Юджин Ли-Гамильтон. Скачка дона Педро

Дон Педро неспешным аллюром скакал,
Вокруг озираясь вприщурку,
Только тут впереди с замираньем в груди
Он красивую видит фигурку.

А дама идет, на него не глядит,
Куда-то спешит деловито;
Грациозна она, и лодыжка стройна,
И лицо под вуалью укрыто.

Дон Педро галантен, как истинный дон:
Точеную видя лодыжку,
Он, коня шевеля, дал ему шенкеля
И за дамой погнался вприпрыжку.

Приемистый шаг у его жеребца,
Дон Педро спешит, вожделея,
Только даму рысак не догонит никак:
Та исчезла в тенистой аллее.

Вот он удивленно пришпорил коня,
Проулками скачет кривыми;
Конь почуял укол и на бег перешел,
Но всё дюжина ярдов меж ними!

Ленивая рысь превратилась в галоп,
Но Педро сомненье тревожит:
Все быстрее гоня, он торопит коня,
А за дамой угнаться не может.

Маячит соблазном она перед ним,
Помалу от скачки пьянея,
По холму, через дол он, запальчив и зол,
Ураганом несется за нею.

По рощам, лощинам, лугам и полям,
Мелькает за милею миля,
Через дол, по холму скачет он в полутьму -
Звезды солнце на небе сменили.

Летят города и деревни летят,
Он топчет не тучные всходы -
Под копытную дробь погружается в топь
Там, где плещутся темные воды.

"Настигну! Поймаю! Схвачу! Догоню!" -
Кричит он, неистов и бешен;
Стонет взмыленный конь, но безумства огонь
В доне с жаром отчаянья смешан.

Вот рядом она, показалось ему,
Разносится крик над болотом:
"Я догнал, наконец!" - а его жеребец
Уж кровавым окутался потом.

"Схватил!" - и по-прежнему мчится стремглав
По пустоши,  по бездорожью,
Но, подобно тюку, рухнул конь на скаку,
Околел с диким визгом и дрожью.

И тут повернулась беглянка к нему,
Кошмаром представ пред глазами:
Красавицы нет, только жуткий скелет,
Где струится холодное пламя.

THE RIDE OF DON PEDRO

Don Pedro was riding his horse at a walk,
Through the streets of an old Spanish city;
When, a little ahead, he perceived that there sped
A figure uncommonly pretty.

The lady appeared in a hurry to be,
For she looked not behind her nor tarried;
Nor too short, nor too tall, while her ankle was small,
And her veil she bewitchingly carried.

Now it chanced that, like many a brave cavalier,
For small ankles the Don had a weakness;
So he woke up his steed which was moving indeed
At a leisurely pace in its sleekness.

But, though long was the stride of the beautiful bay,
He stepped not as fast as the lady,
With her sweet little feet she took street after street,
Through the gates to an alley all shady.

Don Pedro then touched up his steed with his spur;
He trotted, but great was his wonder,
For fast though his trot he caught her up not:
Twelve yards ever kept them asunder!

He cantered; he galloped; O prodigy strange,
In spite of the horse's endeavour,
And hard though he whipped, ahead she still tripped,
No nearer he got to her ever.

No further, no nearer, she seemed than before,
Though the bounds of his horse were gigantic;
Over hill, over dale, with the speed of the gale,
He followed her ever more frantic.

Through cornfield and meadow, and forest and moor;
Over furrow, and heather, and shingle,
Over dale, over hill, she was luring him still,
When sunlight and starlight did mingle.

Past flew the villages, past flew the towns,
The cornfields no more did he ravage;
But through marshes he dashes where the water high splashes,
The country was lone and was savage.

"I'll reach her! I'll catch her!'' he shouted with rage,
"Though I ride to the end of creation!''
As he tore through the loam, from his horse flew the foam,
And he spurred with a wild desperation.

He thought he was gaining upon her at last;
"I've caught her, I've caught her!'' he shouted;
And he goaded his horse with his uttermost force
Till the blood from his nostrils was spouted.

"I hold her!'' he shouted, as wildly he dashed
Through the waterless bed of a river;
But his horse sudden sank, on his spur-reddened flank,
And died with a groan and a quiver.

Then only, the lady stopped short and turned round;
And the form he had thought to admire,
So graceful of limb, stood terrific and grim,
A skeleton filled with fire.