b_a_n_s_h_e_e (b_a_n_s_h_e_e) wrote,

  • Music:

Babes in the Wood

Это, конечно, жесткая жесть, но зато в духе святочных рассказов про замерзающих детишек. Недавно мне попалась баллада про Babes in the Wood, которую я и привожу под катом. История стара как мир - жил был отец с двумя детьми, мальчиком и девочкой. Мальчику было три года, девочке того меньше. Отец заболел и перед смертью попросил брата позаботиться о племянниках. Но искушение заключалось в том, что отец оставил детям наследство, которое в случае их смерти перешло бы брату. Тогда брат, не угрызаясь совестью, нанял двух разбойников, чтобы те избавились от детей. Разбойники завезли ребятишек в лес, но рука у них не поднялась, поэтому они просто оставили брата и сестру там. И как вы думаете, может быть, какие-нибудь эльфы или гномы подобрали детишек? Нет, реализм восторжествовал, и дети, обнявшись, умерли той же ночью. А малиновки прилетели и укрыли их тела листьями. Дяде после такого поступка тоже жилось невесело, он потерял родных сыновей, разорился и пошел по миру. Но детей, увы, не вернешь. Такая печальная история.

Под катом текст и иллюстрации

Now ponder well, you parents dear,
These words which I shall write;
A doleful story you shall hear,
In time brought forth to light.
A gentleman of good account,
In Norfolk dwelt of late,
Who did in honour far surmount
Most men of his estate.

Sore sick he was and like to die,
No help his life could save;
His wife by him as sick did lie,
And both possest one grave.
No love between these two was lost,
Each was to other kind;
In love they lived, in love they died,
And left two babes behind.

The one a fine and pretty boy
Not passing three years old,
The other a girl more young than he,
And framed in beauty's mould.
The father left his little son,
As plainly did appear,
When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundred pounds a year;

And to his little daughter Jane
Five hundred pounds in gold,
To be paid down on marriage-day,
Which might not be controlled.
But if the children chanced to die
Ere they to age should come,
Their uncle should possess their wealth;
For so the will did run.

'Now, brother,' said the dying man,
'Look to my children dear;
Be good unto my boy and girl,
No friends else have they here;
To God and you I recommend
My children dear this day;
But little while be sure we have
Within this world to stay.

'You must be father and mother both,
And uncle, all in one;
God knows what will become of them
When I am dead and gone.'
With that bespake their mother dear;
'O brother kind,' quoth she,
'You are the man must bring our babes
To wealth or misery.

'And if you keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward;
But if you otherwise should deal,
God will your deeds regard.'
With lips as cold as any stone,
They kissed their children small:
'God bless you both, my children dear!'
With that the tears did fall.

These speeches then their brother spake
To this sick couple there:
'The keeping of your little ones,
Sweet sister, do not fear;
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children dear
When you are laid in grave!'

The parents being dead and gone,
The children home he takes,
And brings them straight unto his house
Where much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day,
But, for their wealth, he did devise
To make them both away.

He bargained with two ruffians strong,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take these children young,
And slay them in a wood.
He told his wife an artful tale
He would the children send
To be brought up in London town
With one that was his friend.

Away then went those pretty babes,
Rejoicing at that tide,
Rejoicing with a merry mind
They should on cock-horse ride.
They prate and prattle pleasantly,
As they ride on the way,
To those that should their butchers be
And work their lives' decay:

So that the pretty speech they had
Made Murder's heart relent;
And they that undertook the deed
Full sore now did repent.
Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
Did vow to do his charge,
Because the wretch that hired him
Had paid him very large.

The other won't agree thereto,
So there they fall to strife;
With one another they did fight
About the children's life;
And he that was of mildest mood
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood;
The babes did quake for fear!

He took the children by the hand,
Tears standing in their eye,
And bade them straightway follow him,
And look they did not cry;
And two long miles he led them on,
While they for food complain:
'Stay here,' quoth he, 'I'll bring you bread,
When I come back again.'

These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and down;
But never more could see the man
Approaching from the town.
Their pretty lips from blackberries
Were all besmeared and dyed;
And when they saw the darksome night,
They sat them down and cried.

Thus wandered these poor innocents,
Till death did end their grief;
In one another's arms they died,
As wanting due relief:
No burial this pretty pair
From any man receives,
Till Robin Redbreast piously
Did cover them with leaves.

And now the heavy wrath of God
Upon their uncle fell;
Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house,
His conscience felt an hell:
His barns were fired, his goods consumed,
His hands were barren made,
His cattle died within the field,
And nothing with him stayed.

And in a voyage to Portugal
Two of his sons did die;
And to conclude, himself was brought
To want and misery:
He pawned and mortgaged all his land
Ere seven years came about.
And now at last this wicked act
Did by this means come out.

The fellow that did take in hand
These children for to kill,
Was for a robbery judged to die.
Such was God's blessed will:
Who did confess the very truth,
As here hath been displayed:
The uncle having died in jail,
Where he for debt was laid.

You that executors be made,
And overseers eke,
Of children that be fatherless,
And infants mild and meek,
Take you example by this thing,
And yield to each his right,
Lest God with suchlike misery
Your wicked minds requite.

А вот еще одно стихотворение на эту же тему

My dear, do you know how, a long time ago,
Two poor little children, whose names I don’t know,
Were stolen away on a bright summer day
And lost in the woods, I’ve heard people say.

And when it was night, how sad was their plight.
The sun, it went down, and the moon gave no light.
They sobbed and they sighed, together they cried,
‘Til the poor little things, they lay down and died.

And when they were dead, the robin so red
Brought strawberry leaves and over them spread,
And all the day long, he sang them this song:
“Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood.”

Tags: ballad, children
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Я как раз перевел рассказ Джона Краули "Lost and Abandoned" - современная американская версия "Гензеля и Гретель".
Не читала такой рассказ, но обязательно поищу. А ведьма там упоминается?
Именно что упоминается. Рассказ написан от имени современного учителя, который пытается осмыслить свою жизнь с помощью образов сказки.