William Wordsworth: biography, briefly about life and work. William Wordsworth: biography, briefly about the life and work of William Wordsworth short biography

Brief biography of the poet, basic facts of life and work:

WILLIAM WORDSWORT (1770-1850)

William Wordsworth (Wordsworth) was born on April 7, 1770 in Cockermouth, Cumberland. He was the second child of five children of D. Wordsworth, attorney and agent of J. Lowther, who later received the earldom of Lonsdale. The Wordsworths lived in the north of England, in the so-called Lake District.

William's mother died early, and in 1779, his father sent the boy to a classical school in Hawkshead (a village in North Lancashire, the center of the Lake District), where the wards were given an excellent education. Already at school, William began to write poetry.

In 1787 Wordsworth entered St James's College, Cambridge University. The young man at Cambridge did not like it. Passive refusal to study became a peculiar form of protest against the atmosphere of envy and sycophant prevailing there. He became interested in writing poems. In Cambridge, the poet began to create "Salisbury Plain", "Evening Walk", "Fine Sketches", "Residents of the Borderland".

The most important event in his student years was the 1790 vacation for Wordsworth. In July, he and his university friend R. Jones crossed the revolutionary awakening France on foot and reached the lakes of northern Italy through Switzerland.

In the meantime, Wordsworth's father died, and the Earl of Lonsdale owed him several thousand pounds, but refused to acknowledge this debt. The family hoped that after graduating from Cambridge, William would take ordination, but he was not disposed to do so.

In November 1791, the young man again went to France, to Orleans, to thoroughly study the French language. There he fell in love with the daughter of a military doctor, Anette Wallon, who soon became pregnant with him. However, Wordsworth had to return to England at the request of the guardians before the child was born. On December 15, 1792, Annette gave birth to a daughter, Caroline. Wordsworth acknowledged his paternity, but could not marry.

Upon his return to England, the poet settled in London. He had no money, no specific profession, no home of his own. For almost four years, the young man spent time in the company of London radicals, which became a good school for him to learn about the life of the lower classes of English society. William interacted with abandoned mothers, beggars, homeless children, vagabonds, and the crippled of the many Crown War events.

In the fall of 1794, one of Wordsworth's young friends died, bequeathed £ 900 to him. The poet immediately rented a house in which he settled in the company of his beloved sister Dorothy. From that time on, the sister was not separated from William until the end of his life.

Two years later, the Wordsworths moved to Alfoxden House near Bristol. There, William met Samuel Coleridge. The young people quickly found a common language and decided to help each other. This friendship changed not only the lives of both poets, but also the very English poetry.

During 1797-1798 they practically never parted and spent their time in "poetic amusements". Wordsworth turned to the creation of small lyric and dramatic poetry, which won him the love of the reading public. Many of them were written in accordance with the creative program developed by Wordsworth in conjunction with Coleridge and intended to destroy the poetic canon of neoclassicism.

Thus began a period in the life of the poet, which Wordsworth's biographers call the "great decade."

In 1798, friends published a collection of poetry "Lyric Ballads". The preface to the collection was in the nature of a literary manifesto, which defined a new style, a new vocabulary and a new theme for English poetry.

In fact, Wordsworth and Coleridge became the head of the so-called Lake School, or Lake School, which had a significant and beneficial influence on English poetry, developing a taste for the study of the common man and nature. The term itself originated in 1800, when Wordsworth was declared head of the Lake School in one of the English literary magazines, and in 1802 Coleridge and Southy were named members. The life and work of these three poets are associated with the Lake District, the northern counties of England where there are many lakes. Poets-leikists splendidly sang this land in their poems. The Lake School had some influence on Byron and Shelley.

Coleridge conceived a huge poem, it was supposed to tell in it about all the sciences, philosophical systems and religions of mankind. The poet had previously named it "Stream". But the impatient Coleridge did not have enough strength for such a grandiose plan, he soon lost interest in his idea and invited Wordsworth to start implementing it. He agreed and worked on the poem all his life, as much as forty years. The new author named his brainchild “The Hermit”. Wordsworth managed to complete only the first part of the poem, which he published in 1814 under the title "Promenade".

In May 1802 the old Earl of Lonsdale died and the heir agreed to pay the Wordsworth 8,000 pounds. This significantly strengthened the welfare of Dorothea and William, who were going to marry his childhood friend Mary Hutchinson. Since the short-lived Peace of Amiens was concluded between England and France, in August all three traveled to Calais, where they saw Annette Wallon and Caroline. And on October 4, Mary and Wordsworth got married. Their marriage was very happy. From 1803 to 1810, they had three sons and two daughters. Dorothea, who did not marry, remained to live in her brother's house. The family grew, and the Wordsworth had to periodically change their place of residence, moving to more spacious houses. In 1806, the poet purchased his own Dove Cottage in Grasmere, Westmoreland. The family later moved to Rydal Mount near Ambleside, where Wordsworth's daughter Catherine and son Charles died in 1812.

Published in England in 1807, the collection "Poems in Two Volumes" completed Wordsworth's "great decade".

In 1813, under the patronage of Lord Lonsdale, Wordsworth was appointed State Commissioner for Stamp Duty in two counties, Westmoreland and parts of Cumberland, which enabled him to provide for his family. The poet held this position until 1842, when he was awarded a royal pension - 300 pounds a year.

