No, I'm not in Arcadia! Shepherd's mournful song
One should hear in Egypt or Central Asia, where slavery
It is accustomed to amuse heavy essentiality with a sad song.
No, I'm not in Rhea's area! O gods of joy and happiness!
Can there be a beginning in the heart filled with you
The sound of a single rebellious sorrow, a cry of misfortune?
Where and how did you, Arcadian shepherd, learn to sing
A song contrary to your gods who send joy?

Shepherd

A song contrary to our gods!
Traveler, you are right!
Exactly, we were happy, and the gods loved the happy:
I still remember it daylight hours! but happiness
(Later we found out) a guest on earth, and not an ordinary resident.
I learned this song here, and with it for the first time
We heard the voice of misfortune, and, poor children,
We thought that the earth would fall apart from him and the sun,
The bright sun will go out! So the first grief is terrible!

Traveler

Gods, so this is where the last happiness of mortals stayed!
Here his trace has not disappeared yet. The old man, this sad shepherd,
Was at the send-off of the guest whom I was looking for in vain
In marvelous Colchis, in the countries of the Atlantides, Hyperboreans,
Even at the end of the earth, where summer is abundant in roses
Shorter than the African winter, where the sun peeps through in the spring,
With autumn, the sea goes where people are for the dark winter
Sleep soundly, hiding in animal furs, fall asleep.
How, tell me, shepherd, did you anger the god Zeus?
Woe section delights; tell me a bitter tale
Songs of your mournful! Misfortune taught me
To sympathize with the misfortune of others. Cruel people
Since childhood, they have driven me far from my native city.

Shepherd

Eternal night devour the cities! From your city
Trouble has come to our poor Arcadia! let's sit down
Here, on this shore, against the plane tree, whose branches
They cover the river with a long shadow and reach us. -
Listen, did my song seem dull to you?

Traveler

Sad as the night!

Shepherd

And her beautiful Amarilla sang.
A young man who came to us from the city, this song
Learned to sing Amarilla, and we, unfamiliar with grief,
Unknown sounds were merrily listened to sweetly. And who would
Sweet and fun didn't you listen to her? Amarilla, the shepherdess
Lush-haired, slender, the happiness of old parents,
The joy of the girlfriends, the love of the shepherds, was a surprise
A rare creation of Zeus, a wonderful maiden whom
Envy did not dare to touch and malice, squinting, fled.
The shepherdesses themselves were not equal to her and were inferior to her
First place with the most beautiful youth in the evening dances.
But the Harita goddesses live inseparably with beauty -
And Amarilla has always deviated from superfluous honor.
Modesty instead of preference received love from everyone.
The elders cried for joy, admiring her, humbly
The young men were waiting for whom Amarilla would notice with her heart?
Which of the beautiful, young shepherds can be called lucky?
The choice fell not on them! I swear by the god Eros,
The young man who came to us from the city, gentle Meletius,
Sweet-tongued, like Ermius, was like Phoebus in beauty,
The voice of Pan is more skillful! The shepherdess loved him.
We didn't murmur! we didn't blame her! we are in oblivion
They even thought, looking at them: “Here are Ares and Cyprida
Walk through our fields and hills; he is wearing a shiny helmet,
In a purple mantle, long, casually descended from behind,
Dragim compressed by a stone on a snow-white shoulder. She is
In light shepherdess clothing, simple, but not blood, but immortality,
It can be seen that no less flows through her imperishable members.
Who would have dared to think of us that his soul is cunning,
That in the cities both the image is beautiful and the oaths are criminal.
I was a baby then. It used to be with arms around
White, tender feet of Meletios, I sit quietly,
Hearing his oaths to Amarilla, terrible oaths
By all the gods: to love Amarilla alone and with her
To live inseparably by our streams and in our valleys.
I was a witness to oaths; Erotic sweet secrets
Hamadryads were present. But what? and he springs
He did not live with her, he left irrevocably! simple heart
Black treason is not skillfully comprehended. His Amarilla
Day, and another, and the third waits - all in vain! About everything to her
Sad thoughts come, except for betrayal: isn't it a boar,
How Adonis tore him to pieces; not wounded in a dispute
Is he for the game, throwing heavy circles more dexterously than all?
“In the city, I heard, diseases live! He is sick!"
On the morning of the fourth, she cried out, shedding tears:
“Let’s run to the city to him, my baby!”
And grabbed it hard
My hand and jerked, and with her we ran like a whirlwind.
I did not have time, it seemed to me, to die, and the city was already in front of us.
Stone, diverse, with gardens, pillars opened:
So the clouds before tomorrow's storm in the evening sky
Different types with tints of wonderful colors are accepted.

