Оригинал на английском:
64. Listen to the poems (No 15, 16) and say what their messages are.
Upon Westminster Bridge
by William Wordsworth
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This city now doth1 like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er2 saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth2 at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Venice
by Samuel Rogers
There is a glorious City in the Sea,
The Sea is the broad, the narrow streets,
Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed Clings to the marble of her palaces.
No track of men, no footsteps to and fro,
Lead to her gates. The path lies o’er1 the Sea,
Invisible; and from the land we went,
As to a floating City — steering in,
And gliding up her streets as in a dream,
So smoothly, silently — by many a dome Mosque-like, and many a stately portico,
The statues ranged along an azure sky;
By many a pile in more than eastern splendour,
Of old the residence of merchant-kings;
The fronts of some, though time had shattered them,
Still glowing with the richest hues of art,
As though the wealth within them had run o’er.
1-'o'er = over
Upon Westminster Bridge
by William Wordsworth
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This city now doth1 like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er2 saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth2 at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Venice
by Samuel Rogers
There is a glorious City in the Sea,
The Sea is the broad, the narrow streets,
Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed Clings to the marble of her palaces.
No track of men, no footsteps to and fro,
Lead to her gates. The path lies o’er1 the Sea,
Invisible; and from the land we went,
As to a floating City — steering in,
And gliding up her streets as in a dream,
So smoothly, silently — by many a dome Mosque-like, and many a stately portico,
The statues ranged along an azure sky;
By many a pile in more than eastern splendour,
Of old the residence of merchant-kings;
The fronts of some, though time had shattered them,
Still glowing with the richest hues of art,
As though the wealth within them had run o’er.
1-'o'er = over