Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах

Great monarch of the world, from whose power springs

The potency and power of kings,

Record the royal woe my suffering sings;

And teach my tongue, that ever did confine

Its faculties in truth’s seraphik line,

To track the treasons of thy foes and mine.

Nature and law, by thy divine decree,

(The only root of righteous royaltie)

With this dim diadem invested me:

With it, the sacred scepter, purple robe,

The holy unction, and the royal globe:

Yet am I levell’d with the life of Job.

The fiercest furies, that do daily tread

Upon my grief, my grey discrowned head,

Are those that owe my bounty for their bread.

They raise a war, and christen it the Cause,

While sacrilegious hands have best applause,

Plunder and murder are the kingdom’s laws;

Tyranny bears the title of taxation,

Revenge and robbery are reformation,

Oppression gains the name of sequestration.

My loyal subjects, who in this bad season

Attend me (by the law of God and reason),

They dare impeach, and punish for high treason.

Next at the clergy do their furies frown,

Pious episcopacy must go down,

They will destroy the crosier and the crown.

Churchmen are chain’d, and schismaticks are freed,

Mechanicks preach, and holy fathers bleed,

The crown is crucified with the creed.

The church of England doth all factions foster,

The pulpit is usurpt by each impostor,

Extempore excludes the Paternoster.

The Presbyter, and Independent seed

Springs with broad blades. To make religion bleed

Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed.

The corner stone’s misplac’d by every pavier:

With such a bloody method and behavior

Their ancestors did crucifie our Saviour.

My royal consort, from whose fruitful womb

So many princes legally have come,

Is forc’d in pilgrimage to seek a tomb.

Great Britain’s heir is forced into France,

Whilst on his father’s head his foes advance:

Poor child! He weeps out his inheritance.

With my own power my majesty they wound,

In the king’s name the king himself uncrown’d;

So doth the dust destroy the diamond.

With propositions daily they enchant

My people’s ears, such as do reason daunt,

And the Almighty will not let me grant.

They promise to erect my royal stem,

To make me great, t’ advance my diadem,

If I will first fall down, and worship them!

But for refusal they devour my thrones,

Distress my children, and destroy my bones;

I fear they’ll force me to make bread of stones.

My life they prize at such a slender rate,

That in my absence they drew bills of hate,

To prove the king a traytor to the state.

Felons obtain more privilege than I,

They are allow’d to answer ere they die;

’Tis death for me to ask the reason, why.

But, sacred Saviour, with thy words I woo

Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to

Such, as thou know’st do not know what they do.

For since they from their lord are so disjointed,

As to contemn those edicts he appointed,

How can they prize the power of his anointed?

Augment my patience, nullify my hate,

Preserve my issue, and inspire my mate;

Yet, though we perish, bless this church and state.