II

 

Leendabiziko arratsaldean gertatu zan.

Norbaitek Belgrave Square’n dantza egin bear genula esan,

Belgrave Square danik Victoriano ezin geiagokoa—

Duke, ministro ta kondeen alaba zoragarri oiengandik

Nobela irakurleen artean, norbaitek negar egin ez ote?

Txano, txapel, gonazpiko, txamarreta estuekin,

Victoriar aurpegi-ordeko garbi artean ain biotz kartsu,

Kartsuagoak onenean—

Orain txapel eta galtzerdi alde batera uzten dituztenak baño?

Nork ez negar egin Lady Joan edo Jill’engaitik

Guraso ospetsuen aurka bear ez zana maite zutelako,

Guda-mutil galantak palmondo atzean mun egiñaz

Lady Ivry’n dantzan, gau latz artan

Bere taldea gudara joan aurretik;

Urrengo goizean, zumardian, berriro ikusi,

Gudari-jantzi osoarekin, ontziratzera prest.

Gazte denboran, nere baitatik, irakurri nituen

Ez bakarrik Meredith eta Oscar Wilde,

Aspaldi-garaiko nobela ugariak ere—

Ravenshoe, Can You Forgive Her? Vivien Grey,

Ouida,The Duchess, Broughton’s Red As A Rose,

Guy Livingstone, Whyte-Melville— Jainkoak daki

Zenbatzuk. Orain, nere buruari nion, ikusiko ditut

Bere bizitegiak, bañan, Dee’ko errotariari bezela,

Iñor ez zitzaidan ajola ta iñori ez nion ajolarik.

 

 

 

II

It happened the first evening I was there. / Some one was giving a ball in Belgrave Square. / At Belgrave Square, that most Victorian spot.— / Lives there a novel-reader who has not / At some time wept for those delightful girls, / Daughters of dukes, prime ministers and earls, / In bonnets, berthas, bustles, buttoned basques, / Hiding behind their pure Victorian masks / Hearts just as hot—hotter perhaps than those / Whose owners now abandon hats and hose? / Who has not wept for Lady Joan or Jill / Loving against her noble parent’s will / A handsome guardsman, who to her alarm / Feels her hand kissed behind a potted palm / At Lady Ivry’s ball the dreadful night / Before his regiment goes off to fight; / And see him the next morning, in the park, / Complete in busbee, marching to embark. / I had read freely, even as a child, / Not only Meredith and Oscar Wilde / But many novels of an earlier day— / Ravenshoe, Can You Forgive Her?, Vivien Grey, / Ouida, The Duchess, Broughton’s Red As a Rose, / Guy Livingstone, Whyte-Melville—Heaven knows / What others. Now, I thought, I was to see / Their habitat, though like the Miller of Dee, / I cared for none and no one cared for me.