11. Актуалізуйте знання, отримані на лекціях та семінарах (ключові терміни виділені жирним шрифтом). Визначте тип рими, тропи та фігури.

For when it dawned-they dropped

their arms,

And clustered round the mast;

Sweet sounds rose slowly through

their mouths,

And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet

sound,

Then darted to the Sun;

Slowly the sounds came back again,

Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky

I heard the sky-lark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are,

Now they seemed to fill the sea and air

With their sweet jargoning!

And now 'twas like all instruments,

Now like a lonely flute;

And now it is an angel's song,

That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on

A pleasant noise till noon,

A noise like of a hidden brook

In the leaty month of June,

That to the sleeping woods all night

Singeth a quiet tune.

(S.T. Coleridge)

13. Актуалізуйте знання, отримані на лекціях та семінарах (ключові терміни виділені жирним шрифтом). Визначте тип рими, тропи та фігури.

She walks in beauty - like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies,

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to the tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress

Or softly lightens o'er her face -

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow

So soft, so calm yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow

But tell of days in goodness spent

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent. (G. Byron)

14. Актуалізуйте знання, отримані на лекціях та семінарах (ключові терміни виділені жирним шрифтом). Визначте тип рими, тропи та фігури.

Ulalume

The skies they were ashen and sober;

The leaves they were crisped and sere-

The leaves they were withering and sere;

It was night in the lonesome October

Of my most immemorial year:

It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,

In the misty mid region of Weir--

It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,

In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic,

Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul--

Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.

These were days when my heart was volcanic

As the scoriac rivers that roll--

As the lavas that restlessly roll

Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek

In the ultimate climes of the pole--

That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek

In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,

But our thoughts they were palsied and sere--

Our memories were treacherous and sere,--

For we knew not the month was October,

And we marked not the night of the year

(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)--

We noted not the dim lake of Auber

(Though once we had journeyed down here)--

Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,

Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

And now, as the night was senescent

And star-dials pointed to morn--

As the star-dials hinted of morn--

At the end of our path a liquescent

And nebulous lustre was born,

Out of which a miraculous crescent

Arose with a duplicate horn--

Astarte's bediamonded crescent

Distinct with its duplicate horn <…>

(E. Poe)

15. Актуалізуйте знання, отримані на лекціях та семінарах (ключові терміни виділені жирним шрифтом). Визначте основні жанрові ознаки поеми. Поясніть, чому поема Дж. Г. Байрона «Паломництво Чайльд Гарольда» належить до тих творів, які руйнують усталені межі жанрів. Проаналізуйте строфи 2-13. Спробуйте визначити ознаки посилення ліричного начала. Зверніть увагу на особливості художнього перекладу.

ІІ Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth, Who ne in Virtue's ways did take delight; But spent his days in riot most uncouth, And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night. Ah me! in sooth he was a shameless wight, Sore given to revel, and ungodly glee; Few earthly things found favour in his sight Save concubines and carnal companie, And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree. ІІІ Childe Harold was he hight: -- but whence his name And lineage long, it suits me not to say <...> IV Childe Harold basked him in the Noontide sun, Disporting there like any other fly; Nor deemed before his little day was done One blast might chill him into misery. But long ere scarce a third of his passed by, Worse than Adversity the Childe befell; He helt the fulness of Satiety: Then loathed he his native land to dwell, Which seemed to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell. V For he through Sin's long labirinth had run, Nor made atonement when he did amiss, Had sighed to many though he loved but one, And that loved one, alas! could ne'er be his <...> VI And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, And from his fellow Bacchanals would flee; Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, But Pride congealed the drop within his ее: Apart he stalked in joyless reverie, And from his native land resolvet to go, And visit scorching climes beyond the sea; With plesure drugged, he almost longed for moe, And e'en for change of scene would i seek the shades below. VIII Yet oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's brow, As if the Memory of sone deadly feud Or disappointed passion lurked below: But this none knew, nor haply cared to know; For his was not that open, artless soul That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow, Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole, Whate'er this grief mote be, which he could not control. IX And none did love him! <...> XII His house, his home, his heritage, his lands, The laughing dames in whom he did delight, Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands, Might shake the Saintship of an Anchorite, And long had fed his youthful appetite; His goblets brimmed with every costly wine, And all that mote to luxury invite, Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine, And traverse Paynim shores, and pass Earth's central line.	2 Жил в Альбионе юноша. Свой век Он посвящал лишь развлеченьям праздным. В безумной жажде радостей и нег Распутством не гнушаясь безобразным, Душою предан низменным соблазнам, Но равно чужд и чести и стыду, Он в мире возлюбил многообразном -- Увы! -- лишь кратких связей череду Да собутыльников веселую орду. 3 Он звался Чайльд Гарольд. Не все равно ли, Каким он вел блестящим предкам счет! <...> 4 Вступая в девятнадцатый свой год, Как мотылек, резвился он, порхая, Не помышлял о том, что день пройдет И холодом повеет тьма ночная. Но вдруг, в расцвете жизненного мая, Заговорило пресыщенье в нем, Болезнь ума и сердца роковая, И показалось мерзким все кругом: Тюрьмою -- родина, могилой -- отчий дом. 5 Он совести не знал укоров строгих И слепо шел дорогою страстей. Любил одну -- прельщал любовью многих, Любил, но не назвал ее своей. 6 Но в сердце Чайльд глухую боль унес, И наслаждений жажда в нем остыла, И часто блеск его внезапных слез Лишь гордость уязвленная гасила. Меж тем тоски язвительная сила Звала покинуть край, где вырос он, -- Чужих небес приветствовать светила; Он звал печаль, весельем пресыщен, Готов был в ад бежать, чтоб бросить Альбион. 8 Но часто в блеске, в шуме людных зал Лицо Гарольда муку выражало. Отвергнутую страсть он вспоминал Иль чувствовал вражды смертельной жало -- Ничье живое сердце не узнало. Ни с кем не вел он дружеских бесед. Когда смятенье душу омрачало, В часы раздумий, в дни сердечных бед Презреньем он встречал сочувственный совет. 9 И в мире был он одинок. <...> 12 Наследство, дом, поместья родовые, Прелестных дам, чей смех он так любил, Чей синий взор, чьи локоны златые В нем часто юный пробуждали пыл -- Здесь даже и святой бы согрешил, -- Вином бесценным полные стаканы -- Все то, чем роскошь радует кутил, Он променял на ветры и туманы, На рокот южных волн и варварские страны. Переклад В. Лєвіка

