Sir Walter Scott

THE FIRE KING Bold knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear, And you haply may sigh in the midst of your glee At the tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie. O see you that castle, so strong and so high? And see you that lady, the tear in her eye? And see you that palmer, from Palestines land, The shell on his hat, and that staff in his hand? --Now palmer, grey palmer, O tell unto me What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie; And how goes the warfare by Gallilees strand, And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?

--O well goes the warfare by Gallilees wave, For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have, And well fare our nobles by Mount Libanon, For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won. A rich chain of gold mid her ringlets there hung; That Chain oer the palmers grey locks has she flung; Oh! palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee, For the news thou hast brought from the East Countrie. And palmer, good palmer, by Gallilees wave, O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave? When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cross rushd on, O saw ye him foremost on Mount Libanon? --O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows, O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows, Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high, But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die. The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls, It leaves of your castle but Levin-scorched walls, The pure stream runs muddy, the gay hope is gone, Count Albert is taken on Mount Libanon.

O shes taen a horse should be fleet at her speed, And shes taen a sword should be sharp at her need, And she has taen shipping for Palestines land, To ransom Count Albert from Soldanries hand. Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie, Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood had he; A heathenish damsel his light heart had won, The Soldans fair daughter of Mount Libanon. --Oh! Christian, brave Christian, my love wouldst thou be? Three things must thou do ere I hearken to thee Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take, And this thou shalt do first for Zulemas sake. And next in the cavern, where burns evermore The mystical flame which the Curdmans adore, Alone and in silence three nights shall thou wake, And this thou shalt next do for Zulemas sake. And last, thou shalt aid us with council and hand, To drive the Frank robbers from Palestines land; For my lord and my love then Count Albert Ill take, When all this is accomplishd for Zulemas sake.

He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled sword, Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord; He has taen the green caftan, and turban put on, For the love of the maiden of fair Libanon. And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground, Which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround, He has watchd until day break, but sight saw he none, Save the flame burning bright on its altar of stone. Amazed was the princess, the Soldan amazed, Sore murmurd the priests as on Albert they gazed; They searchd all his garments, and under his weeds, They found, and took from him, his rosary beads. Again in the cavern, deep deep under ground, He watchd the lone night, while the winds whistled round; Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh, The flame burnd unmoved, and nought else did he spy. Lord murmurd the priests, and amazed was the king, While many dark spells of their witchcraft they sing; They searchd Alberts body, and lo! on his breast Was the sign of the Cross, by his father impressd.

The priests they eraze it with care and with pain, And the recreant returnd to the cavern again; But as he descended a whisper there fell! --It was his good angel, who bade him farewell! High bristled his hair, his heart flutterd and beat, And he turnd him five steps, half resolved to retreat; But his heart it was hardend, his purpose was gone, When he thought of the maiden of fair Libanon. Scarce passd he the archway, the threshold scarce trod, When the winds from the four points of heaven were abroad; They made each steel portal to rattle and ring, And, borne on the blast, came the dread Fire-King. Full sore rockd the cavern wheneer he drew nigh, The fire on the altar blazed blickering and high; In volcanic explosions the mountains proclaim The dreadful approach of the Monarch of Flame. Unmeasured in height, undistinguishd in form, His breath it was lightning, his voice it was a storm, I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame, When he saw in his terrors the Monarch of Flame.

In his hand a broad faulchion blue-glimmerd through smoke, And Mount Libanon shook as the Monarch he spoke;-- --With this brand shalt thou conquer, thus long, and no more, Till thou bend to the Cross, and the Virgin adore.-- The cloud-shrouded arm gives the weapon – and see! The recreant receives the charms gift on his knee. The thunders growl distant, and faint gleam the fires As, born on his whirlwind, the phantom retires. Count Albert has armd him the Paynim among, Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong; And the Red-cross waxd faint, and the Crescent came on, From the day he commanded on Mount Libanon. From Libanons forests to Gallilees wave, The sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave, Till the Knights of the Temple, and the Knights of Saint John, With Salems King Baldwin, against him came on. The war-cymbals clatterd, the trumpets replied, The lances were couchd, and they closed on each side; And horsemen and horses Count Albert oerthrew, Till he pierced the thick tumult King Baldwin unto.

