius nurs'd, And big with lofty views, he to the world Went forth, pure in his heart, against the taint Of dissolute tongues, 'gainst jealousy, and hate, And scorn, against all enemies prepared, All but neglect: and so, his spirit damped At once, with rash disdain he turned away, And with the food of pride sustained his soul In solitude. - Stranger! these gloomy boughs Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit, His only visitants a straggling sheep, The stone-chat, or the glancing sand-piper; And on these barren rocks, with juniper, And heath, and thistle, thinly sprinkled o'er, Fixing his downward eye, he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life: And lifting up his head, he then would gaze On the more distant scene; how lovely 'tis Thou seest, and he would gaze till it became Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain The beauty still more beauteous. Nor, that time, Would he forget those beings, to whose minds, Warm from the labours of benevolence, The world, and man himself, appeared a scene Of kindred loveliness: then he would sigh With mournful joy, to think that others felt What he must never feel: and so, lost man! On visionary views would fancy feed, Till his eye streamed with tears. In this deep vale He died, this seat his only monument. If thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know, that pride, Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt For any living thing, hath faculties Which he has never used; that thought with him Is in its infancy. The man, whose eye Is ever on himself, doth look on one, The least of nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever. O, be wiser thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love, True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart. STROKI, OSTAVLENNYE NA KAMNE V RAZVETVLENII TISOVOGO DEREVA, STOYASHCHEGO NEPODALEKU OT OZERA ISTU|JD V UEDINENNOJ, NO ZHIVOPISNOJ CHASTI POBEREZHXYA Pomedli, putnik! Odinokij tis Zdes' ot zhil'ya lyudskogo otdalen. Kak l'net pchela k nagim ego vetvyam! Kak radostno blestit v trave ruchej! Dohnet zefir - i laskovyj priboj Soznan'e ubayukaet tvoe Dvizhen'em nezhnym, chuzhdym pustote. Ty znaesh', kto Slozhil zdes' kamni, dernom ih pokryl, Kto skryt byl, kak v ob®yatii, - v teni Gustogo dreva, gologo teper'? Dushoyu neobychnoj nadelen, On byl vzrashchen velich'em etih mest, I v yunosti, vysokih myslej poln I serdcem chist, on ustremilsya v mir I byl gotov, kak sobstvennyh vragov, Zlorech'e, zavist', nenavist' razit'. Mir prenebreg im. Duhom on upal, S prezren'em otvernuvshis' oto vseh. Gordynej v odinochestve svoyu Pitaya dushu, on lyubil sidet' Pod etim mrachnym tisom, gde ego Lish' pticy poseshchali da ovca, Otstavshaya ot stada svoego. Po etim dikim skalam, gde rosli Lish' chahlyj veresk i chertopoloh, Bluzhdaya vzorom, dolgie chasy On skorbnoe leleyal torzhestvo, Voobraziv ih simvolom svoej Besplodnoj zhizni. Golovu podnyav, Pejzazh prekrasnyj videl on vdali, Tak rascvetavshij na ego glazah, CHto ot izbytka etoj krasoty Iznemogalo serdce. I togda On vspominal o teh, chej um sogret Teplom velikodush'ya, dlya kogo Soedinyalis' mir i chelovek Kak by v chudesnom dejstve, - on vzdyhal I radovalsya gor'ko, chto drugim Tak chuvstvovat' dano, kak on ne mog. I grezil on, pokuda vzor ego Ne zastilali slezy. Umer on V doline etoj. Pamyatnik emu - Lish' kamen', na kotorom on sidel. I esli, putnik, serdca chistotu Ty s yunyh let sbereg, - zapomni vpred': Nichtozhna gordost', kak ni naryadi Ee v velich'e. Luchshie dary Pogibnut zrya, kol' obladatel' ih Prezren'e k blizhnim chuvstvuet. I tot, CHej vzglyad samim soboj lish' pogloshchen, - Vseh men'she, hudshij iz zhivyh sushchestv. U mudreca on mog by vyzvat' to Prezrenie, chto mudrost'yu samoj Schitaetsya zapretnym. Bud' mudrej! Lish' istinnoe znanie vedet K lyubvi, i tot lish' istinno velik, Kto v tihij chas razdumij i trevog Sebya teryal i obretal sebya V smiren'e serdca... THE FEMALE VAGRANT By Derwent's side my Father's cottage stood, (The Woman thus her artless story told) One field, a flock, and what the neighbouring flood Supplied, to him were more than mines of gold. Light was my sleep; my days in transport roll'd: With thoughtless joy I stretch'd along the shore My father's nets, or watched, when from the fold High o'er the cliffs I led my fleecy store, A dizzy depth below! his boat and twinkling oar. My father was a good and pious man, An honest man by honest parents bred, And I believe that, soon as I began To lisp, he made me kneel beside my bed, And in his hearing there my prayers I said: And afterwards, by my good father taught, I read, and loved the books in which I read; For books in every neighbouring house I sought, And nothing to my mind a sweeter pleasure brought. Can I forget what charms did once adorn My garden, stored with pease, and mint, and thyme, And rose and lilly for the sabbath morn? The sabbath bells, and their delightful chime; The gambols and wild freaks at shearing time; My hen's rich nest through long grass scarce espied; The cowslip-gathering at May's dewy prime; The swans, that, when I sought the water-side, From far to meet me came, spreading their snowy pride. The staff I yet remember which upbore The bending body of my active sire; His seat beneath the honeyed sycamore When the bees hummed, and chair by winter fire; When market-morning came, the neat attire With which, though bent on haste, myself I deck'd; My watchful dog, whose starts of furious ire, When stranger passed, so often I have check'd; The red-breast known for years, which at my casement peck'd. The suns of twenty summers danced along, - Ah! little marked, how fast they rolled away: Then rose a mansion proud our woods among, And cottage after cottage owned its sway, No joy to see a neighbouring house, or stray Through pastures not his own, the master took; My Father dared his greedy wish gainsay; He loved his old hereditary nook, And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook. But, when he had refused the proffered gold, To cruel injuries he became a prey, Sore traversed in whate'er he bought and sold. His troubles grew upon him day by day, Till all his substance fell into decay. His little range of water was denied; All but the bed where his old body lay, All, all was seized, and weeping, side by side, We sought a home where we uninjured might abide. Can I forget that miserable hour, When from the last hill-top, my sire surveyed, Peering above the trees, the steeple tower, That on his marriage-day sweet music made? Till then he hoped his bones might there be laid, Close by my mother in their native bowers: Bidding me trust in God, he stood and prayed, - I could not pray: - through tears that fell in showers, Glimmer'd our dear-loved home, alas! no longer ours! There was a youth whom I had loved so long, That when I loved him not I cannot say. 