16. Актуалізуйте знання, отримані на лекціях та семінарах (ключові терміни виділені жирним шрифтом). Визначте основні жанрові ознаки балади. Ознайомтесь з оригінальним текстом англійської середньовічної фольклорної балади. Порівняйте текст оригіналу з двома варіантами перекладу. Доведіть, що відповідні тексти належать до жанру балади.

THE TWA CORBIES

As I was walking all alane,

I heard twa corbies making a mane;

The tane unto the t'other say,

«Where sail we gang and dine today?»

«In behint you auld fail dyke,

I wot there lies a new slain knight;

And naebody kens that he lies there.

But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

«His hound is to the hunting gane,

His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,

His lady's ta'en another mate,

So we may mak our dinner sweet.

«Ye» I'll sit on his white hause-bane,

And I'll pike out his bonny blue enn;

Wi ae lock о his gowden hair

We 'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

Mony a one for him makes mane,

But nane sail ken where he is gane;

Oer his white banes, when they are bare,

The wind sail blaw for evermair».

Ворон к ворону летит,

Ворон ворону кричит:

«Ворон, где б нам отобедать?

Как бы нам о том проведать?»

Ворон ворону в ответ:

«Знаю, будет нам обед;

В чистом поле под ракитой

Богатырь лежит убитый.

Кем убит и отчего,

Знает сокол лишь его,

Да кобылка вороная,

Да хозяйка молодая».

Сокол в рощу улетел,

На кобылку недруг сел,

А хозяйка ждет милого,

Не убитого, живого.

Переклад О.С. Пушкіна

ТРИ ВОРОНА

Три ворона сидели в ряд -

И черен был у них наряд.

Спросил один неторопливо:

- Где нынче будет нам пожива?

- Вон там, на берегу крутом

Убитый рыцарь под щитом.

Да свора верная его

Не подпускает никого,

Да соколы его кружат

И тело зорко сторожат.

Приходит дева молодая.

Главу его приподнимая,

Целует тихо и светло

Окровавленное чело.

Над мертвым прочитав молитвы,

Его уносит с поля битвы,

И скорбно в землю зарывает,

И на могиле умирает.

Дай, бог, таких нам похорон,

И псов, и соколов, и жен!

Переклад С.Стєпанова

17. Пригадайте, які художні засоби може використовувати автор, характеризуючи персонажа. Перекладіть уривки з текстів, які наведені нижче, та визначте художні засоби.

The human figures which completed this landscape were in number two, partaking, in their dress and appearance, of that wild and rustic character which belonged to the woodlands of the West Riding of Yorkshire at that early period. The eldest of these men had a stern, savage, and wild aspect. His garment was of the simplest form imaginable, being a close jacket with sleeves, composed of the tanned skin of some animal, on which the hair had been originally left, but which had been worm off in so many places that it would have been difficult to distinguish, form the patches that remained, to what creature the fur belonged. This primeval vestment reached from the throat to the knees, and served at once all the usual purposes of bodyclothing; there was no wider opening at the collar than was necessary to admit the passage of the head, from which it may be inferred that it was put on by slipping it over the head and shoulders, in the manner of a modern shirt, or ancient hauberk. Sandals, bound with thongs made of boar's hide, protected the feen, and a roll of thin leather was twined artificially round the legs, and ascending above the calf, left the knees bare, like those of a Scottish Highlander. To make the jacket sit yet more close to the body, it was gatnered at the middle by a broad leathern belt, secured by a brass buckle; to one side of which was attached a sort of scrip, and to the other aram's horn, accoutred with amouthpiece, for the purpose of blowing. In the same belt was stuck one of those long, broad, sharp-pointed, and twoedged knives, with a buck's-horn handle, which were fabricated in the neighbourhood, and bore even at this early period the name of a Sheffield whittle. The man had no covering upon his head, which was only defended by his own thick hair, matted and twisted together, and scorched by the influence of the sun into a rusty dark-red colour, forming a contrast with the overgrown beard upon his cheeks, which was rather of a yellow or amber hue. One part of his dress only remains, but it is too remarkable to be suppressed; it was a brass ring, resembling a dog's collar, but without any opening, and soldered fast round his neck, so loose as to form no impediment to his breathing, yet so tight as to be incapable of being removed, excepting by the use of the file. On this singular gorget was engraved, in Saxon characters, an insription of the followong purport: «Gurth, the son of Beowulph, is the born thrall of Cedric of Rotherwood».

