Конечно, не найдется почти ни одного человека, который был бы совершенно равнодушен к так называемым кра..
Как меняется человек! Он, Билли Байрн, собирается обратиться к закону и к его служителям! Все его детство, вся его молодость были сплошной борьбой с гнетом общественного строя...
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Бене Стивен Винсент
My love jerked at the bridle rein; The black mare, dying, broke her heart In one swift gallop; for my part I dozed; and ever in my brain, Four hoofs of fire beat out refrain, A dirge to light us down to death, A silly rhyme that saith and saith, "From Belton Castle to Solway side, Though great hearts break, is three days' ride!" The black mare staggered, reeled and fell, Bearing my love down . . . a great bell Began to toll . . . and sudden fire Flared at me from the road, a pyre It seemed, to burn our bodies in . . . And I fell down, far down, within The pit's mouth . . . and my brain went blind. . . .
I woke--a cold sun rose behind Black evil hills--my love knelt near Beside a stream, her golden hair Streaming across the grass--below The Solway eddied to and fro, White with fierce whirlpools . . . my love turned. . . . Thank God, some hours of joy are burned Into the mind, and will remain, Fierce-blazing still, in spite of pain!
They came behind us as we kissed, Stealthily from the dripping mist, Her brothers and their evil band. They bound me fast and made me stand. They forced her down upon her knees. She did not strive or cry or call, But knelt there dumb before them all-- I could not turn away my eyes-- There was no fear upon her face, Although they slew her in that place. The daggers rent and tore her breast Like dogs that snarl above a kill, Her proud face gazed above them still, Seeking rest--Oh, seeking rest! The blood swept like a crimson dress Over her bosom's nakedness, A curtain for her weary eyes, A muffling-cloth to stop her sighs . . .
And she was gone--and a red thing lay Silent on the trampled clay.
Beneath my horse my feet are bound, My hands are bound behind my back, I feel the sinews start to crack-- And ever to the hoof-beats' sound, As we draw near the gallows-tree, Where I shall hang right speedily, A crazy tune rings in my brain, Four hoofs of fire tramp the refrain, Crashing clear o'er the roaring crowd, Steadily galloping, strong and loud, "From Belton Castle to Solway side, Hard by the bridge, is three days' ride!"