Even during his lifetime, by the 1830s, Wordsworth was recognized as a classic of English literature. In the last years of his life, the poet devoted a lot of time to what his family jokingly called "darning". He constantly and persistently reworked previously created works for each next reprint.

In 1843, the poet Robert Southey died, Wordsworth was awarded the title of poet laureate and remained so until his death.

* * *
You read the biography (facts and years of life) in a biographical article dedicated to the life and work of the great poet.
Thanks for reading. ............................................
Copyright: biographies of the lives of great poets

William Wordsworth, whose biography and work are the subject of this review, was the largest representative of the direction of romanticism in English literature. His work largely determined the transition from classicism to romanticism. Its landscape is the best example of the world's poetic heritage.

general characteristics

William Wordsworth was a prominent representative of his time, his works should be considered in the context of the era. In the 18th century, classicism was the dominant trend in English literature. However, by the end of the century, there was a tendency towards a transition to sentimental and romantic lyrics. This was largely determined by the dominant trends of that era, namely, the fact that the works of Rousseau played a great role in social and political thought and in literature in general. The cult of nature put forward by him and the image of human experiences, emotions, personality psychology had a huge impact on the educated circles of that time. In addition, English literature already had experience in creating sonnets, images of nature and fine lyrics. The works of W. Shakespeare, D. Chaucer, D. Milton had a great influence on the poet's work.

Childhood, adolescence and travel

William Wordsworth was born in 1770 in Cumberland County. He was the son of a real estate agent. The boy was sent to school in North Lancashire, where he received a good education: he studied ancient and English literature, mathematics. However, even more important was the fact that the child grew up in nature, which had a huge influence on the formation of the personality. It was then that he fell in love with landscapes, which later became mainly in his lyrical works. Then Wordsworth William entered the University of Cambridge, which was dominated by an atmosphere of rivalry, which did not suit him.

However, it was during his student years that a very significant event took place: on vacation, the young man, along with his friend, went on a journey on foot to France, where revolutionary upheavals were taking place. They made a great impression on the future poet. Together with his companion, he reached the Lake District in Italy. This journey was of great importance for his work: under the impression of him Wordsworth William wrote his first significant work ("Walk"). It has already outlined the basic creative principles of the author's poetry: a combination of a description of nature and philosophical reasoning. We can say that this poem has become one of his most significant works. He worked a lot on it in the subsequent mature years, reworking, transporting and inserting new parts into it.

Transition period

Wordsworth William after graduation from university devoted himself to poetry. However, the 1790s were a difficult time for him, as it was a period of disillusionment with the French Revolution. In addition, he very painfully perceived the fact that his country had started a war against France. All these experiences led to depression, so his lyrics of this period are painted in dark colors. But, fortunately, this did not last long, because very soon William Wordsworth, whose poems were still distinguished by melancholy and despondency, met Coleridge, who was also a poet. This acquaintance literally within a year grew into a strong friendship, which was very fruitful for their cooperation, and first of all for the creative upsurge of the author.

"Great Decade"

This is how it is customary to call the period from 1797 to 1808 in the poet's biography. William Wordsworth, whose works have now received a completely different sound, entered a period of creative upsurge. The friends decided to take a trip to Germany and, before sending them, decided to release a collection of poems that were supposed to demonstrate their views on modern literature. Coleridge was to write exotic ballads, while his friend was to write sentimental and romantic lyrics. However, the first included in the collection only about five works, the rest belonged to his co-author. The reason is to be found in the fact that Coleridge undertook to write ballads in the traditional English spirit, that is, on complex plots and in a serious style. While the poems in English by his friend were distinguished by their lightness and simplicity. His heroes spoke in a clear and accessible speech to everyone, which was a fundamental innovation for that time.

Creative principles

This collection is also interesting in that during its second edition, Wordsworth made an introduction in the preface, in which he outlined the rules that guided him when writing his poems. He stated that his lyrical ballads are based on plots and reality, which he perceived and described as he imagined it. And life, nature and everyday life were seen by the poet as a natural manifestation of the universe. Wordsworth stated that one should perceive and depict the surrounding reality in a simple, clear and colloquial language. He believed that there was no need to complicate anything when creating a literary work, since the laws of nature are natural, they must be perceived directly, without unnecessary philosophizing. In this setting, the influence of the ideas of Rousseau is guessed, who also glorified human life in the bosom of nature and emphasized the artificiality of urban life.

Basic images

Wordsworth's poems in English are notable for their uncomplicated composition, but their characteristic feature is the combination of the image of nature, emotional experiences with deep philosophical reasoning. This was new to English literature at the time. In addition, the author made the hero of his works a common man: on the pages of his poems there are vagabonds, wanderers, beggars, wandering merchants. This type of character was news to English literature, and not everyone immediately appreciated the poet's find. For some time, literary critics even criticized him for such innovations.

Another characteristic image in his poetry is that of a person who suffered from social injustice. Wordsworth very sharply condemned the war and wrote the drama "Residents of the Borderlands", in which he depicted all the horrors of victims and violence. And, finally, the image of himself occupies a large place in his creative heritage. The poet wrote his autobiography in a poetic form called the Prelude. It is distinguished by an accurate depiction of human psychology and the emotional experiences of the character, who carefully analyzed the path of his creative development as a poet. The image of the author is important for understanding all the poet's work in general.