I have never seen such a diva! But surprise
It wasn't time. We ran into the city, and loud singing
We were amazed - we became. We see: the crowd in front of us
Slender wives pass in snow-white bedspreads.
Mirror, golden bowls, ivory chests
Women ceremoniously carry them. And the young slaves
Frisky, loud-voiced, naked to the waist,
Around them, their evil eyes sparkle in a merry dance,
They jump, some with a tambourine, some with a thyrsus, one with a curly head
He carries a long vase and splashes with plates to the song.
Oh, good traveler, what did the slave girls tell us!
Slender wives led their young wife out of the bath
Evil Meletius. Desires vanished, hopes gone!
For a long time Amarilla looked into the crowd, and suddenly, staggering,
Pala. Coldness in the arms and legs and chest without breathing!
Weak child, I didn't know what to do. From a terrible thought
(Terrible and now remember) that there is no more Amarilla, -
I did not cry, but felt: tears, condensed into stone,
Sting inside my eyes and hot head bent.
But still life in Amarilla, unfortunately for her, was flaming:
Her chest rose and throbbed, her face caught fire
A dark blush, eyes glancing at me, blurred.
So she jumped up, so she ran out of the city, as if
The Eumenides persecuted her, the stern maidens of Aydes!

Was it, baby, I was able to catch up with the ill-fated maiden!
No... I found her already in this grove, beyond this river,
Where from time immemorial the altar to the god Eros rises,
Where for sacred wreaths and a fragrant flower garden
(Get old, happy couple!) And where are you more than once, Amarilla,
With the faith of an innocent heart, she listened to criminal oaths.
Zeus is merciful! with what a squeal and what a smile
She sang this song in the grove! how many with roots
Narwhal of different colors in the flower garden and how quickly she wove them!
Soon strange outfit made. whole branches,
Roses magnificently doused, as if the horns were sticking out
Wildly from the ligatures of a multi-color wreath, wonderfully large;
Ivy is wide with chains from a wreath on the shoulders and on the Persians
The long one fell and, noisily, dragged along the ground after her.
So dressed up, importantly, with the gait of Ira the goddess,
Amarilla went to our huts. Comes and what?
Her mother and father did not recognize her; sang, and in the old
Hearts beat with new trembling, a harbinger of grief.
She fell silent - and ran into the hut with wild laughter, and with a look
The surprised mother began to ask sadly: “Dear,
Sing, if you love your daughter, and dance: I'm happy, happy!
Mother and father, not understanding, but hearing her, sobbed.
“Have you ever been unhappy, dear child?” -
The decrepit mother, with an effort to calm her tears, asked.
“My friend is healthy! I am a bride! They will come out of the magnificent city
Slender wives, frisky maidens to meet the bride!
Where he first said I love Amarylla the shepherdess,
There, from under the shade of the cherished tree, lucky woman, I will cry out:
Here I am, here I am! You slender wives, you frisky maidens!
Sing: Hymen, Hymen! - and take the bride to the bath.
Why don't you sing, why don't you dance! Sing, dance!”
The mournful elders, looking at their daughter, sat motionless,
Like marble, abundantly sprinkled with cold dew.
If it were not for the daughter, but the Life-giver brought a different shepherdess
To see and hear such a stricken heavenly punishment,
Even then the unfortunate would turn into a languorous one,
Tear source - now, quietly leaning towards each other,
They were their last sleep. Amarilla sang,
Having cast a proud look at his outfit, and to the tree of goodbye,
I went to the tree of love that changed. Shepherds and shepherds
Attracted by her song, merrily, noisily fled
With tender affection for her, beloved, beloved friend.
But - her outfit, voice and look ... Shepherds and shepherds
Shyly they staggered back and silently fled into the bushes.

