Гавриил Державин — Блажен, кто менее зависит от людей (Евгению. Жизнь Званская)

Blazhen, kto meneye zavisit ot lyudey,
Svoboden ot dolgov i ot khlopot prikaznykh,
Ne ishchet pri dvore ni zlata, ni chestey
I chuzhd suyet raznoobraznykh!
Zachem zhe v Petropol na volnu yekhat strast,
S prostranstva v tesnotu, s svobody za zatvory,
Pod bremya roskoshi, bogatstv, siren pod vlast
I pred velmozhey pyshny vzory?
Vozmozhno li sravnyat chto s volnostyu zlatoy,
S uyedineniyem i tishinoy na Zvaike?
Dovolstvo, zdraviye, soglasiye s zhenoy,
Pokoy mne nuzhen — dney v ostanke.
Vosstav ot sna, vzvozhu na nebo skromny vzor;
Moy utrenyuyet dukh pravitelyu vselennoy;
Blagodaryu, chto vnov chudes, krasot pozor
Otkryl mne v zhizni tol blazhennoy.
Proydya minuvshuyu i ne nashedshi v ney,
Chtob chernaya zmia mne serdtse ugryzala,
O! kol dovolen ya, ostavil chto lyudey
I chestolyubia izbeg ot zhala!
Dysha nevinnostyu, pyu vozdukh, vlagu ros,
Zryu na bagryanets zar, na solntse voskhodyashche,
Ishchu krasivykh mest mezhdu liley i roz,
Sred sada khram zhezlom chertyashche.
Il, nakormi moikh pshenitsey golubey,
Smotryu nad chashey vod, kak vyut pod nebom krugi;
Na raznoperykh ptits, poyushchikh sred setey,
Na kroyushchikh, kak snegom, lugi.
Pastushyego vblizi vnimayu roga zov,
Vdali teterevey glukhoye tokovanye,
Barashkov v vozdukhe, v kustakh svist solovyev,
Rev krav, grom zholn i koney rzhanye.
Na krovle zh zazvenit kak lastochka, i par
Poveyet s doma mne manzhurskoy il levantskoy,
Idu za krugly stol: i tut-to razdobar
O snakh, molve gradskoy, krestyanskoy;
O slavnykh podvigakh velikikh tekh muzhey,
Chyi v ramakh po stenam zlatykh blistayut litsy.
Dlya vspominanya ikh deyany, slavnykh dney,
I dlya prikras moyey svetlitsy,
V kotoroy poutru il vvecheru poroy
Divlyusya v Vestnike, v gazetakh il zhurnalakh,
Rossian khrabrosti, kak vsyak iz nikh geroy,
Gde yest Suvorov v generalakh;
V kotoroy k gospozhe, dlya pokhvaly gostey,
Prinosyat raznye polotna, sukna, tkani,
Uzorny obraztsy salfetok, skatertey,
Kovrov, i kruzhev, i vyazani;
Gde s skoten, pchelnikov, i s ptichen, i prudov
To v masle, to v sotakh zryu zlato pod vetvyami,
To purpur v yagodakh, to barkhat-pukh gribov,
Srebro, trepeshchushche leshchami;
V kotoroy, obozrev bolnykh v bolnitse, vrach
Prikhodit donosit o ikh vrede, zdorovye,
Prosya na pishchu im: tem s polivkoy kalach,
A tem lekarstvitsa, v podsporye;
Gde takzhe inogda po birkam, po kostyam,
Usasty starosta, il skopidom bryukhatoy,
Dayet otchet kazne, i khlebu, i veshcham,
S ulybkoy chasto plutovatoy.
I gde, sluchayetsya, gudozhniki mlady
Raboty kazhut ikh na dreve, na kholstine
I poluchayut v dar podachi za trudy,
A v chas i deneg po poltine.
I gde do uzhina, chtoby prognat kak son,
V zadore inogda v igry zelo goryachi
Igrayem v karty my, v yeroshki, v faraon,
Po groshu v dolg i bez otdachi.
Ottuda prikhozhu v svyatilishche ya muz
I s Flakkom, Pindarom, bogov vosedshi v pire,
K tsaryam, k druzyam moim il k nebu voznoshus
Il slavlyu selsku zhizn na lire;
Il v zerkalo vremen, kachaya golovoy,
Na strasti, na dela zryu drevnikh, novykh vekov,
Ne vidya nichego, krome lyubvi odnoy
K sebe, — i draki chelovekov.
«Vse suyeta suyet! — ya, vozdykhaya, mnyu;
No, brosiv vzor na blesk svetila poludnevna, —
O, kol prekrasen mir! Chto zh dukh moy bremenyu?
Tvortsom soderzhitsya vselenna.
Da budet na zemli i v nebesakh yego
Yedinogo vo vsem vsedeystvuyushcha volya!
On vidit glubinu vsyu serdtsa moyego,
I stroitsya moya im dolya».