Against the charmd blade which Count Albert did wield, The fence had been vain of the Kings Red-cross shield; But a page thrust him forward the monarch before, And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore. So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoopd low Before the crossd shield, to his steel saddle-bow; And scarce had he bent to the Red-cross his head -- Bonne grace, notre Dame,he unwittingly said. Sore sighd the charms sword, for its virtue was oer, It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more; But true men have said, that the lightnings red wing Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King. He clenchd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand, He stretchd with one buffet that page on the strand; As back from the strippling the broken casque rolld, You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold! Short time had Count Albert in horror to stare On those death-swimming eye-balls and blood-clotted hair, For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood, And dyed their long lances in Saracen in blood.

The Saracens, Curdmans, and Ishmaelites yield To the scallop, the saltier, and crosletted shield, And the eagles were gorged with the infidel dead From Bethsaidas fountains to Naphthalis head. The battle is over on Bethsaidas plain Oh! who is yon Paynim lies stretchd mid the slain? And who is yon page lying cold at his knee? Oh! who but Count Albert and fair Rosalie. The lady was buried in Salems blessd bound, The Count left to the vulture and hound; Her soul to high mercy our lady did bring, His went on the blast to the dread Fire-King. Yet many a minstrel in harping can tell How the Red-cross it conquerd, the Crescent it fell; And lords and gay ladies have sighd, mid their glee, At the Tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie.

THE FIRE KING Перевод В.П.Бетаки Bold knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear, And you haply may sigh in the midst of your glee At the tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie. O see you that castle, so strong and so high? And see you that lady, the tear in her eye? And see you that palmer, from Palestines land, The shell on his hat, and that staff in his hand? --Now palmer, grey palmer, O tell unto me What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie; And how goes the warfare by Gallilees strand, And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land? Внемлите, о дамы и рыцари, мне. Вам арфа споет о любви и войне, Чтоб грустные струны до вас донесли Преданье об Элберте и Розали. Вот замок в горах на утесе крутом, И с посохом длинным стоит под окном В плаще пропыленном седой пилигрим. Прекрасная леди в слезах перед ним. "Скажи мне, скажи мне, о странник седой, Давно ли ты был в Палестине святой? Какие ты вести принес нам с войны? Что рыцари наши, цвет нашей страны?"

--O well goes the warfare by Gallilees wave, For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have, And well fare our nobles by Mount Libanon, For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won. A rich chain of gold mid her ringlets there hung; That Chain oer the palmers grey locks has she flung; Oh! palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee, For the news thou hast brought from the East Countrie. And palmer, good palmer, by Gallilees wave, O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave? When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cross rushd on, O saw ye him foremost on Mount Libanon? --O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows, O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows, Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high, But lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die. The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls, It leaves of your castle but Levin-scorched walls, The pure stream runs muddy, the gay hope is gone, Count Albert is taken on Mount Libanon. "Земля галилейская в наших руках, А рыцари бьются в ливанских горах. Султан навсегда Галаад потерял. Померк полумесяц, и крест воссиял!" Она золотую цепочку сняла, Она пилигриму ее отдала: "Возьми же, возьми же, о странник седой, За добрые вести о битве святой. Возьми и скажи мне, седой пилигрим, Где славный граф Элберт? Встречался ты с ним? Наверно, он первым в ту битву вступал, Где пал полумесяц и крест воссиял?" "О леди, дуб зелен, покуда растет; Ручей так прозрачен, покуда течет. Ваш замок незыблем и горды мечты, Но, леди, все бренно, все вянут цветы! Иссушат морозы листву на ветвях, И молния стены повергнет во прах, Ручей замутится, поблекнет мечта... В плену у султана защитник креста".