(W. Scott)

-- Thou dost me injustice, -- said the Templar. -- By eart, sea, and sky, thou dost me injustice! I am not naturally that which you have seen me -- hard, selfish, and relentless. It was women that taught me cruelty, and on women therefore I have excercised it; but not upon such as thou. Hear me, Rebecca. Never did knight take lance in his hand with a hear more devoted to the lady of his love that Brian de Bois-Guilbert. She, the daughter of a petty baron, who boasted for all his domains but a ruinous tower and an unproductive vineyard, and some few leagues of the barren Landes of Bourdeaux, her name was known wherever deds of arms were done, known wider than that of many a lady's that had a county for a dowry. Yes, he continued, pacing up and down the little platform, with an animacion in which be seemed to lose all consciousness of Rebecca's presence -- yes, my deeds, my danger, my blood made the name of Adelaide de Montemare known from the court of Castile to that of Byzantium. And how was I required? When I returned with my dear-bought honours, purchased by toil and blood, I found her wedded to a Gascon squire, whose name was never heard beyond the limits of his own paltry domain! Truly did I love her, and bitterly did I revenge me of her broken faith!

(W. Scott)

Dombey was about eight-and-forty years of age. Son about eight-and-forty minutes. Dombey was rather bald, rather red, and though a handsome well-made man, too stern and pompous in appearance, to be prepossessing. Son was very bald, and very red, and though (of course) an undeniably fine infant, somewhat crushed and spotty in his general effect, as yet. On the brow of Dombey, Time and his brother Care had set some marks, as on a tree that was to come down in good time -- remorseless twins they are for striding through their human forests, notching as they go -- while the countenance of Son was crossed with a thousand little creases, which the same deceitful Time would take delight in smoothing out and wearing away with the flat part of his scythe, as a preparation of the surface for his deeper operations.

(Ch. Dickens)

The candles lighted up Lord Steyne's shining bald head, which was fringed with red hair. He had thick bushy eyebrows, with little twinkling bloodshot eyes, surrounded by a thousand wrinkles. His jaw was underhung, and when he laughed, two white buckteeth protruded themselves and glistened savagely in the midst of the grin.

(W.M. Thackeray)

For she could not only sing like a lark, or a Mrs Billington, and dance like Hillisberg or Parisot; and embroider beautifully; and spell as well as a Dixonary itself; but she had such a kindly, smiling, tender, gentle, generous heart of her own, as won the love of everybody who came near her, from Minerva herself down to the poor girl in the scullery and the one-eyed tart-woman's daughter who was permitted to vend her wares once a week to the young ladies in the Mall.

...There is no harm in saying, at the outset of our acquaintance, that she was a dear little creature; and a great mercy it is, both in life and in novels, which (and the latter especially) abound in villains of the most sombre sort, that we are to have for a constant companion so guileless and good-natured a person. As she is not a heroine, there is no need to describe her person; indeed I am afraid that her nose was rather short than otherwise, and her cheeks a great deal too round and red for a heroine; but her face blushed with rosy health, and her lips with the freshest of smiles, and she had a pair of eyes which sparkled with the brightest and honestest good-humour, except indeed when they filled with tears, and that was a great deal too often; for the silly thing would cry over a dead canary-bird; or over a mouse, that the cat haply had seized upon; or over the end of a novel, were it ever so stupid; and as for saying an unkind word to her, were any persons hardhearted enough to do so -- why, so much the worse for them.

(W.M. Thackeray)

18. Прочитайте оповідання Е. Хемінгуея «Кішка під дощем». Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Проаналізуйте експозицію твору. Яке значення має художній простір та час дії? Зверніть увагу, як автор від загального опису переходить до цьогохвилинного сюжетного теперішнього. Чи такий перехід сприяє створенню певного настрою?

2. Які непрямі деталі оповіді формують враження нудного осіннього дня?

3. Яку додаткову інформацію несуть постійно повторювані автором слова «cat», «rain», «I want»?

4. Інтерпретуйте назву оповідання. Які приховані узагальнення містить назва?

5. В чому полягає глибинний підтекст твору. За допомогою яких засобів він формується?

Ernest Hemingway

Cat in the rain

There were only two Americans at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs to their room. Their room was on the second floor facing the sea. It also faced the public garden and the war monument. There were big palms and green benches in the public garden. In the good weather there was always an artist with his easel. Artists liked the way the palms grew and the bright colours of the hotels facing the gardens and the sea. Italians came from a long way off to look up at the war monument. It was made of bronze and glistened in the rain. It was raining. The rain dripped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain and slipped back down the beach to come up and break again in a long line in the rain.

The motor-cars were gone from the square by the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the cafe a waiter stood looking out at the empty square.

The American wife stood at the window looking out. Outside right under their window a cat was crouched under one of the dripping green tables. The cat was trying to make herself so compact that she would not be dripped on.

"I'm going down and get that kitty," the American wife said.

"I'll do it," her husband offered from the bed.

'No, I'll get it. The poor kitty out trying to keep dry under a table.'

The husband went on reading, lying propped up with the two pillows at the foot of the bed.

"Don't get wet," he said.

The wife went downstairs and the hotel owner stood up and bowed to her as she passed the office. He was an old man and very tall.

"II piove," the wife said. She liked the hotel-keeper.

"Si, si, Signora, brutto tempo. It's very bad weather."