Dvorovykh mezhdu tem, krestyanskikh roy detey
Sbirayetsya ko mne ne dlya kakoy nauki,
A vzyat po neskolku baranok, krendeley,
Chtoby vo mne ne zreli buki.
Pismovoditel moy tut dolzhen na moikh
Bumagakh maranykh, pastukh kak na ovechkakh,
Repeynik vychishchat, — khot mysley net bolshikh,
Blestyat i zhuchki v yepanechkakh.
Byet poldnya chas, raby sluzhit k stolu begut;
Idet za trapezu gostey khozyayka s khorom.
Ya ozrevayu stol — i vizhu raznykh blyud
Tsvetnik, postavlenny uzorom.
Bagryana vetchina, zeleny shchi s zheltkom,
Rumyano-zhelt pirog, syr bely, raki krasny,
Chto smol, yantar — ikra, i s golubym perom
Tam shchuka pestraya — prekrasny!
Prekrasny potomu, chto vzor manyat moy, vkus;
No ne obiliyem il chuzhdykh stran pripravoy:
A chto opryatno vse i predstavlyayet Rus,
Pripas domashny, svezhy, zdravoy.
Kogda zhe my donskikh i krymskikh kubki vin,
I liptsa, voronka i chernopenna piva
Zapustim neskolko v rumyany lob khmelin, —
Beseda za slastmi shutliva.
No molcha vdrug vstayem — byet, iskrami gorya,
Drev russkikh sladky sok do podvenechnykh breven:
Za zdravye s gromom pyem lyubeznogo tsarya.
Tsarits, tsarevichey, tsareven.
Tut kofe dva glotka; skhrapnu minut pyatok;
Tam v shakhmaty, v shary il iz luka strelami,
Pernaty k potolku laptoy mechu letok
I teshus raznymi igrami.
Il iz kristalnykh vod, kupalen, mezhdu drev,
Ot solntsa, ot lyudey pod skromnym osenenyem,
Tam vnemlyu yunoshey, a zdes pleskanye dev,
S dushevnym nekim voskhishchenyem.
Il v stekla optiki kartinnye mesta
Smotryu moikh usadb; na svitkakh grady, tsarstva,
Morya, lesa, — lezhit vsya mira krasota
V glazakh, iskusstv cherez kovarstva.
Il v mrachnom fonare lyubuyus, zvezdy zrya
Begushchi v tishine po sinyu voln stremlenyu:
Tak solntsy v vozdukhe, ya mnyu, tekut gorya,
Premudrosti ko proslavlenyu.
Il smotrim, kak voda s plotiny s revom lyet
I, dvizha mashinu, dreva na doski delit;
Kak skvoz chugunnykh par stolpov na vozdukh byet,
Klokocha ogn, tolchet i melet.
Il lyubopytny, kak bumazhny runy voln
V lotki skvoz igl, koles, podobno snegu, lyutsya
V pushistykh lokonakh, i tmy vdrug vereten
Mariinoy rukoy pryadutsya.
Il kak na len, na shelk tsvet, pestrota i losk,
Vse prelesti, krasy, berutsya s pol tsaritsy;
Stal zhestkaya, glyadim, kak myagky, aly vosk,
Kuyetsya v berdyshi militsy.
I selski ratniki kak, tsarstva stav shchitom,
Begut s stremlenyem v stroy vo rytsarskom ubranstve
«Za veru, za tsarya my, — govoryat, — pomrem,
Chem u frantsuzov byt v poddanstve».
Il v lodke vdol reki, po bregu pesh, verkhom,
Kachus na drozhkakh ya sosedey s verenitsey;
To rybu udami, to dich gromim svintsom,
To zaytsev lovim psov stanitsey.
Il stoya vnemlem shum zelenykh, chernykh voln,
Kak dern bugrit sokha, zlak trav padet kosami,
Serpami zlato niv, — i aromatov poln
Porkhayet vetr mezh nimf ryadami.
Il smotrim, kak bezhit pod chernoy tuchey ten
Po kopnam, po snopam, kovram zhelto-zelenym
I skhodit solnyshko na nizhnyuyu stepen
K kholmam i roshcham sine-temnym.
Il, utomyas, idem skirdov, dubov pod sen:
Na brege Volkhova razvodim ogn dymisty;
Glyadim, kak na vodu lozhitsya krasny den,
I pyem pod nebom chay dushisty.
Zabavno! v tme chelnov s setmi kak rybaki,
Lenivym stroyem plyv, strashat tvar vlagi stukom;
Kak parusy suda i lyamkoy burlaki
Vlekut odnim pod pesnyu dukhom.
Prekrasno! tikhiye, otlogiye brega
I redki kholmiki, seleny melkikh polny,
Kak, polosaty ikh klonya polya, luga,
Stoyat nad tokom struy bezmolvny.