O shes taen a horse should be fleet at her speed, And shes taen a sword should be sharp at her need, And she has taen shipping for Palestines land, To ransom Count Albert from Soldanries hand. Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie, Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood had he; A heathenish damsel his light heart had won, The Soldans fair daughter of Mount Libanon. --Oh! Christian, brave Christian, my love wouldst thou be? Three things must thou do ere I hearken to thee Our laws and our worship on thee shalt thou take, And this thou shalt do first for Zulemas sake. And next in the cavern, where burns evermore The mystical flame which the Curdmans adore, Alone and in silence three nights shall thou wake, And this thou shalt next do for Zulemas sake. And last, thou shalt aid us with council and hand, To drive the Frank robbers from Palestines land; For my lord and my love then Count Albert Ill take, When all this is accomplishd for Zulemas sake. Красавица скачет на быстром коне, (С ней меч - он сгодится во вражьей cтране), Плывет на галере сквозь шторм и туман, Чтоб выкупить Элберта у мусульман. А ветреный рыцарь не думал о ней, Не думал он даже о чести своей: Прекрасной язычницей Элберт пленен, Влюблен в дочь султана ливанского он. "О рыцарь, мой рыцарь, ты жаждешь любви? Так прежде исполни три просьбы мои. Прими нашу веру, забудь о своей - Вот первая просьба Зулеймы твоей. В святилище курдов над вечным огнем Три ночи на страже во мраке глухом Безмолвно простой у железных дверей - Вот просьба вторая Зулеймы твоей. Чтоб грабить страну перестали враги, Мечом и советом ты нам помоги Всех франков изгнать из отчизны моей - Вот третье желанье Зулеймы твоей".

He has thrown by his helmet and cross-handled sword, Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord; He has taen the green caftan, and turban put on, For the love of the maiden of fair Libanon. And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground, Which fifty steel gates and steel portals surround, He has watchd until day break, but sight saw he none, Save the flame burning bright on its altar of stone. Amazed was the princess, the Soldan amazed, Sore murmurd the priests as on Albert they gazed; They searchd all his garments, and under his weeds, They found, and took from him, his rosary beads. Again in the cavern, deep deep under ground, He watchd the lone night, while the winds whistled round; Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh, The flame burnd unmoved, and nought else did he spy. Lord murmurd the priests, and amazed was the king, While many dark spells of their witchcraft they sing; They searchd Alberts body, and lo! on his breast Was the sign of the Cross, by his father impressd. Отрекся от рыцарства он и Христа, Снял меч с рукояткою в виде креста, Надел он тюрбан и зеленый кафтан Для той, чьей красою гордится Ливан. И вот он в пещере, где ночи черней Стальные порталы несчетных дверей. И ждал он, пока не настала заря, Но видел лишь вечный огонь алтаря. В смятенье царевна, в смятенье султан, Жрецы раздраженные чуют обман. С молитвами графа они увели - И четки на нем под одеждой нашли. Он снова в пещере, во мраке немом. Вдруг ветер завыл за дверями кругом, Провыл и умолк, и не слышно его, А пламя недвижно, и нет никого. Над графом опять заклинанья творят, Его обыскали от шеи до пят, И вот на груди перед взором жреца Крест, выжженный в детстве рукою отца.

The priests they eraze it with care and with pain, And the recreant returnd to the cavern again; But as he descended a whisper there fell! --It was his good angel, who bade him farewell! High bristled his hair, his heart flutterd and beat, And he turnd him five steps, half resolved to retreat; But his heart it was hardend, his purpose was gone, When he thought of the maiden of fair Libanon. Scarce passd he the archway, the threshold scarce trod, When the winds from the four points of heaven were abroad; They made each steel portal to rattle and ring, And, borne on the blast, came the dread Fire-King. Full sore rockd the cavern wheneer he drew nigh, The fire on the altar blazed blickering and high; In volcanic explosions the mountains proclaim The dreadful approach of the Monarch of Flame. Unmeasured in height, undistinguishd in form, His breath it was lightning, his voice it was a storm, I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame, When he saw in his terrors the Monarch of Flame. И стали жрецы этот крест вытравлять, А в полночь отступник в пещере опять. Вдруг шепот он слышит над ухом своим - То ангел-хранитель прощается с ним. Колеблется граф - не уйти ли назад? И волосы дыбом, и руки дрожат. Но дерзкой гордыней он вновь обуян: Он вспомнил о той, кем гордится Ливан. И только сошел он под своды, как вдруг Все ветры небес загудели вокруг, Все двери раскрылись, гремя и звеня, И в вихре явился Владыка Огня. И все затряслось, застонало кругом, И пламя над камнем взметнулось столбом, И алая лава вскипела, горя, Приветствуя громом явленье Царя. Сплетенный из молний в тумане седом, Был сам он - как туча, а голос - как гром, И гордый граф Элберт, колени склоня, Со страхом взирал на Владыку Огня.