He stood behind his desk in the far end of the dim room. The wife liked him. She liked the deadly serious way he received any complaints. She liked his dignity. She liked the way he wanted to serve her. She liked the way he felt about being a hotel-keeper. She liked his old, heavy face and big hands.

Liking him she opened the door and looked out. It was raining harder. Д man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the cafe. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along under the eaves. As she stood in the doorway an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room.

"You must not get wet," she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her.

With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.

"Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?"

"There was a cat," said the American girl.

"A cat?"

"Si,ilgatto."

"A cat?" the maid laughed. "A cat in the rain?"

"Yes," she said, "under the table. "Then, "Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty."

When she talked English the maid's face tightened.

"Come, Signora," she said. "We must get back inside. You will be wet."

"I suppose so," said the American girl.

They went back along the gravel path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the American girl passed the office, the padrone bowed from his desk. Something felt very small and tight inside the girl. The padrone made her feel very small and at the same time really important. She had a momentary feeling of being of supreme importance. She went on up the stairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed, reading.

"Did you get the cat?" he asked, putting the book down.

"It was gone."

"Wonder where it went to?" he said, resting his eyes from reading.

She sat down on the bed.

"I wanted it so much," she said. "I don't know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isn't any fun to be a poor kitty out in the rain!"

George was reading again.

She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing-table looking at herself with the hand glass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?" she asked, looking at her profile again.

George looked up and saw the back of her neck, clipped close like a boy's.

"I like it the way it is."

"I get so tired of it," she said. "I get so tired of looking like a boy."

George shifted his position in the bed. He hadn't looked away from her since she started to speak.

"You look pretty darn nice," he said.

She laid the mirror down on the dresser and went over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark.

"I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel," she said. "I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and pun-when I stroke her."

"Yeah?" George said from the bed.

"And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes."

"Oh, shut up and get something to read," George said. He was reading again.

His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the palm trees

"Anyway, I want a cat," she said. "I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can't have long hair or any fun, I can have a cat."

George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window where the light had come on in the square.

Someone knocked at the door. "Avanti," George said. He looked up from his book.

In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big tortoise-shell cat pressed tight against her and swung down against her body.

"Excuse me," she said, "the padrone asked me to bring this for the Signora."

19. Проаналізуйте вірш Дж. Г. Байрона «Моєму синові». Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Яке значення має назва вірша? Чи сприяє вона створенню певного очікування від твору? Чи можлива автобіографічна інтерпретація даної поезії? Що відомо вам про сина Байрона?

2. Як змальовується у вірші портрет дитини? Наведіть портретні деталі, визначте їх функції?

3. Визначте засоби характеристики ліричного героя. Якими є особливості його світовідчуття?

4. Якими додатковими мотивами супроводжується у вірші тема батьківства?

5.Визначте часо-просторову структуру вірша? Які просторові образи з`являються у творі? Яким зображується світське середовище?

6. За допомогою яких засобів у вірші відтворюється образ померлої коханої ліричного героя?

George Gordon Byron

To My Son

Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue

Bright as thy mother's in their hue;

Those rosy lips, whose dimples play

And smile to steal the heart away,

Recall a scene of former joy,

And touch thy father's heart, my Boy!

And thou canst lisp a father's name -

Ah, William, were thine own the same, -

No self-reproach - but, let me cease -

My care for thee shall purchase peace;

Thy mother's shade shall smile in joy,

And pardon all the past, my Boy!

Her lowly grave the turf has prest,

And thou hast known a stranger's breast;

Derision sneers upon thy birth,

And yields thee scarce a name on earth;

Yet shall not these one hope destroy, -

A Father's heart is thine, my Boy!

Why, let the world unfeeling frown,

Must I fond Nature's claims disown?

Ah, no - though moralists reprove,

I hail thee, dearest child of Love,

Fair cherub, pledge of youth and joy -

A Father guards thy birth, my Boy!

Oh,'twill be sweet in thee to trace,

Ere Age has wrinkled o'er my face,

Ere half my glass of life is run,

At once a brother and a son;

And all my wane of years employ

In justice done to thee, my Boy!

Although so young thy heedless sire,

Youth will not damp parental fire;

And, wert thou still less dear to me,

While Helen's form revives in thee,

The breast, which beat to former joy,

Will ne'er desert its pledge, my Boy!

20. Прочитайте уривок з драми Б. Шоу «Пігмаліон». Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Визначте загальні особливості драматургічного роду літератури. Якими є особливості розкриття характеру персонажа в драмі? Чим драматургічні засоби характеротворення відрізняються від епічних та ліричних?

2. Визначте форми присутності авторського слова в драмі. Зверніть увагу на характер авторських ремарок в наведеному уривку. Яким чином вони формують уявлення про героїв?

3. Доведіть, що одним з засобів характеротворення є мова персонажів. В чому виявляється індивідуалізація мови Елізи, Хіггінса, Пікерінга?

4. Яку функцію виконують речі (носова хустина, рукав)? Доведіть, що звернення до предмета є засобом психологізму.

5. Визначте всі засоби психологізму, які допомагають виявленню авторського ставлення до героїв.

Bernard Shaw

Pygmalion

The flower girl enters in state. She has a hat with three ostrich feathers, orange, sky-blue, and red. She has a nearly clean apron, and the shoddy coat has been tidied a little. The pathos of this deplorable figure, with its innocent vaniti and consequential air, touches Pickering, who has already straightened himself in the presence of Mrs. Pearce. But as to Higgins the only distinction he makes between men and women is that when he is neither bullying nor exclaiming to the heavens against some featherweight cross, he coaxes women as a child coaxes its nurse when it wants to get anything out of her.