Other works

The best examples of the author's lyrics include poems about the nature and emotional experiences of a person. He was especially sensitive to the depiction of nature. William Wordsworth, whose "Daffodils" are one of the best examples of his lyric poetry, felt the beauty of the world around him magnificently and perfectly. In the specified poem, he glorified the beauty of flowers, mountains in a very sonorous melodious form. This composition is distinguished by its extraordinary melodiousness and penetration.

Another of his famous works is called "On Westminster Bridge". William Wordsworth recreated the panorama of London, but drew attention not so much to the urban landscape as to natural phenomena. In general, the city as such is almost not present in the works of the poet. It belongs entirely to the countryside, the countryside and nature.

Late period

The last two decades of the poet's life were marked by the gradual fading of his poetic inspiration. In literary criticism, it is customary to distinguish between "early" and "late" Wordsworth. And if the first stage of his work was marked by a clear and harmonious outlook, then the later period is characterized by a heavy state of mind. This is largely due to the author's personal losses: he was very upset by the death of his beloved sister, with whom he lived all his life, as well as the death of his two children. In addition, he lost his brother, who drowned during one of the flights, as well as his friend Coleridge. Nevertheless, at this time he created a whole cycle of beautiful sonnets and elegiac works, which are imbued with sadness, grief and longing. These of his later works have a greater philosophical load than his earlier works, which were dominated by joyful admiration for the beauty of nature. The poet died in 1850 in the same county where he was born.

The value of creativity

Wordsworth's poetry became a landmark stage in the formation of English romanticism. In modern literary criticism, he, along with Coleridge, belongs to the older generation of romantics. Indicative is the fact that the author's poetry was not immediately recognized. Only in the 1830s were his literary achievements rewarded. The audience began to treat his works favorably, and the queen granted him the title of poet laureate. He was also famous in Russia. So, Pushkin in his famous "Sonnet" mentioned the name as a prominent author.

Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), English poet. Born April 7, 1770 in Cockermouth (Cumberland County). He was the second of five children of D. Wordsworth, attorney and agent of J. Lowther (later the first Earl of Lonsdale). In 1779, the boy was assigned to a classical school in Hawkshead (North Lancashire), from where he acquired an excellent knowledge of ancient philology and mathematics and an erudition in English poetry. In Hawkshead, he indulged in his favorite pastime - walking.

In 1787 Wordsworth entered St. John's College, Cambridge University, where he studied mainly English literature and Italian. During the holidays, he walked around the Lake District and Yorkshire and wrote the heroic distich of An Evening Walk (1793), in which there are many soulful pictures of nature. In July 1790 Wordsworth and his university friend R. Jones crossed on foot through France, which was experiencing a revolutionary awakening, and through Switzerland reached the lakes in northern Italy.

Youth? Rising wave. Behind - the wind, in front - the rocks.

Wordsworth William

Wordsworth's father died, and his employer, the Earl of Lonsdale, owed him several thousand pounds, but refused to acknowledge this debt. The family hoped that William would take holy orders, but he was not disposed to this and in November 1791 he again went to France, to Orleans, to thoroughly study the French language. There he fell in love with the daughter of a military doctor, Anette Wallon, who, on December 15, 1792, gave birth to his daughter Caroline. The guardians ordered him to return home immediately. Wordsworth acknowledged his paternity, but did not marry Anette.

On his return to London (December 1792) he published An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches, a story of a journey with Jones, written in France and colored with enthusiastic acceptance of the revolution. The Anglo-French war that broke out in February 1793 shocked Wordsworth and plunged him into despondency and anxiety for a long time. In the fall of 1794, one of Wordsworth's young friends died, bequeathed £ 900 to him. This timely gift allowed Wordsworth to devote himself entirely to poetry. From 1795 to mid-1797 he lived in Dorsetshire with his only sister, Dorothea; they were united by a complete kinship of souls. Dorothea believed in her brother, her support helped him out of depression and become a great poet. He began with the tragedy The Borderers. A poem in white verse The Ruined Cottage, about the fate of an unfortunate woman, is filled with genuine feelings; the poem subsequently became the first part of The Excursion.

In July 1797 the Wordsworths moved to Alfoxden (Somersetshire) - closer to S.T. Coleridge, who lived in Nether Stowe. During a year of close communication with Coleridge, a collection of Lyrical Ballads was formed, which included The Legend of the Old Sailor Coleridge, The Weak-Minded Boy, Thorn, Lines written a few miles from Tintern Abbey and other poems by Wordsworth. The anonymous edition of the Ballads came out in September 1798. Coleridge persuaded Wordsworth to start an epic "philosophical" poem about "man, nature, and society" called The Recluse. Wordsworth got down to business with enthusiasm, but got bogged down in composition. Within the framework of this plan, he wrote only a poetic introduction On Man, Nature and Life, the autobiographical poem Prelude (The Prelude, 1798-1805) and The Walk (1806-1814). At Alfoxden he also completed (but did not publish) Peter Bell.

