thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
SYBIL, or THE TWO NATIONSBy Benjamin DisraeliBook 2 Chapter 5"You lean against an ancient trunk," said Egremont, carelesslyadvancing to the stranger, who looked up at him without any expression ofsurprise, and then replied. "They say 'tis the trunk beneath whosebranches the monks encamped when they came to this valley to raise theirbuilding. It was their house, till with the wood and stone around them, theirlabour and their fine art, they piled up their abbey. And then they were drivenout of it, and it came to this. Poor men! poor men!" "They would hardly have forfeited their resting-place had theydeserved to retain it," said Egremont. "They were rich. I thought it was poverty that was a crime,"replied the stranger in a tone of simplicity. "But they had committed other crimes." "It may be so; we are very frail. But their history has beenwritten by their enemies; they were condemned without a hearing; the peoplerose oftentimes in their behalf; and their property was divided with those onwhose reports it was forfeited." "At any rate, it was a forfeiture which gave life to thecommunity," said Egremont; "the lands are held by active men and notby drones." "A drone is one who does not labour," said the stranger;"whether he wear a cowl or a coronet, 'tis the same to me. Somebody Isuppose must own the land; though I have heard say that this individual tenureis not a necessity; but however this may be, I am not one who would object tothe lord, provided he were a gentle one. All agree the Monastics were easylandlords; their rents were low; they granted leases in those days. Theirtenants too might renew their term before their tenure ran out: so they weremen of spirit and property. There were yeomen then, sir: the country was notdivided into two classes, masters and slaves; there was some resting-placebetween luxury and misery. Comfort was an English habit then, not merely anEnglish word." "And do you really think they were easier landlords than ourpresent ones?" said Egremont, inquiringly. "Human nature would tell us that, even if history did not confessit. The Monastics could possess no private property; they could save no money;they could bequeath nothing. They lived, received, and expended in common. Themonastery too was a proprietor that never died and never wasted. The farmer hada deathless landlord then; not a harsh guardian, or a grinding mortgagee, or adilatory master in chancery, all was certain; the manor had not to dread achange of lords, or the oaks to tremble at the axe of the squandering heir. Howproud we are still in England of an old family, though, God knows, 'tis rare tosee one now. Yet the people like to say, We held under him, and his father andhis grandfather before him: they know that such a tenure is a benefit. Theabbot was ever the same. The monks were in short in every district a point ofrefuge for all who needed succour, counsel, and protection; a body ofindividuals having no cares of their own, with wisdom to guide theinexperienced, with wealth to relieve the suffering, and
and stare at theseruins, and think themselves very wise to moralize over time. They are thechildren of violence, not of time. It is war that created these ruins, civilwar, of all our civil wars the most inhuman, for it was waged with theunresisting. The monasteries were taken by storm, they were sacked, gutted,battered with warlike instruments, blown up with gunpowder; you may see themarks of the blast against the new tower here. Never was such a plunder. Thewhole face of the country for a century was that of a land recently invaded bya ruthless enemy; it was worse than the Norman conquest; nor has England everlost this character of ravage. I don't know whether the union workhouses willremove it. They are building something for the people at last. After an experimentof three centuries, your gaols being full, and your treadmills losing somethingof their virtue, you have given us a substitute for the monasteries." "You lament the old faith," said Egremont, in a tone ofrespect. "I am not viewing the question as one of faith," said thestranger. "It is not as a matter of religion, but as a matter of right,that I am considering it: as a matter, I should say, of private right andpublic happiness. You might have changed if you thought fit the religion of theabbots as you changed the religion of the bishops: but you had no right todeprive men of their property, and property moreover which under theiradministration so mainly contributed to the welfare of the community." "As for community," said a voice which proceeded neither fromEgremont nor the stranger, "with the monasteries expired the only typethat we ever had in England of such an intercourse. There is no community inEngland; there is aggregation, but aggregation under circumstances which make itrather a dissociating, than an uniting, principle." It was a still voice that uttered these words, yet one of a peculiarcharacter; one of those voices that instantly arrest attention: gentle and yetsolemn, earnest yet unimpassioned. With a step as whispering as his tone, theman who had been kneeling by the tomb, had unobserved joined his associate andEgremont. He hardly reached the middle height; his form slender, but wellproportioned; his pale countenance, slightly marked with the small pox, wasredeemed from absolute ugliness by a highly-intellectual brow, and large darkeyes that indicated deep sensibility and great quickness of apprehension.Though young, he was already a little bald; he was dressed entirely in black;the fairness of his linen, the neatness of his beard, his gloves much worn, yetcarefully mended, intimated that his very faded garments were the result ofnecessity rather than of negligence. "You also lament the dissolution of these bodies," saidEgremont. "There is so much to lament in the world in which we live,"said the younger of the strangers, "that I can spare no pang for thepast." "Yet you approve of the principle of their society; you prefer it,you say, to our existing life." "Yes; I prefer association to gregariousness." "That is a distinction," said Egremont, musingly. "It is a community of purpose that constitutes society,"continued the younger stranger; "without that, men