Higgins [brusquely, recognizing her with unconcealed disappointment, and at once, babylike, making an intolerable grievance of it] Why, this is the girl I jotted down last night. Shes no use: Ive got all the records I want of the Lisson Grove lingo; and I'm not going to waste another cylinder on it. [To the girl] Be off with you: I dont want you.

The Flower Girl. Dont you be so saucy. You aint heard what I come for yet. [To Mrs. Pearce, who is waiting at the door for further instruction] Did you tell him I come in a taxi?

Mrs. Pearce. Nonsense, girl! what do you think a gentleman like Mr. Higgins cares what you came in?

The Flower Girl. Oh, we are proud! He aint above giving lessons, not him: I heard him say so. Well. I aint come here to ask for any compliment; and if my money's not good enough I can go elsewhere.

Higgins. Good enough for what?

The flower Girl. Good enough for ye-oo. Now you know, dont you? I'm come to have lessons, I am. And to pay for em too: make no mistake.

Higgins [stupent] Well!!! [Recovering his breath with a gasp] What do you expect me to say to you?

The Flower Girl. Well, if you was a gentleman, you might ask me to sit down, I think. Dont 1 tell you I'm bringing you business?

Higgins. Pickering: shall we ask this baggage to sit down or shall we throw her out of the window?

The Flower Girl [running away in terror to the piano, where she turns at bay] Ah-ah-ah-ow-ow-ow-oo! [Wounded and whimpering] I wont be called a baggage when Ive offered to pay like any lady.

Motionless, the two men stare at her from the other side of the room, amazed.

Pickering [gently] What is it you want, my girl?

The Flower Girl. I want to be a lady in a flower shop stead of selling at the corner of Tottenham Court Road. But they wont take me unless 1 can talk more genteel, lie said he could teach me. Well, here 1 am ready to pay him --not asking any favor--and he treats me as if I was dirt.

Mrs. Pearce. How can you be such a foolish ignorant girl as to think you could afford to pay Mr. Higgins?

The Flower Girl. Why shouldni І? і know what lessons cost as well as you do; and I'm ready to pay.

Higgins. How much?

The Flower Girl [coming back to him, triumphant] Now youre talking' I thought youd come off it when you saw a chance of getting back a bit of what you chucked at me last night. [Confidentially] Youd had a drop in, hadnt you?

Higgins [peremptorily] Sit down.

The Flower Girl. Oh, if youre going to make a compliment of it -

Higgins [thundering at her] Sit down.

Mrs. Pearce [severely] Sit down, girl. Do as youre told. [She places the stray chair near the hearthrug between Higgins and Pickering, and stands behind it waiting for the giri to sit down].

The Flower Girl. Ah-ah-ah-ow-ow-oo! [She stands, half rebellious, half bewildered].

Pickering [very courteous] Wont you sit down?

Liza [coyly] Dont mind if 1 do. [She sits down. Pickering returns to the hearthrug].

Higgins. Whats your name?

The Flower Girl. Liza Doolittle.

Higgins [declaiming gravely]

Eliza, Elizabeth, Betsy and Bess

They went to the woods to get a bird nes`:

Pickering. They found a nest with four egg in it:

Higgins. They took one apiece and left three in it.

They laugh heartily at their own wit.

IA za. Oh, d out be sill у

Mrs Pearce. You mustnt speak to the gentleman like that.

Liza. Well, why wont he speak sensible to me?

Higgins. Come back to business. How much do you propose to pay me for the lessons?

Liza. Oh, I know whats right. Л lady friend of mine gets French lessons for eighteenpence an hour from a real French gentleman. Well, you wouldnt have the face to ask me the same for teaching me my own language as you would for French; so I wont give more than a shilling. Take it or leave it.

Higgins [walking up and down the room, rattling his keys and his cash in his pockets] You know, Pickering, if you consider a shilling, not as a simple shilling, but as a percentage of this girl's income, it works out as fully equivalent to sixty or seventy guineas from a millionaire.

Pickering. How so?

Higgins. Figure it out. A millionaire has about Ј150 a day She earns about half-a-crown.

Liza [haughtily] Who told you I only -

Higgins. [continuing] She offers me two-fifths of her day's income for a lesson. Two-fifths of a millionaire's income for a day would be somewhere about Ј60. it's handsome. By George, it's enormous! it's the biggest offer ! ever had.

Liza [rising, terrified] Sixty pounds! What are you talking about? І never offered you sixty pounds. Where would І get -

Higgins. Hold your tongue.

Liza [weeping] But 1 aint got sixty pounds. Oh -

Mrs. Pearce. Dont cry. you silly girl. Sit down. Nobody is going to touch your money.

Higgins. Somebody is going to touch you, with a broomstick, if you dont stop snivelling. Sit down.

Liza [obeying siowiy] Ah-ah-ah-ow-oo-o! One would til ink you was my father.

Higgins. If 1 decide to teach you, I'll be worse than two fathers to you. Here [Tie offers her his silk handkerchief]!

Liza. Wbats this for?

Higgins. To wipe your eyes. To wipe any part of your face that feels moist. Remember: thats your handkerchief; and thats your sleeve. Dont mistake the one for the other if you wish to become a lady in a shop.