In September 1798, Wordsworth and Coleridge made a trip to Germany. In Goslar, Wordsworth, approaching the Hermit, outlined in blank verse the story of his adolescent impressions and experiences from communication with nature. He later included what he wrote in the Prelude as Book I. In addition, he wrote many poems, incl. cycle of Lucy and Ruth. In December 1799, he and Dorothea rented a cottage in Grasmere, Westmoreland. In January 1801 Wordsworth released the second edition of Lyric Ballads, adding the narrative poems Brothers and Michael created in Grasmere and an extensive preface on the nature of poetic inspiration, the purpose of the poet, the content and style of true poetry. Coleridge did not give a single new work in the second edition, and it, absorbing the first, was published under the name of one Wordsworth.

Winter and spring of 1802 were marked by the poet's creative activity: the Cuckoo, the Butterfly triptych, and the Promises of Immortality: Ode, Determination and Independence were written. In May 1802 the old Earl of Lonsdale died and the heir agreed to pay the Wordsworth 8,000 pounds. This significantly strengthened the welfare of Dorothea and William, who were about to marry Mary Hutchinson. In August, all three traveled to Calais, where they saw Anette Wallon and Caroline, and on October 4, Mary and Wordsworth were married. Their marriage was very happy. From 1803 to 1810 she bore him five children. Dorothea stayed with her brother's family.

In 1808 the Wordsworths moved to a more spacious house in the same Grasmere. There Wordsworth wrote most of the Walk and several prose works, incl. his famous pamphlet on the Cintra Convention, dictated by sympathy for the Spaniards under Napoleon's rule and outrage at the treacherous policies of England. This period was overshadowed by a spat with Coleridge (1810-1812) and the death in 1812 of daughter Catherine and son Charles. In May 1813 the Wordsworths left Grasmere and settled in Rydell Mount, two miles closer to Ambleside, where they lived for the rest of their days. That same year Wordsworth was promoted to State Commissioner for Stamp Duty in two counties, Westmoreland and parts of Cumberland, under the patronage of Lord Lonsdale, which enabled him to provide for his family. He held this position until 1842, when he was awarded a royal pension - 300 pounds a year.

After the end of the Napoleonic Wars (1815) Wordsworth was able to satiate his passion for travel, having visited Europe several times. He finished the prelude, "a poem about his life," as early as 1805, but in 1832-1839 he carefully rewrote it, softening overly explicit passages and inserting fragments imbued with emphatically Christian sentiments. In 1807, he released Poems in Two Volumes, which included many of his great lyric examples. The walk was published in 1814, followed in 1815 by the first collection of poems in two volumes (the third was added in 1820); in 1816 the Thanksgiving Ode was published - for the victorious end of the war; in 1819 saw the light of Peter Bell and The Wagoner, written as early as 1806, and in 1820 - the cycle of sonnets The River Duddon.

Like clouds of a lonely shadow
I wandered, gloomy and quiet,
And met on that happy day
A crowd of golden daffodils.
In the shade of the branches by the blue waters
They danced in a circle.

Like a starry tent
Flowers streamed a shaky light
And swaying in the wind
They sent me their greetings.
There were thousands of them around
And everyone nodded to me like a friend.

Their dance was merry
And I saw, full of delight,
I couldn't compare with her
The slow dance of the waves.
Then I did not know the whole price
Living gold of spring.

But since then, when in the dark
I wait in vain for sleep to come
I remember flowers
And, overshadowed by joy,
On that wooded shore
The soul dances in their circle.

Translation by A. Ibragimov

Multi-foam streams,
After running a rocky path
Fall down deep
To shut up and fall asleep.

A flock of clouds when humbled
Thunderstorm anger and thunder rumble
Lies down with a gloomy helmet
On a jagged row of hills.

Day and night roe deer gallops
On the rocks among the heights
But hides her in bad weather
A secluded grotto from the rain.

The sea beast in the ocean
Peaceful blood is deprived,
Sleeps between the waves, but their rocking
He does not feel through his sleep.

Let, like a boat driven by a thunderstorm,
The crows are dancing in the stormy darkness, -
He's glad to have a dock
On an unshakable rock.

Timid ostrich before sunset
Running across the sands
But he too is in a hurry somewhere
In my native shadow - for the night ...

Endlessly my road
The goal is still ahead
And the nomad's anxiety
Day and night in my chest.

Even the leaf in the oak forest has not faded,
And harvests from the fields, under a clear sky,
I didn't cut the sickle, but cold in the air,
Smelling from the mountains where the Spirit of Winter drew

Ice sword, I hear a hint
That soon the leaf will fall in the green forest.
And the leaf whispers to the singers of spring with a groan:
Hurry south, your foe is not far off!

And I, singing in winter, as in summer,
Without trembling, in that deaf rustle
Dense forests and in a clear shine volume

Autumn days, I'm waiting with joyful greetings
Snows and storms, when the warmer is stronger,
Than in the summer heat, the poet is delighted with muses.

Off-road at random, -
Simple hair, wild look, -
Burned by the fierce sun,
In a deaf land she wanders.
And in her arms is her child,
And there was not a soul nearby.
Taking breath under the haystack,
On a stone in the silence of the forest
She sings, full of love,
And the English song is heard:

“Oh, my baby, my life!
Everyone says: I am insane.
But it's easy for me when mine
I will satisfy my sorrow with a song.
And I pray you baby
Do not be afraid, do not be afraid of me!
You seem to be sleeping in a cradle
And, keeping you from trouble,
My baby, I remember mine
Great debt to you.

