Интернет-журнал "Домашняя лаборатория", 2008 №1 - Журнал «Домашняя лаборатория»

_{From the bonny bells of heather}

_{They brewed a drink long-syne,}

_{Was sweeter far than honey,}

_{Was stronger far than wine.}

_{They brewed it and they drank it,}

_{And lay in a blessed swound}

_{For days and days together}

_{In their dwellings underground.}

_{There rose a king in Scotland,}

_{A fell man to his foes,}

_{He smote the Piets in battle,}

_{He hunted them like roes.}

_{Over miles of the red mountain}

_{He hunted as they fled,}

_{And strewed the dwarfish bodies}

_{Of the dying and the dead.}

_{Summer came in the country,}

_{Red was the heather bell;}

_{But the manner of the brewing}

_{Was none alive to tell.}

_{In graves that were like children's}

_{On many a mountain head,}

_{The Brewsters of the Heather}

_{Lay numbered with the dead.}

_{The king in the red moorland}

_{Rode on a summer's day;}

_{And the bees hummed, and the curlews}

_{Cried beside the way.}

_{The king rode, and was angry,}

_{Black was his brow and pale,}

_{To rule in a land of heather}

_{And lack the Heather Ale.}

_{It fortuned that his vassals,}

_{Riding free on the heath,}

_{Came on a stone that was fallen}

_{And vermin hid beneath.}

_{Rudely plucked from their hiding,}

_{Never a word they spoke:}

_{A son and his aged father —}

_{Last of the dwarfish folk.}

_{The king sat high on his charger,}

_{He looked on the little men;}

_{And the dwarfish and swarthy couple}

_{Looked at the king again.}

_{Down by the shore he had them;}

_{And there on the giddy brink —}

_{"I will give you life, ye vermin,}

_{For the secret of the drink."}

_{There stood the son and father}

_{And they looked high and low;}

_{The heather was red around them,}

_{The sea rumbled below.}

_{And up and spoke the father,}

_{Shrill was his voice to hear:}

_{"I have a word in private,}

_{A word for the royal ear.}

_{"Life is dear to the aged,}

_{And honour a little thing;}

_{I would gladly sell the secret,"}

_{Quoth the Piet to the King.}

_{His voice was small as a sparrow's,}

 _{And shrill and wonderful clear:}

_{"I would gladly sell my secret,}

_{Only my son I fear.}

_{"For life is a little matter,}

_{And death is nought to the young;}

_{And I dare not sell my honour}

_{Under the eye of my son.}

_{Take HIM, О king, and bind him,}

_{And cast him far in the deep;}

_{And it's I will tell the secret}

_{That I have sworn to keep."}

_{They took the son and bound him,}

_{Neck and heels in a thong,}

_{And a lad took him and swung him,}

_{And flung him far and strong,}

_{And the sea swallowed his body,}

_{Like that of a child of ten; —}

_{And there on the cliff stood the father,}

_{Last of the dwarfish men.}

_{"True was the word I told you:}

_{Only my son I feared;}

_{For I doubt the sapling courage}

_{That goes without the beard.}

_{But now in vain is the torture,}

_{Fire shall never avail:}

_{Here dies in my bosom}

_{The secret of Heather Ale."}

Из вереска напиток

Забыт давным-давно.

А был он слаще мёда,

Пьянее, чем вино.

В котлах его варили

И пили всей семьей

Малютки медовары

В пещерах под землей.

Пришел король шотландский.

Безжалостный к врагам,

Прижал он бедных пиктов

К скалистым берегам.

На вересковом поле,

На поле боевом

Лежал живой на мертвом

И мертвый — на живом.

Лето в стране настало,

Вереск опять цветет,

Но некому готовить

Вересковый мёд.

В своих могилках тесных,

В горах родной земли

Малютки медовары

Приют себе нашли.

Король по склону едет

Над морем на коне,

И рядом реют чайки

С дорогой наравне.

Король глядит угрюмо:

«Опять в краю моем

Цветет медвяный вереск,

А меда мы не пьем!»

Но вот его вассалы

Приметили двоих

Последних медоваров,

Оставшихся в живых.

Вышли они из-под камня,

Щурясь