Liza, utterly bewildered, stares helplessly at him

Mrs. Pearce. It's no use talking to her like that, Mr. Higgins; she doesnt understand you. Besides, youre quite wrong: she doesnt do it that way at all [she takes the handkerchief]

Liza [snatching it] Here' You give me that handkerchief He give it to me, not to you.

Pickering [laughing] lie did. I think it must be regarded as her property. Mrs Pearce.

Mrs. Pearce [resigning herself] Serve you right. Mr. Higgins.

Pickering. Higgins: I'm interested. What about the ambassador's garden party? I'll say youre the greatest teacher alive if you make that good. I'll bet you all the expenses of the experiment you cant do it. And I'll pay for the lessons.

Liza. Oh, you are real good. Thank you. Captain.

Higgins [tempted, looking at her] It's almost irresistible. Shes so deliciously low - SO horribly dirty -

Liza [protesting extremely] Ah-ah-ah-ah-ow-ow-oo-oo!!! і aint dirty: і washed my lace and hands afore I come. 1 did.

Pickering. Youre certainty not going to turn her head with flattery. Higgins.

Mrs. Pearce [uneasy] Oh, dont say that, sir: theres more ways than one of turning a girl's head; and nobody can do it better than Mr. Higgins, though he may not always it. I do hope, sir, you wont encourage him to do anything foolish.

Higgins [becoming excited as the idea grows on him] What is life but a series of inspired follies? The difficulty is to find them to do. Never lose a chance: it doesnt come every day. I shall make a duchess of this draggle-tailed guttersnipe.

Liza [strongly deprecating this view of her] Ah-ah-ah-ow-ow-oo!

Higgins [carried away] Yes: in six months - in three if she has a good ear and a quick tongue - I'll take her anywhere and pass her off as anything. We'll start today: now! this moment! Take her away and clean her, Mrs. Pearce. Monkey Brand, if it wont come off any other way. Is there a good fire in the kitchen?

Mrs. Pearce [protesting]. Yes; but -

Higgins [storming on] Take all her clothes off and bum them. Ring up Whiteley or somebody for new ones. Wrap her up in brown paper til they come.

Liza. Youre no gentleman, youre not, to talk of such things. I'm a good and I know what the like of you are, I do.

Higgins. We want none of your Lisson Grove prudery here, young woman. Youve got to learn to behave like a duchess. Take her away, Mrs. Pearce. If she gives you any trouble wallop her.

Liza [springing up and running between Pickering and Mrs. Pearce for protection] No! I`ll call the police, I will.

Mrs. Pearce. But Ive no place to put her.

Higgins. Put her in the dustbin.

Liza. Ah-ah-ah-ow-ow-oo!

Pickering. Oh come, Higgins! be reasonable.

Mrs. Pearce [resolutely] You must be reasonable, Mr. Higgins: really you must. You cant walk over everybody like this.

21. Прочитайте зразки поезії нонсенсу (безглуздої поезії) Е. Ліра. Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Визначте жанрові ознаки поезії нонсенсу.

2. В чому, на вашу думку, виявляється зв`язок лімериків Е. Ліра з фольклорною традицією?

3. В чому полягає типологічна близькість нонсенсу та гротеску?

4. Що лежить в основі гротескної картини буття, створеної Е. Ліром?

5. Якою є оцінка людської природи в творах Е. Ліра?

6. Проти яких явищ дійсності спрямовані твори Е. Ліра? Чи присутній в них філософський аспект?

There was an Old Woman of Harrow,

Who visited in a Wheel barrow,

And her servant before,

Knock'd loud at each door;

To announce the Old Woman of Harrow.

There was an Old Woman named Towl

Who went out to Sea with her Owl,

But the Owl was Sea-sick

And scream'd for Physic;

Which sadly annoy'd Mistress Towl.

There dwelt an Old Woman Exeter,

When visitors came it sore vexed her,

So for fear they should eat,

She lock'd up all the meat;

This stingy Old Woman of Exeter.

There was an Old Woman of Croydon,

To look young she affected the Hoyden,

And would jump and would skip,

Till she put out her hip;

Alas poor Old Woman of Croydon.

22. Прочитайте уривок з ліричної драми П.Б. Шеллі «Звільнений Прометей». Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Визначте жанрову своєрідність твору П.Б. Шеллі. Вкажіть жанрові ознаки ліричної драми.

2. Як конструюється хронотоп твору? Яке значення має просторова опозиція «небеса-земля»?

3. Визначте тему та провідні мотиви монологу Прометея. Яке значення має повторюваний мотив туги?

4. Визначте функції персоніфікованих сил природи.

5. Визначте пафос наведеного уривку. За допомогою яких художніх засобів він створюється?

6. Чому, на вашу думку, Прометея відносять до так званих «традиційних» образів?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Prometheus Unbound

(excerpt)

Prometheus.

1 Monarch of Gods and Dеmons, and all Spirits

2But One, who throng those bright and rolling worlds

3Which Thou and I alone of living things

4Behold with sleepless eyes! regard this Earth

5Made multitudinous with thy slaves, whom thou

6Requitest for knee-worship, prayer, and praise,

7And toil, and hecatombs of broken hearts,

8With fear and self-contempt and barren hope.

9Whilst me, who am thy foe, eyeless in hate,

10Hast thou made reign and triumph, to thy scorn,

11O'er mine own misery and thy vain revenge.