My brain was on fire
And the pain blurred my eyes
And the chest is cruel at that time
The swarm gnawed at ominous spirits.
But, waking up, having come to myself,
How happy I am to see again
And feel your child
His living flesh and blood!
I have conquered a nightmare
My boy is with me, only him.

To my chest, son, snuggle
With tender lips - they
As if from my heart
Draw out his sorrow.
Rest on my chest
Touch her with your fingers:
Gives her relief
Your cool palm.
Your hand is fresh, light
Like a breath of a breeze.

Love, love me baby!
You give your mother happiness!
Don't be afraid of the angry waves below
When I carry in my arms
You along the sharp ridges of rocks.
Rocks do not promise me trouble
I am not afraid of the roaring shaft -
After all, you save my life.
Blessed am I, child keeping:
He can't survive without me.

Don't be afraid, little one! Believe me
Brave as a wild beast
I will be your guide
Through the dense edges.
I will arrange your accommodation there,
Made of leaves - a soft bed.
And if you, my child,
You will not leave your mother before the deadline, -
My beloved, in the wilderness of the forest
You will sing like a thrush in spring.

Sleep on my chest, chick!
Your father doesn't love her.
She faded, faded.
Well, my light, she is sweet.
She's yours. And it doesn't matter
That my beauty is gone:
You will always be faithful to me
And in the fact that I became dark,
There is little use: after all, pale cheeks
You can't see mine, son.

Do not listen to lies, my love!
I was married to your father.
We will fill in the forest shadow
An innocent life these days.
And he won't live with me
When I neglected you.
But don't be afraid: he is not evil,
He himself is unhappy, God knows!
And every day with you alone
We will pray for him.

I will teach in the darkness of the woods
You to the night song of owls.
The baby's lips are immobile.
Are you not full, my soul?
How strange they got confused in an instant
Your heavenly features!
My dear boy, your eyes are wild!
Aren't you mad too?
Awful sign! If this is so -
In me forever sadness and darkness.

Oh, smile, my lamb!
And calm down your mother!
I managed to overcome everything:
I was looking for my father day and night,
The spirits of darkness threatened me
My house was a damp dugout.
But don't be afraid, honey, we
We will find our father in the forest with you.
All my life in the forest edge,
Son, we'll be like in paradise. "

Blessed is he who walks, averted gaze
From the terrain, whose colors and features
They call themselves to look at close range,
Passing beautiful flowers.

He desires a different space:
Dream space, sweet dream call, -
As if instantly woven pattern
Between the shine and the eclipse of beauty.

Love and Thought, invisible to the eyes,
They will leave us - and with the Muse in their turn
We will hasten to say goodbye at the same hour.
As long as inspiration lives -

Shed dew on the chant
Heavenly mind, enclosed in us.

Evening scene dedicated to the same theme

Stand up! Get off your books, my friend!
Why fruitless languor?
Take a closer look around
Reading will make you old!

Here is the sun over the bulk of the mountains
Following the midday heat
Green flooded the space
Evening gentle yellowness.

How sweetly the Oriole sings!
Hurry to listen to her! bird song
Gives me more wisdom
Than those boring pages.

Hear the blackbird preach
Go to the green abode!
There you will be enlightened without difficulty:
Nature is your best teacher.

Wealth is wonderful
She bestows upon us with love.
And in her revelations
Fun breathes and health.

You about the essence of good
And human destiny
Spring winds will tell
Not tricky teachings.

After all, our lifeless language
Our minds are in vain
Nature distorts the face
Breaking apart the beautiful world.

Arts are not needed and sciences.
In pursuit of true knowledge
Teach your heart, my friend,
Attention and understanding.

Early in the morning or at the hour when
Sunset burns with the last blaze of light
And in the dusk of the evening, all the distance is dressed,
Look, the brooding poet, then
To the waterfall, where the water is stormy,
Like a lion in a log, it rages. No item
More awful! The spirit of the terrible water cannon
In a crown of stone, curls, beard
Streams flow - sits over the urn,
Hiding your appearance during the day. He streams
On the velvet of the meadows an azure stream
Or meeting granite on the way
Collapsed, mountain debris, thunders
And foams through them with a stormy wave.

From nests weaving in spring
Through the groves as birds, nobody's
With such a beauty is not built,
Like chiffchaff housing.

There is no vault on it,
There are no doors either; but never
No bright light penetrates
No rain deep into the nest.

It's so cozy, so smart
Everything is adjusted that, to know,
Already given to the chiffchaffs from above
The art of twisting

And hide nests from adversity
In such a wilderness, in such a shadow,
That even the hermit won't find
The shade is thicker for the cell.

They build nests in crevices
Ruins, surrounded by ivy;
Then they are twisted in the reeds,
Hanging over the stream

Where, so that the female does not get bored,
The male pours his trill loudly
Or father and mother all day
They sing to the beat of the stream;

Then they twist them in the forest clears,
Where there is a treasure in a nest, like in an urn,
Mother hides the testicles while
Will not fly back.

But if the chicks are quite
Skilled in building their nests, -
All the same in the choice of places for them
More skillful than others.

