Автор: | Киплинг Д. Р. |
Категория: | Стихотворение |
THE SONG OF THE CITIES
BOMBAY
Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen |
Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands - |
A thousand mills roar through me where I glean |
All races from all lands. |
CALCUTTA
Me the Sea-captain loved, the River built, |
Wealth sought and Kings adventured life to hold. |
Hail, England! I am Asia - Power on silt, |
Death in my hands, but Gold! |
MADRAS
Clive kissed me on the mouth and eyes and brow, |
Wonderful kisses, so that I became |
Crowned above Queens - a withered beldame now, |
Brooding on ancient fame. |
RANGOON
Hail, Mother! Do they call me rich in trade? |
Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone, |
And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid, |
Laugh ’neath my Shwe Dagon. |
SINGAPORE
Hail, Mother! East and West must seek my aid |
The second doorway of the wide world’s trade |
Is mine to loose or bar. |
HONG-KONG
Hail, Mother! Hold me fast; my Praya sleeps |
Under innumerable keels to-day. |
Yet guard (and landward), or to-morrow sweeps |
Thy warships down the bay! |
HALIFAX
Into the mist my guardian prows put forth, |
Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie, |
The Warden of the Honour of the North, |
Sleepless and veiled am I! |
QUEBEC AND MONTREAL
Peace is our portion. Yet a whisper rose, |
Foolish and causeless, half in jest, half hate. |
Now wake we and remember mighty blows, |
And, fearing no man, wait! |
VICTORIA
From East to West the circling word has passed, |
Till West is East beside our land-locked blue; |
From East to West the tested chain holds fast, |
The well-forged link rings true! |
CAPETOWN
I dream my dream, by rock and heath and pine, |
Of Empire to the northward. Ay, one land |
From Lion’s Head to Line! |
MELBOURNE
Greeting! Nor fear nor favour won us place, |
Got between greed of gold and dread of drouth, |
Loud-voiced and reckless as the wild tide-race |
That whips our harbour-mouth! |
SYDNEY
Greeting! My birth-stain have I turned to good; |
Forcing strong wills perverse to steadfastness: |
The first flush of the tropics in my blood, |
And at my feet Success! |
BRISBANE
The northern stock beneath the southern skies - |
I build a Nation for an Empire’s need, |
Suffer a little, and my land shall rise, |
Queen over lands indeed! |
HOBART
Man’s love first found me; man’s hate made me Hell; |
For my babes’ sake I cleansed those infamies. |
God flung me peace and ease. |
Last, loneliest, loveliest, exquisite, apart - |
On us, on us the unswerving season smiles, |
’mid our fern why men depart |
To seek the Happy Isles! |