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YOUTH ENGLISH SECTION

Thomas Moore

The Irish Minstrel

Thomas MooreThose evening bells, those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of love, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours are passed away;
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so ’twill be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!

All of you without doubt have heard this romance before. But it isn’t well known that the lyrics were translated from English into Russian. The original is the poem “Those Evening Bells” by the Irish poet Thomas Moore. His poem was translated by the Russian poet Ivan Kozlov in the first half of the 19th century and set to music by the composer Alexander Alyabyev. The song became so popular in Russia that its origin was almost forgotten.

I was so amazed by this fact that I became interested in Thomas Moore’s personality and creative work so I decided to find out more about him. I was fascinated by his poetry so much that I translated some of his poems into Russian.

Thomas Moore was born on May 29, 1779 in Dublin. His father was a grocer, Moore came from a poor family and he never made a secret of it. On the contrary, in his poem ‘Epitaph on a Tuft-Hunter’ he mocked snobbery: “Heaven grant him now some noble nook / For, rest his soul! he’d rather be / Genteelly damn’d beside a Duke, / Than sav’d in vulgar company.” Tom started writing poems quite early and his first work was published when he was fourteen. He was educated at Trinity College (which had recently allowed entry to Catholic students) and studied law at the Middle Temple in London. At the beginning of the 19th century he published his first book, “The Poetical works of Thomas Little”.

Moore was far more than a balladeer, though. He had major success as a society figure in London, and worked in the Bermuda Islands for a year. Then he returned to England after travelling around the U.S. and Canada.

After that his next book appeared (“Epistles, Odes and other Poems”). It was born from his journeys. It criticized Americans and also aroused moral irritation. However, the songs from his famous book “Irish Melodies”, based on folk tunes, became very popular and gained sympathy for the Irish nationalists. Best known of these poems are “The Last Rose of Summer”, “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms” and “The Minstrel Boy” the poem about a brave and proud bard, who loved his fatherland very much and fought for it. It is necessary to say that Patriotism was an invariable theme in Moore’s creative work. This poem appeals to me and I would like you to listen to my translation of it.

The Minstrel Boy

The minstrel boy to the war has gone,
In the ranks of death you’ll find him;
His father’s sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
“Land of Song!” cried the warrior bard,
“Tho’ all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy right shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!”

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman’s chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov’d ne’er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said “No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav’ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!

Менестрель

Был послан на смерть менестрель молодой.
В шеренги, готовые к бою,
Вступил он – со старым отцовским мечом,
И лира блестит за спиною.
“О музыки край! – молвил воин-певец, –
Ты предан, обманут всем миром!
Но станет защитой тебе верный меч,
Прославит тебя моя лира!”

Повержен певец… Но в оковах врага
Дух гордый хранит он, не сникнув.
Лишь лира умолкла, увы, навсегда:
Он вырвал ей струны, воскликнув:
“Цепям не пленить, не запятнать
Души, что свободна как птица,
А песням для вольных сердец не звучать
Под сводами мрачной темницы!”

After some time he tried to write satire. In serious satire he wasn’t very successful, but in light and witty verse he was brilliant. He was recognized as the best specialist in this genre. His works, such as The Fudge Family in Paris (1818), portray the politics and manners of the Regency period.

After returning to England he married an actress, Elizabeth “Bessy” Dyke. It’s known that he loved his wife very much. Moore loved luxury, and, despite the large sums he was earning from his writing, soon got into debt and was forced to leave Britain and lived in Paris until the debt was finally paid off.

In 1817 he published the narrative poem Lalla Rookh which proved to be enormously successful. The poem tells the story of love and bravery; it’s full of beauty, rich imagination, real and impressive pictures. This was a result of long and careful work.

He finally settled in Sloperton Cottage at Bromham, Wiltshire, England, and became a novelist and biographer as well as a successful poet. He was awarded a literary pension and was considered as important a writer as Byron and Sir Walter Scott. But his personal life was dogged by a tragedy including the untimely deaths of all of his five children.

It’s interesting that Moore was a close friend of Byron and there is a famous incident when the two men were discussing fame walking along the Thames. Suddenly the sound of a boat man singing one of Moore’s songs came from the river; at which point Byron remarks: “That is fame.” Byron trusted Moore very much and gave him his memoirs. And Moore went on to write a life of Byron in 1830. Besides he spent eleven years writing a history of Ireland which proved very arduous.

Moore died on February 25, 1852. He is buried in the Church of St. Nicholas, Bromham, Wiltshire, England. (His actress wife, who died in 1865, is also buried in the grave.)

Moore remained a popular writer for the rest of his life and he is still Ireland’s national bard. Born in Ireland, Moore was a talented singer and musician with a natural ability as a lyric writer. His poems are full of patriotism and love for his native land. His dramatic views of nature are so beautiful and impressive and it is so easy to imagine them. As an illustration I would like to recite one more verse of this outstanding poet.

How dear to me the hour

How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea;
For then sweet dreams of other days arise,
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee.

And, as I watch the line of light that plays
Along the smooth wave toward the burning west,
I long to tread that golden path of rays.
And think ‘twould lead to some bright isle of rest.

Как дорог мне вечерний час

Как дорог мне вечерний час, когда закат пылает,
Когда луч солнца плавится в безмолвной глади вод,
И старые мечты он снова пробуждает,
И память шлёт тебе звезду – свой вздох печальный шлёт.

И бликами по волнам рассыпались тревоги
И тянется на Запад путь узкий, золотой…
Как хочется пойти по этой призрачной дороге!
Быть может, приведёт туда, где я найду покой…

Submitted by Anastasia Zaushitsyna,
Grade 11, Lyceum No. 1525 “Vorob’evy Gory”