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Презентация, доклад к творческому вечеру, посвященному Р.Л.Стивенсону
Содержание
- 1. Презентация к творческому вечеру, посвященному Р.Л.Стивенсону
- 2. Ро́берт Лью́ис Сти́венсон (1850-1894)
- 3. Слайд 3
- 4. Слайд 4
- 5. Слайд 5
- 6. Слайд 6
- 7. Слайд 7
- 8. Слайд 8
- 9. Слайд 9
- 10. From the bonny bells of heather
- 11. They brewed it and they drank it,And
- 12. There rose a king in Scotland,A fell man to his foes,
- 13. He smote the Picts in battle,He hunted them like roes
- 14. Over miles of the red mountainHe
- 15. Summer came in the country,Red was the
- 16. In graves that were like children’s
- 17. The king in the red moorland Rode on a summer’s day;
- 18. And the bees hummed, and the curlews Cried beside the way.
- 19. The king rode, and was angry,Black was
- 20. It fortuned that his vassals,Riding free on
- 21. Rudely plucked from their hiding,Never a word they spoke
- 22. A son and his aged father —Last of the dwarfish folk.
- 23. The king sat high on his charger,He
- 24. Down by the shore he had them;And
- 25. There stood the son and father,And they
- 26. And up and spoke the father,Shrill was
- 27. «Life is dear to the aged,And honour
- 28. His voice was small as a sparrow’s,And
- 29. «For life is a little matter,And death
- 30. Take him, O king, and bind him,And
- 31. They took the son and bound him,
- 32. And the sea swallowed his body,Like that
- 33. «True was the word I told you:Only
- 34. But now in vain is the torture,Fire
- 35. Слайд 35
- 36. Слайд 36
- 37. Слайд 37
- 38. Слайд 38
- 39. Thank you for your attention!
Ро́берт Лью́ис Сти́венсон (1850-1894)
Слайд 10From the bonny bells of heather
They brewed a drink long-syne,
Was
sweeter far then honey,
Was stronger far than wine.
Слайд 11They brewed it and they drank it,
And lay in a blessed
swound
For days and days together
In their dwellings underground.
Слайд 14 Over miles of the red mountain
He hunted as they fled,,
And
strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead
Of the dying and the dead
Слайд 15Summer came in the country,
Red was the heather bell;
But the manner
of the brewing
Was none alive to tell.
Was none alive to tell.
Слайд 16In graves that were like children’s
On many a mountain
head,
The Brewsters of the Heather
Lay numbered with the dead.
Слайд 19The king rode, and was angry,
Black was his brow and pale,
To
rule in a land of heather
And lack the Heather Ale.
And lack the Heather Ale.
Слайд 20It fortuned that his vassals,
Riding free on the heath,
Came on a
stone that was fallen
And vermin hid beneath.
And vermin hid beneath.
Слайд 23The king sat high on his charger,
He looked on the little
men;
And the dwarfish and swarthy couple
Looked at the king again.
Слайд 24Down by the shore he had them;
And there on the giddy
brink —
«I will give you life, ye vermin,
For the secret of the drink.»
Слайд 25There stood the son and father,
And they looked high and low;
The
heather was red around them,
The sea rumbled below.
The sea rumbled below.
Слайд 26And up and spoke the father,
Shrill was his voice to hear:
«I
have a word in private,
A word for the royal ear.
A word for the royal ear.
Слайд 27«Life is dear to the aged,
And honour a little thing;
I would
gladly sell the secret,»
Quoth the Pict to the king.
Quoth the Pict to the king.
Слайд 28His voice was small as a sparrow’s,
And shrill and wonderful clear:
«I
would gladly sell my secret,
Only my son I fear.
Only my son I fear.
Слайд 29«For life is a little matter,
And death is nought to the
young;
And I dare not sell my honour
Under the eye of my son.
Слайд 30Take him, O king, and bind him,
And cast him far in
the deep;
And it’s I will tell the secret
That I have sworn to keep.»
Слайд 31They took the son and bound him,
Neck and heels
in a thong,
And a lad took him and swung him,
And flung him far and strong,
Слайд 32And the sea swallowed his body,
Like that of a child of
ten; —
And there on the cliff stood the father,
Last of the dwarfish men.
Слайд 33«True was the word I told you:
Only my son I feared;
For
I doubt the sapling courage
That goes without the beard.
That goes without the beard.
Слайд 34But now in vain is the torture,
Fire shall never avail:
Here dies
in my bosom
The secret of Heather Ale.»
The secret of Heather Ale.»
