Презентация "Лермонтов и Байрон"

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  Литературный вечер
  «Лермонтов и Байрон»
  

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  1788 - was born
  1798 – inherited the title of lord
  

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  1805 – entered Cambridge University
  

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  1807 – published the first
  collection of poem
  “Hours of Idleness”
  («Часы досуга»)
  
  

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  1809 – went travelling and visited Europe
  

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  1812 – two parts of the poem “Childe Harold Pilgrimage” were published
  

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  1817-1823 – lived in Italy
  

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  1819-1824 – wrote “Don Juan”
  
  

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  1819 – poem “Cain”
  

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  1824 – in Missolonghi fell ill with typhus and died
  

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  1814 – was born
  

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  1830 – entered Moscow University but soon had to leave it
  
  

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  1834 – finished St. Petersburg School of Cavalry and was given a commission in the Hussar Regiment of the Emperial Guard
  

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  1837 – was exiled to the Caucasus for his poem on Pushkin’s death
  

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  1841 - was exiled to the Caucasus for the second time
  

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  1835 – was published the tale verse Hadji Abrek
  

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  Lines Written in an Album, at Malta
  As o’er the cold sepulchral stone
  Some name arrests the passer-by;
  Thus, when thou view’st this page alone,
  May mine attract the pensive eye!
  And when by thee that name is read,
  Perchance in some succeeding year,
  Reflect on me as on the dead,
  And think my Heart is buried here.
  

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  Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer
  Farewell! If Ever Fondest Prayer
  For other’s weal avail’d on high,
  Mine will not all be lost in air,
  But waft thy name beyond the sky.
  T were vain to speak, to weep, to sigh:
  Oh! More than tears of blood can tell,
  When wrung from guilt’s expiring eye,
  Are in that word – Farewell! – Farewell!
  These lips are mute, these eyes are dry;
  But in my breast and in my brain,
  Awake the pangs that pass not by,
  The thought that ne’er shall sleep again.
  My soul nor deigns nor dares complain,
  Though grief and passion there rebel;
  I only know we loved in vain -
  I only feel – Farewell! – Farewell!
  

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  My soul is dark
  
  My soul is dark – Oh! quickly string
  
  The harp I yet can brook to hear;
  
  And let the gentle fingers fling
  
  Its melting murmurs o’er mine ear.
  
  If in this heart a hope be dear,
  
  That sound shall charm it fourth again:
  
  If in this eyes there lurk a tear,
  
  ‘T will flow, and cease to burn my brain.
  But bid the strain be wild and deep,
  
  Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
  
  I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
  
  Or else this heavy heart will burst;
  
  For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
  
  And ached in sleepless silence long;
  
  And now ‘tis doomed to know the worst,
  
  And break at once – or yield to song.
  

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