The Essential Henry David Thoreau (Illustrated Collection of the Thoreau's Greatest Works). Генри Дэвид Торо

and tyrant of all.

       Cythere has sold me

       For one little song,

       And I'm doing this service

       For Anacreon.

       And now, as you see,

       I bear letters from him.

       And he says that directly

       He'll make me free,

       But though he release me,

       His slave I will tarry with him.

       For why should I fly

       Over mountains and fields,

       And perch upon trees,

       Eating some wild thing?

       Now indeed I eat bread,

       Plucking it from the hands

       Of Anacreon himself;

       And he gives me to drink

       The wine which he tastes,

       And drinking, I dance,

       And shadow my master's

       Face with my wings;

       And, going to rest,

       On the lyre itself I sleep.

       That is all; get thee gone.

       Thou hast made me more talkative,

       Man, than a crow.

      ON LOVE.

      Love walking swiftly,

       With hyacinthine staff,

       Bade me to take a run with him;

       And hastening through swift torrents,

       And woody places, and over precipices,

       A water-snake stung me.

       And my heart leaped up to

       My mouth, and I should have fainted;

       But Love fanning my brows

       With his soft wings, said,

       Surely, thou art not able to love.

      ON WOMEN.

      Nature has given horns

       To bulls, and hoofs to horses,

       Swiftness to hares,

       To lions yawning teeth,

       To fishes swimming,

       To birds flight,

       To men wisdom.

       For woman she had nothing beside;

       What then does she give? Beauty,—

       Instead of all sheilds,

       Instead of all spears;

       And she conquers even iron

       And fire, who is beautiful.

      ON LOVERS.

      Horses have the mark

       Of fire on their sides,

       And some have distinguished

       The Parthian men by their crests;

       So I, seeing lovers,

       Know them at once,

       For they have a certain slight

       Brand on their hearts.

      TO A SWALLOW.

      What dost thou wish me to do to thee,—

       What, thou loquacious swallow?

       Dost thou wish me taking thee

       Thy light pinions to clip?

       Or rather to pluck out

       Thy tongue from within,

       As that Tereus did?

       Why with thy notes in the dawn

       Hast thou plundered Bathyllus

       From my beautiful dreams?

      TO A COLT.

      Thracian colt, why at me

       Looking aslant with thy eyes,

       Dost thou cruelly flee,

       And think that I know nothing wise?

       Know I could well

       Put the bridle on thee,

       And holding the reins, turn

       Round the bounds of the course.

       But now thou browsest the meads,

       And gambolling lightly dost play,

       For thou hast no skilful horseman

       Mounted upon thy back.

      CUPID WOUNDED.

      Love once among roses

       Saw not

       A sleeping bee, but was stung;

       And being wounded in the finger

       Of his hand, cried for pain.

       Running as well as flying

       To the beautiful Venus,

       I am killed, mother, said he,

       I am killed, and I die.

       A little serpent has stung me,

       Winged, which they call

       A bee,—the husbandmen.

       And she said, If the sting

       Of a bee afflicts you,

       How, think you, are they afflicted,

       Love, whom you smite?

      Late in the afternoon, for we had lingered long on the island, we raised our sail for the first time, and for a short hour the southwest wind was our ally; but it did not please Heaven to abet us along. With one sail raised we swept slowly up the eastern side of the stream, steering clear of the rocks, while, from the top of a hill which formed the opposite bank, some lumberers were rolling down timber to be rafted down the stream. We could see their axes and levers gleaming in the sun, and the logs came down with a dust and a rumbling sound, which was reverberated through the woods beyond us on our side, like the roar of artillery. But Zephyr soon took us out of sight and hearing of this commerce. Having passed Read's Ferry, and another island called McGaw's Island, we reached some rapids called Moore's Falls, and entered on "that section of the river, nine miles in extent, converted, by law, into the Union Canal, comprehending in that space six distinct falls; at each of which, and at several intermediate places, work has been done." After passing Moore's Falls by means of locks, we again had recourse to our oars, and went merrily on our way, driving the small sandpiper from rock to rock before us, and sometimes rowing near enough to a cottage on the bank, though they were few and far between, to see the sunflowers, and the seed vessels of the poppy, like small goblets filled with the water of Lethe, before the door, but without disturbing the sluggish household behind. Thus we held on, sailing or dipping our way along with the paddle up this broad river, smooth and placid, flowing over concealed rocks, where we could see the pickerel lying low in the transparent water, eager to double some distant cape, to make some great bend as in the life of man, and see what new perspective would open; looking far into a new country, broad and serene, the cottages of settlers seen afar for the first time, yet with the moss of a century on their roofs, and the third or fourth generation in their shadows. Strange was it to consider how the sun and the summer, the buds of spring and the seared leaves of autumn, were related to these cabins along the shore; how all the rays which paint the landscape radiate from them, and the flight of the crow and the gyrations of the hawk have reference to their roofs. Still the ever rich and fertile shores accompanied us, fringed with vines and alive with small birds and frisking squirrels, the edge of some farmer's field or widow's wood-lot, or wilder,