Бесплатный фрагмент - Heroes and romantics A Path in verse

PREFACE

To the Reader

The eighteenth century was an age of movement — of ships that crossed unknown waters, of soldiers marching toward uncertain horizons, and of quiet households where letters were written at a small wooden desk by candlelight. It was a world forever balanced between discovery and hardship, between duty and longing. It was an age of both struggle and grace.

Most who lived then did not dream of publishing poems. They wrote for themselves, for loved ones far away, for solace after loss, or for the simple human need to turn emotion into words. Their verses appeared in personal journals, in private correspondence, in the margins of worn books. These small, intimate creations were never meant for fame, yet they captured the pulse of the people who lived through that era — its fears, its devotion, its unpolished beauty.

This book is an attempt to revive their spirit. The poems you will read are not reproductions of lost works, nor imitations meant to trick the modern eye. They are newly written pieces, crafted deliberately in the style, tone, and sensibility of ordinary poets of the 18th century, but adapted for the contemporary reader to bridge the gap of time and language.

However, as a testament to our respect for the original authors and for you, the reader, to appreciate the authentic voice of the past, we have included the original poems alongside our adaptations. This allows a rare glimpse into the raw material of history — to read the words as they were first set down and to witness the beauty and complexity that inspired this collection.

Why does this matter? Because we are the descendants of their courage and their tenderness. Because the past becomes silent only when we stop listening. And because in their struggles, hopes, and small triumphs, we still find reflections of ourselves.

— Compiler

PART I — THE UNKNOWN POETS

Seven Adapted Poems

1. “The Road Beyond the Hill”

I stood upon the rising land,

Where morning winds began to stir,

And saw the world so wide, unplanned,

Unfold its quiet character.

The road beyond the distant rise

Was pale beneath the waking sun,

A ribbon drawn through changing skies—

A path for all, a path for one.

I felt the call of far-off days,

Of fields untrod, of hope untamed;

And though the world held thousand ways,

I chose the one I could not name.

So let the hill stand tall and still—

My heart moves on, as hearts must will.

2. “To the Letters Never Sent”

I kept them folded in a drawer,

Those words I never dared to send;

For what we fear, we guard the more,

And what we guard, we never mend.

Yet ink endures though hopes may fade,

And paper waits without complaint;

It holds the truths we never made,

And bears the weight of self-restraint.

Oh silent pages, sealed with dust,

Forgive the heart that feared its own;

For love withheld becomes mistrust,

And longing kept grows into stone.

Still, may you rest in quiet grace—

The echoes of a hidden place.

3. “Song of the Wayfarer”

My boots are worn, my coat is thin,

My road is rough, but still I go;

For every loss I hold within

Becomes a lantern in the snow.

The night is deep, the stars are few,

The wind grows sharp along the plain;

But hearts that break, and break anew,

Find strength in every tender pain.

So let the world be harsh and wide—

A wanderer learns to abide.

4. “The Candle in the Window”

A little flame behind the glass,

A trembling hope against the cold,

It waits for those who long to pass

From weary roads to hearths of old.

It flickers when the storm winds rise,

It sways when doubt is drawing near;

Yet still it burns before our eyes—

A quiet sign that home is here.

Through tempests strong and shadows wide,

One gentle light will still abide.

5. “A Soldier’s Quiet Prayer”

Lord, grant my heart the strength to bear

The weight of days I cannot know;

Grant me the will to face despair,

And courage when the trumpets blow.

Let honor guide my steadfast hand,

Let mercy temper all I do;

And if I fall in unknown land,

Let love remember I was true.

6. “The Old Sailor’s Tale” (longer poem)

I have wandered through storms where the sea rose high,

Where the timbers groaned and the winds would cry,

Where the gulls were lost in a mist so pale,

And the stars themselves seemed frail.

I have sailed where the distant islands gleam,

Like ghosts that drift through a morning dream;

I have seen the sun on the silver foam,

And found in no port my home.

Yet still I roam on the restless tide,

For the sea keeps all that the land denied;

And though I age as the seasons pass,

My heart is young as the looking-glass—

For every wave, with its voice so free,

Whispers, “Come back to me.”

7. “The Orchard Beyond the Gate” (longer poem)

Beyond the gate, the orchard lies

Where branches bend beneath the skies;

Where blossoms fall like softened snow,

And time moves gentle, calm, and slow.

There childhood’s laughter lingers still

Like echoes wrapped around the hill;

There every dream we meant to chase

Still waits in some forgotten place.