Our poor Arcadia! Have you changed then?
Are our eyes, for the first time seeing misfortune close at hand,
Wrapped up in a gloomy fog? evergreen canopy,
The waters are crystal, all your beauties have faded terribly.
The gods value their gifts dearly! We no longer see
Fun again! If Rhea with the same mercy
She returned to us, everything would have been in vain! fun and happiness
Similar to first love. Mortal once in a lifetime
He can get drunk on their full, virginal sweetness! Did you know
Happiness, love and fun? So I understand, and let's keep quiet about it.

The terribly singing maiden was already standing by the plane tree,
Ivy and flowers from the attire tore and they diligently
Decorate your tree. When I bent down from the shore,
Courageously young, grasping the rod, so that with a flower chain
Tie this branch, reaching us with a shadow,
The rod, crackling, broke off, and she flew off the shore
Unfortunate waves. Are the nymphs of the waters, regretting the beauty
Young shepherdess, they thought to save her, is the dress dry,
Around the wide surface of the water clasping, did not give
Should she drown? I do not know, but for a long time, like a naiad,
Visible only to the chest, Amarilla rushed with aspiration,
Singing your song, not feeling close death,
As if in moisture born by the ancient father Ocean.
Without finishing her sad song, she drowned.

Ah, traveler, bitter! you cry! run from here!
In other lands, look for fun and happiness! Really
They are not in the world, and from us from the last they were called by the gods!

When Pushkin wrote about the "amazing" idylls of Delvig, he was surprised, first of all, at how the Russian contemporary poet smog through German translations 1 and Latin imitations to capture and convey in Russian and Russian verse the very spirit of Greek poetry. Pushkin studied more diligently than Delvig, but in the field of classical philology he did not feel as free as in the French element. But something else is more important here: “What power of imagination should have: and what an extraordinary flair for the elegant, in order to guess this way: this luxury, this bliss: which does not allow anything tense in feelings; thin, confused in thoughts; superfluous, unnatural in the descriptions!

Delvig was literally in awe of him. In Literaturnaya Gazeta 183031, organized by Delvig and initially edited by him, Pushkin disposed of it at his own discretion and even in letters scolded her for "boredom", actively participating in it.

Anton Antonovich Delvig. Baron Anton Antonovich Delvig is often referred to as an authoritative witness to the events of the cultural and generally spiritual life of Pushkin's time. The definition of a member of the "Pushkin galaxy" is most suitable for him. Having made friends with Pushkin while still at the Lyceum, he surprised him with his complete opposite. Delvig immediately discovered his adaptability to circumstances - but not in terms of artistic taste. Willingly, without opposition, accepting the jokes of his comrades over his laziness and the reputation of a sloth, he himself adapted to such a reputation, thereby additionally bribing his brilliant friend.

As can be seen from the sonnet considered at the beginning of this chapter, Delvig is really alien to any semblance of megalomania. Delvig’s poetry, even for those who don’t remember it very well, is so marked by the then poetic and musical culture, so saturated with the spirit of the presence of the living Pushkin, that all of Delvig’s surviving heritage is valued much more than if the baron, who could afford a carefree life, would flood magazines idylls in a purely ancient Greek taste.

The power of sincerity and imagination in Delvig is so great, and the melodiousness of poetry is not at all obligatory even for poetry the highest standard- so asks to be set to music that his elegies actively live to this day: “When, soul, you asked:”, “The past days of charm:” the poem “Disappointment” - in the melodies of M. L. Yakovlev and A. S. Dargomyzhsky. And the latter, by the way, is not guilty of the fact that his light and playful play on Delvig's verses "The First Meeting" "I have passed sixteen years:" was then perceived by many as a sign of bourgeois music-making. However, Delvig came up with this poem while still a lyceum student.

Pushkin, on the other hand, considered Delvig's judgments regarding art to be infallible. He was even amazed when a friend, a lazy bastard, expressed himself in idylls, not properly knowing either the language or the culture. Ancient Greece. Delvig's early death not only struck Pushkin: she knocked him down, orphaned him. Delvig was not only one of Pushkin's closest friends, he was his most beloved friend, intimately close. "It's sad, it's sad. Here is the first death I mourned: No one in the world was closer to me than Delvig. Of all the connections of childhood, he alone remained in sight: This recognition is understandable: whatever you value for the sake of childhood memories! But something else is more touching. A few years later, visiting the exhibition, being a mature connoisseur for his time and especially reliable for our time, Pushkin feels the absence of Delvig. Pushkin always appreciated the cultural and political opinions of Vyazemsky or Zhukovsky, but the “lazy” Delvig is not enough. Only he alone could fully sympathize.