In his hand a broad faulchion blue-glimmerd through smoke, And Mount Libanon shook as the Monarch he spoke;-- --With this brand shalt thou conquer, thus long, and no more, Till thou bend to the Cross, and the Virgin adore.-- The cloud-shrouded arm gives the weapon – and see! The recreant receives the charms gift on his knee. The thunders growl distant, and faint gleam the fires As, born on his whirlwind, the phantom retires. Count Albert has armd him the Paynim among, Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong; And the Red-cross waxd faint, and the Crescent came on, From the day he commanded on Mount Libanon. From Libanons forests to Gallilees wave, The sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave, Till the Knights of the Temple, and the Knights of Saint John, With Salems King Baldwin, against him came on. The war-cymbals clatterd, the trumpets replied, The lances were couchd, and they closed on each side; And horsemen and horses Count Albert oerthrew, Till he pierced the thick tumult King Baldwin unto. И меч, полыхавший в лиловом дыму, Ужасный Царь Пламени подал ему: "Ты всех побеждать будешь этим мечом, Доколь не склонишься пред девой с крестом". Волшебный подарок отступник берет, Дрожа и с колен не вставая. Но вот Раскаты утихли, огонь задрожал, И в вихре крутящемся призрак пропал. Хоть сердце исполнено лжи, но рука, Как прежде, у графа верна и крепка: Дрожат христиане, ликует Ливан, С тех пор как ведет он полки мусульман. От волн галилейских до горных лесов Песок самарийский пил кровь храбрецов, Пока не привел тамплиеров в Ливан Король Болдуин, чтоб разбить мусульман. Литавры гремят, и труба им в ответ, А копья скрестились и застили свет, Но путь себе граф прорубает мечом - Он жаждет сразиться с самим королем.

Against the charmd blade which Count Albert did wield, The fence had been vain of the Kings Red-cross shield; But a page thrust him forward the monarch before, And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore. So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoopd low Before the crossd shield, to his steel saddle-bow; And scarce had he bent to the Red-cross his head -- Bonne grace, notre Dame,he unwittingly said. Sore sighd the charms sword, for its virtue was oer, It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more; But true men have said, that the lightnings red wing Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King. He clenchd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand, He stretchd with one buffet that page on the strand; As back from the strippling the broken casque rolld, You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold! Short time had Count Albert in horror to stare On those death-swimming eye-balls and blood-clotted hair, For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood, And dyed their long lances in Saracen in blood. Едва ли теперь короля оградит Его крестоносный испытанный щит. Но тут налетел на отступника паж, Тюрбан разрубил, перерезал плюмаж. И граф покачнулся в седле золотом, Склонясь головой перед вражьим щитом, И только тюрбаном коснулся креста, "Bonne grace, Notre Dame!" - прошептали уста. И страшные чары окончились вдруг: Меч вылетел у ренегата из рук, И молнии алой сверкнули крыла - К Владыке Огня она меч унесла. Железный кулак ударяет в висок, И замертво падает паж на песок, И шлем серебристый разбит пополам, И смотрит граф Элберт, не веря глазам. Упала волна золотистых кудрей... Недолго стоял он, склонившись над ней: Летят тамплиеры по склонам долин, Окрашены копья в крови сарацин.

The Saracens, Curdmans, and Ishmaelites yield To the scallop, the saltier, and crosletted shield, And the eagles were gorged with the infidel dead From Bethsaidas fountains to Naphthalis head. The battle is over on Bethsaidas plain Oh! who is yon Paynim lies stretchd mid the slain? And who is yon page lying cold at his knee? Oh! who but Count Albert and fair Rosalie. The lady was buried in Salems blessd bound, The Count left to the vulture and hound; Her soul to high mercy our lady did bring, His went on the blast to the dread Fire-King. Yet many a minstrel in harping can tell How the Red-cross it conquerd, the Crescent it fell; And lords and gay ladies have sighd, mid their glee, At the Tale of Count Albert and fair Rosalie. Бегут сарацины, и курды бегут, Мечи крестоносцев им гибель несут, И коршунов пища кровавая ждет От дальних холмов до солимских ворот. Кто в белом тюрбане лежит недвижим? И кто этот паж, что простерт перед ним? Не встать никогда им с холодной земли. То мертвый граф Элберт и с ним Розали. Ее погребли под солимской стеной, А графа отпел лишь стервятник степной. Душа ее в небе близ Девы парит, А грешник в огне негасимом горит. Поныне поют менестрели о том, Как был полумесяц повержен крестом, Чтоб дамы и рыцари вспомнить могли Преданье об Элберте и Розали.