Though seasons change and years depart,

The orchard keeps a faithful heart;

And those who wander back once more

Will find the peace they knew before.

PART I — ORIGINAL POEMS (as if written in the 18th century)

(These are older-voiced, more archaic versions of the same themes.)

1. “Upon the Eastern Rise”

Upon the hill where dawn uncurtains day,

I stood amidst the breath of waking air,

And saw the road stretch pale and far away,

A wandering thread through realms both wild and fair.

The fields lay hushed beneath the tender skies,

The winds moved soft as if they feared to roam;

Yet in my breast did restless yearnings rise—

For hearts oft stray though bodies cling to home.

Thus forth I went, though fate be yet unknown;

The hill behind me watched in solemn stone.

2. “Lines Kept Close Within My Desk”

Within my drawer, in modest silence laid,

Lie letters wrought in melancholy hue;

The hand that wrote them faltered, half afraid

To speak the truths that trembling spirits knew.

Oh timid heart, that dared not trust its plea,

But sealed its hopes within a paper tomb—

How many joys hath caution robbed from me,

How many blossoms stolen from their bloom.

Yet still those pages bear my shameful art,

A testament to an uncertain heart.

3. “The Wanderer’s Verse”

My coat is threadbare, yet my pace is strong,

The road before me winds through vale and hill;

And though the night be deep, the way be long,

A broken spirit bends, but journeys still.

The winds may chide me with their bitter breath,

The rains may soak me to my weary bone;

Yet he who walks in solitude and death

Finds fellowship within the great unknown.

Thus let me roam where mortal feet may tread,

For hope is found where all the past has fled.

4. “A Light Kept in the Casement”

A slender flame behind the window cast

Doth brave the winter’s wild, unyielding rage;

It wavers when the stormy winds blow past,

Yet keeps its place like wisdom of the sage.

O humble light, thou beacon of the lost,

That shines though tempests gather in the night;

No earthly gale, however fierce its cost,

May wholly quench thy steadfast, gentle light.

Thus may it burn while weary travelers roam,

A sign that hearth and love await them home.

5. “A Soldier’s Petition”

O Lord of battles, hearken to my pray’r:

Bestow the fortitude my limbs would lack;

And when I march through tumult and despair,

Shield Thou my comrades pressing at my back.

If I should fall where foreign banners wave,

Let honor keep my memory from the grave.

6. “A Mariner’s Testament” (longer poem)

Full many years upon the briny deep

Have tossed my frame and stolen from me sleep;

The roaring main hath been my foe and friend,

Its ways uncharted, none may comprehend.

I’ve seen the morning gild the newborn wave,

I’ve seen the evening drown the daylight brave;

And oft I’ve thought, while drifting far from shore,

That man is but a guest, and nothing more.

Yet though my beard be white as ocean foam,

My soul still seeks the sea, its truest home;

For every tide that calls me forth again

Speaks with the voice of long-forgotten men.

7. “Verses in the Orchard Lane” (longer poem)

Beyond the battered gate, where branches lean,

There lies an orchard old in silvered green;

Its blossoms fall in whispers soft and low,

Like memories adrift from long ago.

There have I wandered in my tender youth,

There learned the early lessons of the truth;

And though the years have pressed their weight on me,

That orchard keeps its ancient constancy.

Return I shall, when age hath slowed my stride,

To walk once more where dreams and peace abide.

PART II — THE SOLDIER-POETS (Adapted Poems)

Seven Adapted Poems Inspired by the Voices of Ordinary 18th-Century Soldiers

1. “March Beneath the Burning Sky”

We marched beneath the burning sky,

The dust was thick, the air was dry;

Our boots grew heavy mile by mile,

Yet still we kept a steady style.

The captain’s voice was firm and clear,

He spoke of honor, not of fear;

And though the road was harsh and long,

His words became our marching song.

The sun sank low, the shadows spread,

We counted comrades, missed the dead;

But still we walked, for men must try

To rise, though all the world runs dry.

And when the night embraced the land,

We slept with muskets close at hand.

2. “Letters from the Field”

I wrote to you at end of day

When cannon smoke had cleared away;

The earth was torn, the sky was red,

And silence gathered for the dead.

My trembling hand could scarcely trace

The memory of your gentle face;

Yet still I wrote, for in the fight

Your name became my shield of light.

If ink should fade and pages tear,

Know every word was shaped by care.

For though the war may break my will,

My heart remembers you — and will.

3. “A Night Before Battle”