12Three thousand years of sleep-unsheltered hours,

13And moments aye divided by keen pangs

14Till they seemed years, torture and solitude,

15Scorn and despair,--these are mine empire:--

16More glorious far than that which thou surveyest

17From thine unenvied throne, O Mighty God!

18Almighty, had I deigned to share the shame

19Of thine ill tyranny, and hung not here

20Nailed to this wall of eagle-baffling mountain,

21Black, wintry, dead, unmeasured; without herb,

22Insect, or beast, or shape or sound of life.

23Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever!

24 No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure.

25I ask the Earth, have not the mountains felt?

26I ask yon Heaven, the all-beholding Sun,

27Has it not seen? The Sea, in storm or calm,

28Heaven's ever-changing Shadow, spread below,

29Have its deaf waves not heard my agony?

30Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever!

31 The crawling glaciers pierce me with the spears

32Of their moon-freezing crystals, the bright chains

33Eat with their burning cold into my bones.

34Heaven's winged hound, polluting from thy lips

35His beak in poison not his own, tears up

36My heart; and shapeless sights come wandering by,

37The ghastly people of the realm of dream,

38Mocking me: and the Earthquake-fiends are charged

39To wrench the rivets from my quivering wounds

40When the rocks split and close again behind:

41While from their loud abysses howling throng

42The genii of the storm, urging the rage

43Of whirlwind, and afflict me with keen hail.

44And yet to me welcome is day and night,

45Whether one breaks the hoar frost of the morn,

46Or starry, dim, and slow, the other climbs

47The leaden-coloured east; for then they lead

48The wingless, crawling hours, one among whom

49--As some dark Priest hales the reluctant victim--

50Shall drag thee, cruel King, to kiss the blood

51From these pale feet, which then might trample thee

52If they disdained not such a prostrate slave.

53Disdain! Ah no! I pity thee. What ruin

54Will hunt thee undefended through wide Heaven!

55How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror,

56Gape like a hell within! I speak in grief,

57Not exultation, for I hate no more,

58As then ere misery made me wise. The curse

59Once breathed on thee I would recall. Ye Mountains,

60Whose many-voiced Echoes, through the mist

61Of cataracts, flung the thunder of that spell!

62Ye icy Springs, stagnant with wrinkling frost,

63Which vibrated to hear me, and then crept

64Shuddering through India! Thou serenest Air,

65Through which the Sun walks burning without beams!

66And ye swift Whirlwinds, who on poised wings

67Hung mute and moveless o'er yon hushed abyss,

68As thunder, louder than your own, made rock

69The orbed world! If then my words had power,

70Though I am changed so that aught evil wish

71Is dead within; although no memory be

72Of what is hate, let them not lose it now!

73What was that curse? for ye all heard me speak.

23. Прочитайте «Оду західному вітру» П.Б. Шеллі. Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

5. Визначте жанрові ознаки оди. Чи відповідає їм твір П.Б. Шеллі?

6. Що, на вашу думку, символізує образ західного вітру?

7. Зверніть увагу на появу ліричного героя в ІV та V строфах оди. Як відбувається розкриття авторського Я?

8. Яким чином на сюжеті та поетиці твору позначилася приналежність автора до романтичної художньої свідомості?

9. Яке значення мають образи природи у творі?

10. З якою метою автор використовує прийом психологічного паралелізму?

11. Вкажіть найвиразніші метафори. Визначте їх функції.

12. Який просторовий ареал твору? Як він створюється?

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ode to the West Wind

I

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead

Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,

Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,

Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed

The wingиd seeds, where they lie cold and low,

Each like a corpse within its grave, until

Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow

Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill

(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)

With living hues and odors plain and hill:

Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;

Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!

Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,

Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,

Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,

Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread

On the blue surface of thine airy surge,

Like the bright hair uplifted from the head

Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge

Of the horizon to the zenith's height,

The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge

Of the dying year, to which this closing night

Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,

Vaulted with all thy congregated might

Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere

Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh, hear!

Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams

The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,

Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams,

Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,

And saw in sleep old palaces and towers

Quivering within the wave's intenser day,

All overgrown with azure moss and flowers

So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou

For whose path the Atlantic's level powers

Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below

The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear

The sapless foliage of the ocean, know

Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear,

And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!

If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;

If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;

A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share

The impulse of thy strength, only less free

Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even

I were as in my boyhood, and could be

The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,

As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed

Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have striven

As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.

Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed

One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.

Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:

What if my leaves are falling like its own!

The tumult of thy mighty harmonies

Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,

Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,

My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe

Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!

Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth

Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!

Be through my lips to unawakened earth

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

24. Прочитайте уривок з поеми Дж. Кітса «Гіперіон». Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Дайте визначення поеми. Наведіть її жанрові ознаки.

2. Які міфологічні образи присутні в наведеному уривку поеми Дж. Кітса?

3. Визначте провідні мотиви уривку. Яке значення має мотив сну?

4. Які ознаки романтичного світовідчуття присутні в уривку?

5. Визначте засоби художньої виразності, використані поетом.

6. Зробіть аналіз поетичного синтаксису.

John Keats

Hyperion

Book III

25. Прочитайте вірш П.Б. Шеллі «Гімн Пана». Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Визначте тип героя поетичного твору П.Б. Шеллі (ліричний, об`єктивований, герой-маска).

2. Чому, на вашу думку, героєм твору є міфологічна істота? Які додаткові смисли з`являються з введенням такого персонажа?

3. Доведіть, що основним сюжетотворчим мотивом поезії є мотив кохання.