'Mid the green mountains many and many a song We two had sung, like little birds in May. When we began to tire of childish play We seemed still more and more to prize each other: We talked of marriage and our marriage day; And I in truth did love him like a brother, For never could I hope to meet with such another. His father said, that to a distant town He must repair, to ply the artist's trade. What tears of bitter grief till then unknown! What tender vows our last sad kiss delayed! To him we turned:-we had no other aid. Like one revived, upon his neck I wept, And her whom he had loved in joy, he said He well could love in grief: his faith he kept; And in a quiet home once more my father slept. Four years each day with daily bread was blest, By constant toil and constant prayer supplied. Three lovely infants lay upon my breast; And often, viewing their sweet smiles, I sighed, And knew not why. My happy father died When sad distress reduced the children's meal: Thrice happy! that from him the grave did hide The empty loom, cold hearth, and silent wheel, And tears that flowed for ills which patience could not heal. 'Twas a hard change, an evil time was come; We had no hope, and no relief could gain. But soon, with proud parade, the noisy drum Beat round, to sweep the streets of want and pain. My husband's arms now only served to strain Me and his children hungering in his view: In such dismay my prayers and tears were vain: To join those miserable men he flew; And now to the sea-coast, with numbers more, we drew. There foul neglect for months and months we bore, Nor yet the crowded fleet its anchor stirred. Green fields before us and our native shore, By fever, from polluted air incurred, Ravage was made, for which no knell was heard. Fondly we wished, and wished away, nor knew, 'Mid that long sickness, and those hopes deferr'd, That happier days we never more must view: The parting signal streamed, at last the land withdrew, But from delay the summer calms were past. On as we drove, the equinoctial deep Ran mountains-high before the howling blast. We gazed with terror on the gloomy sleep Of them that perished in the whirlwind's sweep, Untaught that soon such anguish must ensue, Our hopes such harvest of affliction reap, That we the mercy of the waves should rue. We reached the western world, a poor, devoted crew. Oh! dreadful price of being to resign All that is dear in being! better far In Want's most lonely cave till death to pine, Unseen, unheard, unwatched by any star; Or in the streets and walks where proud men are, Better our dying bodies to obtrude, Than dog-like, wading at the heels of war, Protract a curst existence, with the brood That lap (their very nourishment!) their brother's blood. The pains and plagues that on our heads came down, Disease and famine, agony and fear, In wood or wilderness, in camp or town, It would thy brain unsettle even to hear. All perished-all, in one remorseless year, Husband and children! one by one, by sword And ravenous plague, all perished: every tear Dried up, despairing, desolate, on board A British ship I waked, as from a trance restored. Peaceful as some immeasurable plain By the first beams of dawning light impress'd, In the calm sunshine slept the glittering main. The very ocean has its hour of rest, That comes not to the human mourner's breast. Remote from man, and storms of mortal care, A heavenly silence did the waves invest; I looked and looked along the silent air, Until it seemed to bring a joy to my despair. Ah! how unlike those late terrific sleeps! And groans, that rage of racking famine spoke, Where looks inhuman dwelt on festering heaps! The breathing pestilence that rose like smoke! The shriek that from the distant battle broke! The mine's dire earthquake, and the pallid host Driven by the bomb's incessant thunder-stroke To loathsome vaults, where heart-sick anguish toss'd, Hope died, and fear itself in agony was lost! Yet does that burst of woe congeal my frame, When the dark streets appeared to heave and gape, While like a sea the storming army came, And Fire from Hell reared his gigantic shape, And Murder, by the ghastly gleam, and Rape Seized their joint prey, the mother and the child! But from these crazing thoughts my brain, escape! - For weeks the balmy air breathed soft and mild, And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled. Some mighty gulf of separation past, I seemed transported to another world:- A thought resigned with pain, when from the mast The impatient mariner the sail unfurl'd, And whistling, called the wind that hardly curled The silent sea. From the sweet thoughts of home, And from all hope I was forever hurled. For me-farthest from earthly port to roam Was best, could I but shun the spot where man might come. And oft, robb'd of my perfect mind, I thought At last my feet a resting-place had found: Here will I weep in peace, (so fancy wrought,) Roaming the illimitable waters round; Here watch, of every human friend disowned, All day, my ready tomb the ocean-flood - To break my dream the vessel reached its bound: And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined, and wanted food. By grief enfeebled was I turned adrift, Helpless as sailor cast on desert rock; Nor morsel to my mouth that day did lift, Nor dared my hand at any door to k