Annexe II
p. 399-400
Texte intégral
“The Drowned Man of Esthwaite”
Version de 1805 (Prelude V, v. 450-481)
| Well do I call to mind the very week | 450 |
| When I was first entrusted to the care | |
| Of that sweet valley — when its paths, its shores | |
| And brooks, were like a dream of novelty | |
| To my half-infant thoughts — that very week, | |
| While I was roving up and down alone | 455 |
| Seeking I knew not what, I chanced to cross | |
| One of those open fields, which, shaped like ears, | |
| Make green peninsulas on Esthwaite’s Lake. | |
| Twilight was coming on, yet through the gloom | |
| I saw distinctly on the opposite shore | 460 |
| A heap of garments, left as I supposed | |
| By one who there was bathing. Long I watched, | |
| But no one owned them ; meanwhile the calm lake | |
| Grew dark, with all the shadows on its breast, | |
| And now and then a fish up-leaping snapped | 465 |
| The breathless stillness. The succeeding day — | |
| Those unclaimed garments telling a plain tale — | |
| Went there a company, and in their boat | |
| Sounded with grappling-irons and long poles : | |
| At length, the dead man, ‘mid that beauteous scene | 470 |
| Of trees and hills and water, bolt upright | |
| Rose with his ghastly face, a spectre shape — | |
| Of terror even. And yet no vulgar fear, | |
| Young as I was, a child not nine years old, | |
| Possessed me, for my inner eye had seen | 475 |
| Such sights before among the shining streams | |
| Of fairyland, the forests of romance — | |
| Thence came a spirit hallowing what I saw | |
| With decoration and ideal grace, | |
| A dignity, a smoothness, like the words | 480 |
| Of Grecian art and purest Poesy. |
Version de 1850 (Prelude V, v. 426-459)
| Well do I call to mind the very week | |
| When I was first intrusted to the care | |
| Of that sweet Valley ; when its paths, its shores, | |
| And brooks were like a dream of novelty | |
| To my half-infant thoughts ; that very week, | 430 |
| While I was roving up and down alone, | |
| Seeking I knew not what, I chanced to cross | |
| One of those open fields, which, shaped like ears, | |
| Make green peninsulas on Esthwaite’s Lake : | |
| Twilight was coming on, yet through the gloom | 435 |
| Appeared distinctly on the opposite shore | |
| A heap of garments, as if left by one | |
| Who might have there been bathing. Long I watched, | |
| But no one owned them ; meanwhile the calm lake | |
| Grew dark with all the shadows on its breast, | 440 |
| And, now and then, a fish up-leaping snapped | |
| The breathless stillness. The succeeding day, | |
| Those unclaimed garments telling a plain tale | |
| Drew to the spot an anxious crowd ; some looked | |
| In passive expectation from the shore, | 445 |
| While from a boat others hung o’er the deep, | |
| Sounding with grappling irons and long poles. | |
| At last, the dead man, ‘mid that beauteous scene | |
| Of trees and hills and water, bolt upright | |
| Rose, with his ghastly face, a spectre shape | 450 |
| Of terror ; yet no soul-debasing fear, | |
| Young as I was, a child not nine years old, | |
| Possessed me, for my inner eye had seen | |
| Such sights before, among the shining streams | |
| Of faery land, the forest of romance. | 455 |
| Their spirit hallowed the sad spectacle | |
| With decoration of ideal grace ; | |
| A dignity, a smoothness, like the works | |
| Of Grecian art, and purest poesy. |
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