Such and such a bird was under the shade,
A house of moss is hidden in that place,
Where he spread around like a deer,
Horn branches oak.

But, apparently, she was unable to
Hide your house with your mind:
She asked for help
Forest initial letter bush,

Where the dwarf oak drooped
Up there, like a child's height,
Could be seen above a thick bush
That miracle between the nests.

I showed my treasure proudly
To friends capable of without shame
Appreciate small things. But once,
I looked - no nest!

Killed! It can be seen that the predator is evil,
The enemy of songs, truth and love
Done with a ruthless hand
Here are your exploits!

But after three days, passing
In the bright sun the place is
I look - and cried out like a child -
Safe nest!

Before him is a bush of the forest letter
Raised the sheets like sails
And with this simple trick
I deceived my eyes. -

Sheltered from predatory hands
Hiding from your friends
So that your friend does not bother you
To hatch children, -

Sit here, chiffchaff! And so,
As the kids fly out and empty
Your house will become, it will fade
And the patron saint of the bush.

Don't forget how you are here
In a shady grove, in rain and heat,
The coast, cherishing and loving,
The bush of the initial letter is forest.

The Lord's world, we see it everywhere,
And death will come, save or spend.
And we have so little to do with nature,
In our dastardly age we are busy with something else.

The sea plays with the golden moon,
The wind flutters, drunk with freedom
Ile sleeps and accumulates power before bad weather.
What does it matter to us! We are indifferent to them.

We are strangers to everything. Good God,
Why was I not born in paganism!
Then, fed by the sacred oak forest,

I would dream of centuries gone by.
In my presence, Proteus the evil one would rise from the waves,
Triton would blow into the twisted horn in my presence.

(true story)

What a disease, what a strength
Days and months in a row
That shakes Harry Gill
That his teeth are chattering?
Harry has no shortage
In vests, fur coats.
And everything that the patient is wearing
Warmed b and nine.

April, December, June
Whether in the heat, in the rain, in the snow,
Under the sun or full moon
Harry's teeth are chattering!
It's the same with Harry all year round -
Both young and old confirm about him:
In the afternoon, in the morning, all night long
Harry's teeth are chattering!

He was young and well-knit
For the craft of a drover:
In his shoulders a slanting fathom,
Blood and milk is his cheek.
Goody Blake was old
And everyone could tell you
What need she lived in
How wretched her dark house is.

Thin shoulders behind the yarn
Did not straighten day and night.
Alas, it happened, and on candles
She could not save up.
Stood on the cold side
The hill is her frozen house.
And coal was at a great price
In a remote village volume.

She has no close friend
She has no one to share shelter and food with.
She, apparently, in a beggarly shack
One will have to die.
Only a clear sunny time
With the arrival of summer heat
Like a bird of the field
She can be fun.

When will the ice cover the streams -
She can't stand life at all.
How the cruel frost burns her
And my bones tremble!
When it's so empty and dead
Her dwelling at a late hour, -
Oh guess how it feels
Do not close her eyes from the cold!

She rarely got happiness
When, around mening robbery,
Dry branches to her hut
And the night wind drove the chips.
Nor did the rumor mention
So that Goody is stocked up for future use.
And she barely had enough wood
Only for a day or two.

When frost pierces the veins
And old bones ache -
Garden wattle Harry Gill
Her eyes are drawn.
And now, leaving his hearth,
As soon as the winter day fades away
She's a cold hand
Feels for that fence.

But about Goody's old walks
Harry Gill guessed.
He mentally threatened her with punishment,
He decided to lie in wait for Goody.
He went to hunt her down
Into the fields at night, into the snow, into the blizzard,
Leaving warm housing
Leaving the hot bed.

And then one day for a hay
He hid, swearing frost.
Under the bright full moon
The frozen stubble crunched.
Suddenly he hears a noise and immediately
It descends from the hill like a shadow:
Yes, it's Goody Blake just
Has come to destroy the fence!

Harry was glad of her diligence,
He bloomed with an evil smile,
And he waited, as long as - pole by pole -
She will fill her hem.
When did she go without strength
Back with my burden -
Harry Jill shouted ferociously
And blocked her way.

And he grabbed her with his hand,
With a hand as heavy as lead
With a strong and evil hand,
Shouting: "Got caught, finally!"
The full moon was shining.
I will drop my load on the ground,
She prayed to the Lord,
Kneeling in the snow.

Falling into the snow, Goody prayed
And raised her hands to the sky:
“Let him be forever freezing!
Lord, deprive him of warmth! "
That was her plea.
Harry Jill heard her -
And at the same moment from toes to forehead
A chill ran through him.

Shaking him all night, and in the morning
A shiver ran through him.
With a sad face, a dull look
He did not look like himself.
Didn't help to escape the cold
He has a cabby sheepskin coat.
And at two he could not get warm,
And in three he was cold as a corpse.

Caftans, blankets, fur coats -
Everything is useless from now on.
Harry's teeth are chattering, chattering
Like a window sash in the wind.
In winter and summer, in the heat and in the snow
They knock, knock, knock!
He won't keep warm forever! -
Both old and young talk about him.

He doesn't want to talk to anyone.
Into the glow of the day, into the darkness of the night
He only mumbles plaintively
That it is very cold to him.
This extraordinary story
I have told you truthfully.
May they be in your memory
And Goody Blake and Harry Jill!

