Когда с любовью я играл,
Как тот Сатир с огнем,
И я не думал, не гадал,
Что гибель скрыта в том.
Сатир обжег уста одни,
А я, целуя, смог
Зажечь весь дух, щепе сродни,
И на сердце ожог.
(Перевод А. Скрябина)
563. Upon Love (V)
I PLAYED with Love, as with the fire
The wanton Satyr did;
Nor did I know, or could descry
What under there was hid.
That Satyr he but burnt his lips;
But mine's the greater smart,
For kissing Love's dissembling chips
The fire scorch'd my heart.
The wanton Satyr, see Note:
See Sir E. Dyer's The Shepherd's Conceit of Prometheus :—
“Prometheus, when first from heaven high
He brought down fire, ere then on earth not seen.
Fond of delight, a Satyr standing by
Gave it a kiss, as it like sweet had been.
. . . . . . .
The difference is—the Satyr's lips, my heart,
He for a time, I evermore, have smart.”