Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах

Alas, alas! quo’ bonny Heck,

On former days when I reflect!

I was a Dog much in respect

For doughty Deed:

But now I must hing by the Neck

Without Rameed.

O sy, Sirs, for black buming Shame,

Ye’ll bring a Blunder on your Name!

Pray tell me wherein I’m to blame?

Is’t in Effect.

Because I’m Criple, Auld and Lame?

Quo’ bony Heck.

What great Feats I have done my Sell

Within Clink of Kilrenny Bell,

When I was Souple, Young and Fell

But Fear or Dread,

John Nese and Paterson can tell,

whose Hearts may bleid.

They’ll witness that I was the Vier

Of all the Dogs within the Shire,

I’d run all day, and never tyre:

but now my Neck

It must be stretched for my Hyre,

quo’ bonny Heck.

How nimbly could I turn the Hare,

Then serve my self, that was right fair!

For still it was my constant Care

the Van to lead.

Now, what could sery Hesk do mair,

syne kill her dead?

At the King’s-Muir and Kelly-law,

Where good stout Hares gang fast awa,

So cliverly I did it Claw,

with Pith and Speed:

I bure the Bell before them a

as clear’s a Beid.

I ran alike on a’kind Grounds,

Yea in the midst of Ardry Whines;

I grip’t the Mackings be the Bunns,

or be the Neck:

Where nathing could stay than but Guns,

saye bonny Heck.

I Wily, Witty was, and Gash,

With my auld Felni Packy pasn,

Nac Man might anes buy me for Cash

in iome respect.

Are they not then Confounded fash,

that hang poor Heck?

I was a bardy Tyk and bauld,

Tho’ my Beard’s Gray, I’m not so auld

Can any Man to me unsald,

What is the Feid,

To stane me ere I be well Cauld?

A cruel Deed!

Now Honesty was ay my Drift,

An innocent and harmlets Shift,

A Kaill-pot-lid gently to lift,

or Amry Sneck,

Shame fa the Chasts, dare call that This,

quo’ bonny Heck.

So well’s I cou’d play Hocus Pocas

And of the Servants make jodocus,

And this I did in every Locus.

throw their Neglect.

And was not this a Merry focus

quo’ bonny Heck?

But now, good Sirs, this day is lost,

The best Dog in the East Nook Coast,

For never ane durst Braz not Boast

me, for their Neck.

But now I must yeild up the Ghost,

quo’ bonny Heck.

And put a period to my Talking,

For I m unto my Exit making:

Sirs, ye may a’gae to the Hawking.

and there reflect,

Ye’l ne’er get sick a Dog for Makin

as bonny Heck.

But if my Puppies, ance were ready,

Which I got on a bonny Lady:

They’l be baith Cliver, Keen, and Beddy,

and ne’er neglect,

To clink it like their ancient Daddy,

the famous Heck.