Heavenly Pilgrim and Minstrel!
Or does the land seem unclean to you?
Or, flying up into the air and scattering a trill,
Are you here with your heart with a nest in the dewy grass?
You fall into your nest among the grasses,
Having folded their wings, interrupting the singing!

To the limits of sight, fly higher
Brave singer! And a love song
The heights will not part you from yours,
A valley from a height of charuy is more wonderful!
Alone you can sing in the blue
Not tied by a plexus of foliage.

Leave the shady forest for the nightingale;
Among the rays is your solitude;
Your harmony is more divine,
Over the world pouring into rapture.
So the sage soars, not striving into the distance
And keeping in touch with the house in the sky!

Forgotten, I thought in a dream,
What do the fleeing years have
Over the one who is dearer to me
From now on, there is no power.

She is in her grave cradle
Forever destined
With mountains, sea and grass
Rotate at the same time.

The earth is in bloom and the sky is clear,
The buzzing of bees, the slow herd,
And the noise of the rain, and the noise from the waterfall,
And the maturity of the cornfields, and late birds flying away.

I remember everything - but there is no dream,
It is not necessary to wait long for dawn.
The twittering of the morning garden will burst
The cuckoo will begin its sad account.

Two nights I'm fighting a running dream
I didn’t close my eyes, and now this one!
Morning will come - what joy is in it,

When I did not sleep and toiled until light.
Come, put a line between day and day,
Keeper of the poet's strength and clear thoughts!

A story for fathers, or how you can cultivate the habit of lying

My boy is handsome and slender -
He's only five.
And with a tender loving soul
He is a match for an angel.

At our house together
We walked with him at an early hour,
Talking about this, about this,
As is customary with us.

I was reminded of a distant land
Our house last spring.
And the coast of Kilva is like paradise,
Appeared before me.

And I have saved so much happiness
That, going back in thought,
I could that day without pain
To remember the past.

Dressed simply, unadorned,
My boy was handsome and sweet.
I am with him, as before many times,
He spoke lightly.

The lambs were graceful running
Against the backdrop of a sunny day.
“Our Lisvin, like the Kilvsky Breg,
Wonderful, ”I said.

“Is this house sweeter to you? -
I asked the kid. -
Or the one on the seashore?
Answer, my soul!

And where do you live, in which edge
I would like more, give an answer:
On the Kilva seashore
Or in Liswin, my light? "

He raised his eyes to me,
And the look was full of innocence:
“I would like to live by the sea,
Near green waves. "

“But, dear Edward, why?
Tell me, my boy, why? "
“I don’t know,” was his answer.
And I myself do not understand ... "

“Why this grace
Forests and sunny meadows
You recklessly trade
Is the sea ready for Kilv? "

But, averting his embarrassed gaze,
He did not answer anything.
I repeated five times in a row:
"Tell me why?"

Suddenly the kid raised his head
And, attracted by a bright splendor,
Saw on one of the rooftops
He is a sparkling weather vane.

And a moment later his answer
So long-awaited, was this:
“The thing is that in Kilva there is no
Here are these roosters. "

I would not dream of becoming wiser
When, my dear son,
What I learned from you
I could teach myself.

Oh, awaken in us honest aspirations,
Shake off the grave dream, rise up, poet!

Your soul was a shining star
Your voice was like a bright sea wave -
Mighty and free and ringing;

You walked steadily along the path of life.
Be the rising dawn for us again,
Be a torch above the vague crowd!

What secrets passion knows!
But only to those of you
Who himself tasted the power of love,
I will trust my story.

When, like a rose of spring days,
My love was blooming
I rushed to her on a date,
The moon was floating with me.

I watched the moon with my eyes
Through bright skies.
And my horse ran merrily -
He knew the way himself.

Finally, an orchard
Running up the slope.
The familiar roof slope
Illuminated by the moon.

Swept over by the sweet power of sleep
I didn't hear hooves
And only saw that the moon
Stands in the hut

Hoof by hoof, horse
I walked up the slope.
But suddenly the fire of the moon went out
He disappeared behind the roof.

Longing lightened my heart,
As soon as the light went out.
"What if Lucy died?" -
I said for the first time.

I hear your two-tone moan
Here lying on the grass;
Near, far - everywhere he is
In the airy blue

He brings the message to the valleys
About the sun, about the flowers,
And me - a magic sweet dream
About the wonderful past days.

Capture, as once, my hearing!
Until now, guest of the valleys,
You are not a bird for me; no you are a spirit
Riddle, sound one, -

The sound that in the old days
As a schoolboy, I was looking
Everywhere, in the sky and in the shadows
Trees, and in the depths of rocks.

It used to be everywhere all day
I wander in forests and meadows;
I'm looking everywhere but nowhere
I can't find you.

So now I'm glad to listen
Your cry in the forest shadow.
I'm waiting: won't they come back
The days are long gone.

And again the world seems to me
Some kind of kingdom of dreams
Where did you go, like to a feast,
You, the spring guest of the woods!