4. Сформулюйте тему вірша. Яке значення в розкритті основної теми мають пейзажні картини? Чи присутній психологічний паралелізм?

5. Інтерпретуйте символічні образи Любові, Народження та Смерті, що присутні у третій строфі вірша.

6. Вкажіть ознаки романтичного світовідчуття та поетики в творі.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Hymn of Pan

From the forests and highlands

We come, we come;

From the river-girt islands,

Where loud waves are dumb

Listening my sweet pipings.

The wind in the reeds and the rushes,

The bees on the bells of thyme,

The birds on the myrtle bushes,

The cicale above in the lime,

And the lizards below in the grass,

Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was,

Listening my sweet pipings.

Liquid Peneus was flowing,

And all dark Tempe lay

In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing

The light of the dying day,

Speeded by my sweet pipings.

The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns,

And the Nymphs of the woods and the waves,

To the edge of the moist river-lawns,

And the brink of the dewy caves,

And all that did then attend and follow,

Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo,

With envy of my sweet pipings.

I sang of the dancing stars,

I sang of the daedal Earth,

And of Heaven, and the giant wars,

And Love, and Death, and Birth--

And then I chang'd my pipings,

Singing how down the vale of Maenalus

I pursu'd a maiden and clasp'd a reed.

Gods and men, we are all deluded thus!

It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed.

All wept, as I think both ye now would,

If envy or age had not frozen your blood,

At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.

26. Прочитайте уривок з роману Дж. Голсуорсі «Власник». Дайте відповіді на запитання та виконайте завдання:

1. Дайте визначення роману. Вкажіть особливості відтворення людського характеру та дійсності в романі.

2. Яку роль у розкритті характерів персонажів даного твору відіграє авторський коментар?

3. Яке значення для індивідуалізації характерів має портрет (деталі одягу, манера говорити, жести)? Вкажіть найхарактерніші риси зовнішності героїв?

4. Доведіть, що одним з засобів характеротворення є інтер`єр та речове оточення персонажів. Визначте функції речей.

5. Визначте авторське ставлення до героїв? Вкажіть способи вираження авторської думки.

6. Знайдіть приклади іронічних авторських коментарів.

7. Вкажіть ознаки реалістичної естетики в творі.

John Galsworthy

The Forsyte Saga

<…> On June 15, eighteen eighty-six, about four of the afternoon, the observer who changed to be present at the house of old Jolyon Forsyte in Stanhope Gate, might have seen the highest efflorescence of the Forsytes.

This was the occasion of an fat home' to celebrate the engagement of Miss June Forsyte, old Jolyon's granddaughter, to Mr. Philip Bosinney. In the bravery of light gloves, buff waistcoats, feathers and frocks, the family were present, even Aunt Ann, who now but seldom left the comer of her brother Timothy's green drawing-room, where, under the aegis of a plume of dyed pampas grass in a light blue vase, she sat all day reading and knitting, surrounded by the effigies of three generations of Forsytes. Even Aunt Ann was there; her inflexible back, and the dignity of her calm old face personifying the rigid possessiveness of the family idea.

When a Forsyte was engaged, married, or born, the Forsytes were present; when a Forsyte died - but no Forsyte had as yet died; they did not die; death being contrary to their principles, they took precautions against it, the instinctive precautions of highly vitalized persons who resent encroachments on their property.

About the Forsytes mingling that day with the crowd of other guests, there was a more than ordinarily groomed look, an alert, inquisitive assurance, a brilliant respectability, as though they were attired in defiance of something. The habitual sniff on the face of Soames Forsyte had spread through their ranks; they were on their guard.

The subconscious offensiveness of their attitude has constituted old Jolyon's 'home' the psychological moment of the family history, made it the prelude of their drama.

The Forsytes were resentful of something, not individually, but as a family; this resentment expressed itself in an added perfection of raiment, an exuberance of family cordiality, an exaggeration of family importance, and - the sniff. Danger - so indispensable in bringing out the fundamental quality of any society, group, or individual - was what the Forsytes scented; the premonition of danger put a burnish on their armour. For the first time, as a family, they appeared to have an instinct of being in contact, with some strange and unsafe thing.

Over against the piano a man of bulk and stature was wearing two waistcoats on his wide chest, two waistcoats and a ruby pin, instead of the single satin waistcoat and diamond pin of more usual occasions, and his shaven, square, old face, the colour of pale leather, with pale eyes, had its most dignified look, above his satin stock. This was Swithin Forsyte. Close to the window, where he could get more than his fair share of fresh air, the other twin, James - the fat and the lean of it, old Jolyon called these brothers - like the bulky Swithin, over six feet in height, but very lean, as though destined from his birth to strike a balance and maintain an average, brooded over the scene with his permanent stoop: his grey eyes had an air of fixed absorption in some secret worry, broken at intervals by a rapid, shifting scrutiny of surrounding facts; his cheeks, thinned by two parallel folds, and a long, clean-shaven upper lip, were framed within Dundreary whiskers. In his hands he turned and turned a piece of china. Not far off, listening to a lady in brown, his only son Soames, pale and well-shaved, dark-haired, rather bald, had poked his chin up sideways, carrying his nose with that aforesajd appearance of 'sniff,' as though despising an egg which he knew he could not digest. Behind him his cousin, the tall George, son of the fifth Forsyte, Roger, had a Quilpish look on his fleshy face, pondering one of his sardonic jests. Something inherent to the occasion had affected them all.

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