In the same years, Delvig was working on the revival of a genre that had almost disappeared from Russian poetry - idyll. Imitations of the ancients, works in the ancient spirit were loved by him even in the Lyceum. Literature teacher N.F. Koshansky encouraged his pupils to write poetry. Delvig's interest in antiquity at the Lyceum also developed under direct influence Koshansky, translator of ancient poets, author of several editions of classical writers, the main preacher of antiquity among lyceum students. Undoubtedly, lyceum teaching, to a certain extent, can explain the interest young poet to ancient mythology and his passion ancient poets. In their idylls of the 1820s. Delvig strives to recreate the world of antiquity, the "golden age", where harmony and happiness reigned, where man was perfect. Delvig sings of natural human feelings, without idealizing a meager and modest existence. Any person, according to the poet, is worthy of goods and pleasures. Earthly life is multifaceted and beautiful. Enjoy it, - as if the poet calls. And these thoughts are new in the traditional genre.

Delvig's idylls are not a stylization for the sake of stylization. “What power of imagination must one have in order to be transported so completely from 19th century in a golden age, and what an extraordinary flair for the elegant, in order to guess Greek poetry through Latin imitations or German translations. This luxury, this bliss, this charm,” Pushkin wrote about Delvig.

The theme of Delvig's idylls is the realm of simple human feelings - mutual respect, friendship, love. It is no coincidence that in the idylls "Cefiz" and "Damon" one and the same line will meet: "Everything is passable here - one friendship is impenetrable." Friendship is the feeling that helps a person endure all the troubles:

The Gods sent us many experiences of the past.

We sweetened everything with friendship.

The hero of Delvig's idylls, an old man who knows earthly joys and is not afraid of death, makes young people want to imitate him:

(...) Oh Gods, -

We prayed - send us virtue and wisdom!

May we cheerfully meet old age, like Damon!

Let also say without sadness, but with a quiet smile:

“It used to be that they loved me, but now they don’t love me!”

Treachery and betrayal in friendship and betrayal of a beloved girl lead to the end of the golden age - this thought was voiced in idyll "The End of the Golden Age" (1828): “... Exactly, we were happy, and the gods loved the happy: / I still remember this, bright time! But happiness / (Later we learned) is a guest on earth, and not an ordinary resident ... / Ah, traveler, you cry bitterly! Run! / In other lands, look for fun and happiness! Really / They are not in the world, and the gods called them from us from the last!

Even at the Lyceum, Delvig had the idea to create a Russian idyll about a hero-soldier, participant Patriotic War 1812. The idea was realized in 1829, when it was written idyll "Retired soldier". Delvig abandons the usual hexameter, resorts to iambic pentameter, uses colloquial speech(“ears wither”, “our own life”, “it became fresh for us”, “everyone got out like Christmas hari”, “cooked cabbage soup”, “the cart is jumping”) - similar expressions it is impossible to meet in the idylls of Delvig's contemporaries - Nikolai Ivanovich Gnedich and Vladimir Ivanovich Panaev.

In his idylls, Delvig does not mix Greek and Russian motifs. Its heroes have Greek names (Filint, Chloe, Mikon), live in an idyllic world with Greek deities (Apollo, Pallas, Hephaestus) and familiar heroes Greek mythology(Daphne, Faun).

The romance "Beautiful day, happy day ..." was written in 1823.

The main idea is in the lines “Wake up, groves of the field; Let everything boil with life: She is mine, she is mine! My heart tells me." The romance is permeated with a feeling of joy, happiness, cheerfulness, delight and love.

In terms of size, it (the romance) is small, consists of 16 lines, which are divided into two eight lines.

The image contained in the line “Beautiful day, happy day:” is striking in its

brightness. Especially bright are the lines “Wake up, groves and fields; Let everything boil with life: ”which express the feelings of the author of his thoughts and emotions.