There was a boy. You knew him, the cliffs
And the Winandra Islands! How many times,
In the evenings, only just above the tops
The hills will ignite the sparks of the early stars
In the dark azure, he used to stand
In the shade of the trees, above the shining lake.
And there, fingers and palm crossed
Bringing to the palm like a tube,
He brought her to his lips and shouted
Disturbed the world in the forest of dense owls.
And to his call, from all sides,
Above the water plain resounded
Their wild cry, shrill and sharp.
And a ringing whistle, and laughter, and in the mountains
Rumble rolling echo - wonderful sounds
Magic choir! When, after that,
Suddenly there was silence, he often
In the silence of nature, on the rocks,
I myself felt an involuntary thrill in my heart,
Hearing somewhere far away the murmur
Upland springs. Marvelous picture
Then he delighted the soul in him
With its solemn beauty, its
Cliffs, forests, warm skies,
In the abyss of waters dimly reflected.

He's gone! The poor thing died early
He left his peers for nine years.
Oh how beautiful the quiet valley is
Where he was born! All covered with ivy,
Hanging from the rocks above the village school church.
And if it happens to me on a summer evening
Go through the graveyard, I'm ready
To stand there for an hour with deep thought
Over the quiet grave where he sleeps.

Stay close, stop the flight!
Let my gaze freeze on you!
Every moment is recreated by you
My original days!
And the time that is long dead
enlivened by you
Fluttering creature:
I see my father
with my whole family.

Oh sweetness, sweetness of childhood years
When the moth follows
My sister and I ran
Hot by the game.
I, as a hunter, lie in wait
Prey - but was in vain
My run, desperate leap:
Protected jealously by God
pollen from pretty wings.

William Wordsworth (otherwise: William Wordsworth, eng. William Wordsworth, April 7, 1770, Cockermouth, Cumberland - April 23, 1850, Rydal Mount, near Grasmere, Cumberland) - English romantic poet, the main author of the collection "Lyrical Ballads", conventionally referred to as the so-called. "Lake school".

Biography

William Wordsworth was born on April 7, 1770 at Cockermouth, Cumberland. William Wordsworth was the second of five children of D. Wordsworth, attorney and agent of J. Lowther (later the first Earl of Lonsdale).

In 1779, the young William Wordsworth was assigned to the classical school in Hawkshead (North Lancashire), from where he acquired an excellent knowledge of ancient philology and mathematics and a well-read in English poetry. In Hawkshead, the future poet devoted a lot of time to his favorite pastime - walking.

Already in 1787, William Wordsworth entered St. John's College, Cambridge University, where he studied mainly English literature and Italian. During the holidays, he walked around the Lake District and Yorkshire and wrote the heroic distich of the poem An Evening Walk (1793), which contains many soulful pictures of nature.

In July 1790, William Wordsworth and his university friend Richard Jones crossed the revolutionary awakening France on foot and reached the lakes in northern Italy through Switzerland.

Wordsworth's father died, and his employer, the Earl of Lonsdale, owed him several thousand pounds, but refused to acknowledge this debt. The family hoped that William Wordsworth would become ordained, but he was not disposed to this and in November 1791 he again went to France, to Orleans, to improve his knowledge of the French language. In Orleans, he fell in love with the daughter of a military doctor, Anette Wallon, who gave birth to his daughter Caroline on December 15, 1792. The guardians ordered him to return home immediately. William Wordsworth acknowledged his paternity, but did not marry Anette.

On his return to London in December 1792, he published An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches, a story of a journey with Jones, written in France and colored with enthusiastic acceptance of the revolution.

The outbreak of the Anglo-French war in February 1793 shocked William Wordsworth and plunged him into despondency and anxiety for a long time.

In the fall of 1794, one of William Wordsworth's young friends died, bequeathed £ 900 to him. This timely gift allowed Wordsworth to devote himself entirely to poetry. From 1795 to mid-1797 he lived in Dorsetshire with his only sister, Dorothea; they were united by a complete kinship of souls. Dorothea believed in her brother, her support helped him out of depression. He began with the tragedy "The Borderers". The poem in white verse "The Ruined Cottage", about the fate of an unfortunate woman, is filled with genuine feeling; the poem subsequently became the first part of The Excursion.

In July 1797, the Wordsworths moved to Alfoxden (Somersetshire), closer to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who lived in Nether Stowe. During a year of close communication with Coleridge, a collection of Lyrical Ballads was formed, which included Coleridge's The Tale of the Old Navigator, The Weak-Minded Boy, The Turn, The Lines, written a few miles from Tintern Abbey and others. poems by Wordsworth. The anonymous edition of the Ballads came out in September 1798. Samuel Taylor Coleridge persuaded Wordsworth to begin an epic "philosophical" poem about "man, nature, and society" called The Recluse. William Wordsworth enthusiastically set to work, but got bogged down in composition. Within the framework of this plan, he wrote only a poetic introduction About man, nature and life, the autobiographical poem "Prelude" (The Prelude, 1798-1805) and "Walk" (1806-1814). At Alfoxden he also completed (but did not publish) Peter Bell.

In September 1798 the Wordsworths and Coleridge made a trip to Germany. In Goslar Wordsworth, starting his work on The Hermit, set forth in blank verse the story of his adolescent impressions and experiences from communion with nature. He later incorporated what he had written into the Prelude as Book I. In addition, he wrote many poems, including the cycle "Lucy and Ruth".