Шумит кустарник… На утес (Скотт; Пушкин)

I 1The Stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan’s rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney’s hazel shade; 5But, when the sun his beacon red Had kindled on Benvoirlich’s head, The deep-mouthed blood-hound’s heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way, And faint, from farther distance borne, 10Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. Строфа особенно важная: II 1As chief who hears his warder call, «To arms! the foemen storm the wall», The antler’d monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 5But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook; Like crested leader proud and high, Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed adown the dale, 127 10A moment snuffed the tainted gale, A moment listen’d to the cry, That thickened as the chace drew nigh; Then, as the headmost foes appeared With one brave bound the copse he cleared 15And, stretching forward free and far, 16Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var.1 а далее: V 1The noble Stag was pausing now, Upon the mountain’s southern brow, Where broad extended, far beneath, The varied realms of fair Menteith. 5With anxious eye he wander’d o’er Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, And pondered refuge from his toil, By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. But nearer was the copse-wood gray, 10That waved and wept on Loch-Achray, And mingled with the pine-trees blue On the bold cliffs of Ben-venue. Fresh vigour with the hope returned, With flying foot the heath he spurned, 15Held westward with unwearied race, 16And left behind the panting chase.