Priatno! kak vdali sverkayet luch s kosy
I ekho za lesom pod mgloy gamit naroda,
Zhnetsov poyushchikh, zhnits polk idet s polosy,
Kogda my yedem iz pokhoda.
Stekl zarevom gorit moy khramovidny dom.
Na goru zhelty vskhod mezh roz osiavaya,
Gde vstrechu vodomet shumit luchey dozhdem,
Zvuchit muzyka dukhovaya.
Iz zherl chugunnykh grom po prazdnikam revet;
Pod zvezdnoy molniyey, pod svetlymi drevami
Tolpa krestyan, ikh zhen vino i pivo pyet,
Poyet i plyashet pod gudkami.
No skuchit kak sia zabava selska nam,
Vnutr doma teshimsya stolits uveselenyem;
Velim talantami rodnykh svoikh detyam
Blistat: muzykoy, plyaskoy, penyem.
Amurchikov, kharit pleten il khorovod,
Zanyav u Talii igru i Terpsikhory,
Tsvetochnye venki pastukh pastushke vyet, —
A my na nikh i pyalim vzory.
Tam s arfy zvuchny poryvny v dushi grom,
Zdes tikhogroma s strun smyagchenny, plavny tony
Begut, — i v yestestve soglasia vo vsem
Dayut nam chuvstvovat zakony.
No net kak prazdnika, i v budni ya odin,
Na vozvyshenii sidya stolpov perilnykh,
Pri guslyakh pod vecher, chelom moikh sedin
Sklonyas, noshus v mechtakh umilnykh, —
Chego v moy dremlyushchy togda ne vkhodit um?
Mimoletyashchi sut vse vremeni mechtanyi:
Prokhodyat gody, dni, rev mor i burey shum
I vsekh zefirov povevanyi.
Akh! gde zh, ishchu ya vkrug, minuvshy krasny den?
Pobedy slava gde, luchi Yekateriny?
Gde Pavlovy dela? — Sokrylos solntse, — ten!..
Kto vest i vpred polet orliny?
Vid leta krasnogo nam Aleksandrov vek;
On serdtsem nezhnykh lir udoben dvigat struny;
Blazhenstvoval pod nim v spokoystve chelovek,
No meshchet dnes i on peruny.
Umolknut li oni? — Siye lish znayet tot,
Kotory k odnomu kontsu vse pravit sfery;
On perstom ikh svoim kak stroy kakoy vedet,
Ko blagu obshchemu sklonyaya mery.
On korni pomyslov, on zrit polet vsekh mecht
I poglumlyayetsya bezumstvu chelovekov:
Tekh «sveshchayet mrak, tekh pomrachayet svet,
I dneshnikh, i gryadushchikh vekov.
Grud rossov utverdil, kak stenu, on v otpor
Temiru novomu pod Pultuskom, Preyssh-Lau;
Mladykh vozhdey rastsvel pobedami tam vzor,
I skryl orla sedogo slavu.
Tak samykh svetlykh zvezd blesk merknet ot noshchey.
Chto zhizn nichtozhnaya? Moya skudelna lira!
Uvy! i dazhe prakh spakhnet moikh kostey
Saturn krylami s tlenna mira.
Razrushitsya sey dom, zasokhnet bor i sad,
Ne vospomyanetsya nigde i imya Zvanki;
No sov, sychey iz dupl ognezeleny vzglyad
I razve dym sverknet s zemlyanki.
Il net, Yevgeny! ty, byv nekogda moikh
Svidetel pesen zdes, vzoydesh na kholm tot
strashny,
Kotory toshchikh nedr i svodov vnutr svoikh
Vozhdya, volkhva, grob kroyet mrachny,
Ot koyego kak grom katayetsya nad iim
S bulatnykh rzhavykh vrat, i sbrui mednoy guly
Tak slyshny pod zemley, kak grokhotom glukhim
V lesakh tryasyas, zvuchat strel tuly.
Tak, razve ty, otets! svyatym tvoim zhezlom
Udariv ob doski, zarosshi mkhom, zhelezny,
I svitykh vkrug moyey mogily zmey gnezdom
Progonish — blednu zavist — v bezdny;
Ne arya na koleso veselykh, mrachnykh dney,
Na vozvysheniye, na ponizhenye schastya,
Yedinoy pravdoyu menya v umakh lyudey
Chrez Klii voskresish soglasya.
Tak, v mrake vechnosti ona svoyey truboy
Udobna lish yavit to mesto, gde otzyvy
Ot liry moyeya shumyashcheyu rekoy
Neslis chrez kholmy, doly, nivy.
Ty slyshal ikh, — i ty, budya tvoim perom
Potomkov oto sna, bliz Severa stolitsy,
Shepnesh v slukh stranniku, v dali kak tikhy grom:
«Zdes boga zhil pevets, Felitsy».

Yevgeniyu. Zhizn Zvanskaya