The romance uses a cross rhyme, which can be schematically represented as: abab. It also uses lexical repetition, rhetorical question, personification, epithets.

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Anton Antonovich Delvig (1798-1831) was born in Moscow, in the family of a major general, who came from an impoverished family of Baltic German barons. In 1811, Delvig entered the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum, where he became close to Pushkin; he studied lazily, but he began to write poetry early, and already in 1814 they appeared in print, in the Bulletin of Europe (On the Capture of Paris - signed Russian). In 1818 he was elected to Free Society lovers of literature, sciences and arts. In poetry, he acted as an original successor of the neoclassical tradition (K. N. Batyushkova, A. Kh. Vostokova, and others). The almanac "Northern Flowers" (1824-1830), published by Delvig in collaboration with Pushkin, became one of the most successful and long-lived almanacs in Russian Empire. The main genres of his lyrics are imitations of ancient Greek poets (idylls) and poems in the spirit of Russians. folk songs. Delvig was one of the first in Russian poetry to develop the sonnet form; widely used hexameter, elegiac distichs, imitations of folk sizes.

As was answered earlier, on his way to understanding and accepting the ethical norms of antiquity, Delvig often turned to the genre of the idyll. The idea of ​​a distant historical era, about the world of the soul and the peculiarities of the relationship of idyllic heroes, Delvig formed at an early stage of creativity. In his searches, Delvig often turned to the recognized master genre form idyll - ancient Greek poet Theocritus.

Delvit's interest in anacreontic themes, reflected in a number of her works, was largely due to general crisis classicism with its focus on the universal human principle, indifference to the individuality of man.

The absence of historical details, everyday specifics, the use of names in the ancient Greek style for the nomination of heroes testified that the hedonistic world for Delvig was an abstract world of ideas.

The days of Delvig's Anacreontic works are characterized by an optimistic interpretation of death. It is death, along with love, that is the main theme of most of the author's idylls. To understand how the images of death and love are intertwined in Delvig's idyllic work, one should refer to his poem "Idyll (Once Titir and Zoya...)" (1827). Written in hexameter, it is a hymn to beautiful and eternal love against the backdrop of wonderful views. The images of Philemon and Baucis from Ovid's Metamorphoses, whom the gods allowed to die on the same day, turned them into trees growing from one root after death, helped Delvig to reveal the motive of a bright and boundless feeling. The transience of life does not evoke in Delvig a feeling of grief, which is so characteristic of Batyushkov and Zhukovsky. The motive of death does not become tragic in Idyll, because, despite the fact that Titir and Zoya die, their love only multiplies, merging with nature. The names inscribed by the heroes on plane trees become her symbols, and her whole life from youth to old age becomes one wonderful moment of love.

The theme of love became one of the main ones in many of Delvig's idylls. For example, in the idyll “The End of the Golden Age” (1828), the city youth Meletius fell in love with the beautiful shepherdess Amarilla, but did not keep his oath of allegiance. And then the whole country suffered misfortune. The tragedy touched not only Amarilla, who lost her mind and then drowned - the beauty of Arcadia faded, because the harmony between people and between man and nature was destroyed. And the person is to blame for this, into whose consciousness self-interest and selfishness have entered. Turning in the idyll “The End of the Golden Age” to the motif of the departure of the patriarchal way of life, which was replaced by the time of commercialism, Delvig reflected on his historical era, when poetry was increasingly dying out, giving way to the cold-blooded calculation of the “Iron Age”, which led to “the destruction of the harmonic integrity of man” (Delvig’s opposition to the “industrial direction” of Russian literature, led by Bulgarin). The image of the "golden" age is directly related to the idea of ​​Arcadia - a utopian, ideal country inhabited by shepherds, an unspoiled world of joys and sorrows, delights and disappointments. Arcadia, defined by Delvig as the scene of action in The End of the Golden Age, becomes as much an illusion as the Golden Age itself. "The End of the Golden Age", revealing the motive of the fatal influence of civilization on Arcadian customs, is rightfully considered Delvig's best idyll.

Thus, despite the fact that literary heritage Delvig is small, his idylls remain a monument to the aesthetic ideas of Pushkin's literary era.