may be drawn intocontiguity, but they still continue virtually isolated." "And is that their condition in cities?" "It is their condition everywhere; but in cities that condition isaggravated. A density of population implies a severer struggle for existence,and a consequent repulsion of elements brought into too close contact. In greatcities men are brought together by the desire of gain. They are not in a stateof co-operation, but of isolation, as to the making of fortunes; and for allthe rest they are careless of neighbours. Christianity teaches us to love ourneighbour as ourself; modern society acknowledges no neighbour." "Well, we live in strange times," said Egremont, struck by theobservation of his companion, and relieving a perplexed spirit by an ordinaryexclamation, which often denotes that the mind is more stirring than it caresto acknowledge, or at the moment is capable to express. "When the infant begins to walk, it also thinks that it lives instrange times," said his companion. "Your inference?" asked Egremont. "That society, still in its infancy, is beginning to feel its way.""This is a new reign," said Egremont, "perhaps it is anew era." "I think so," said the younger stranger. "I hope so," said the elder one. "Well, society may be in its infancy," said Egremont slightlysmiling; "but, say what you like, our Queen reigns over the greatestnation that ever existed." "Which nation?" asked the younger stranger, "for shereigns over two." The stranger paused; Egremont was silent, but looked inquiringly. "Yes," resumed the younger stranger after a moment's interval."Two nations; between whom there is no intercourse and no sympathy; whoare as ignorant of each other's habits, thoughts, and feelings, as if they weredwellers in different zones, or inhabitants of different planets; who areformed by a different breeding, are fed by a different food, are ordered bydifferent manners, and are not governed by the same laws." "You speak of" said Egremont, hesitatingly. "THE RICH AND THE POOR."
earth in theirdescriptions of the facts of medieval life, or so lively in their rhythms, orcombine high drama so effectively with a sly sense of humor. One of the besttranslations I have seen is Burton Raffel's, but you cannot read his versionand get any real sense either of what alliterative poetry sounded like in the14th century, or what it should sound like today.Given theseconcerns, and especially since there is not even a bad translation of SirGawain and the Green Knight available on the internet, I have undertaken to providea translation which will be posted on this site. The first installment - Book1, through line 490 of the original - was posted at the end of March 1999, withmore to follow as it is completed. In what follows, I try to give readers asense of my philosophy of translations, so they will know where and how I havetried to remain close to the original, and where I have allowed my translationto diverge.My intention isto produce a faithful translation of both the form AND the content of theoriginal. The poem's 14th Century English is close enough to modern English insyntax and vocabulary, that it is often possible to salvage large bits of hisoriginal poetry with only minor modifications. But only sometimes. Much of thetime, the original vocabulary has gone the way of the dodo, and the translatormust find other words and phrasings that will carry the same sense as theoriginal. My strategywhen faced with this dilemma has been to produce a translation that faithfullyreflects the meaning of each LINE. but not of each individual word. In analliterative line, if you change one key word, you have to change all the restof them, in order to keep the alliteration synchronized. So there are caseswhere one of my lines varies considerably from the original, such as line 419,which I have translated "and raised the rich riot of his hair," whenthe original talks about the Green Knight lifting his locks above the crown ofhis head. Such translations are not word for word, but they preserve the narrativeimport of the line, while making it work as alliterative poetry. A similar,and somewhat more difficult problem, is presented by the fact that the poetuses short rhymed codas at the end of each strophe. These tags, called the"bob" and the "wheel" by medieval scholars, are a realchallenge since it is very hard to translate the meaning clearly AND maintain astrict rhyme scheme in short lines typically six syllables long. I have triedas much as possible to preserve many of the author's original rhymes, since typicallythey are quite important to the meaning.Since my goal is to keep theform of the original, to the extent that it can be reflected in modern English,I have also translated the poem into alliterative verse: that is, into poetryin which the lines are bound together by repetition of the initial consonantson the primary stressed syllables. I have chosen a form which is quite similarto the original, typically alliterating the first three of four stressed beatsin the line, with variable numbers of unstressed syllables, and variants inwhich only
two beats alliterate, or where two different consonants alliteratein the same line, or where the last beat in the line bears the alliteration (incontrast to the strict pattern observed by Beowulf, but not by the Gawainpoet.) I hope thatthis translation will convey to a modern audience something of the power,humor, and drama of the original.SirGawain and the Green KnightTranslation by Paul DeaneHistorical Prologue(1)The siege and assault having ceased at Troyas its blazing battlements blackened to ash,the man who had planned and plotted that treason had trial enough for thetruest traitor!Then Aeneas the prince and his honored lineplundered provinces and held in their powernearly all the wealth of the western isles.Thus Romulus swiftly arriving at Romesets up that city and in swelling pridegives it his name, the name it now bears;and in Tuscany Tirius raises up towns,and in Lombardy Langoberde settles the land,and far past the French coast Felix Brutusfounds Britain on broad hills, and so bright hopes begin, where wonders, wars,misfortune and troubled times have been,where bliss and blind confusionhave come and gone again.(2)From the founding of Britain by this brave prince, bold men have bred there,burning for war, stirring up turmoil through the turning years. More wonders inthe world have been witnessed here than anywhere else from that age forward. Butof all who were crowned kings over Britain the most honor was Arthur's, as oldtales tell.So I mean to make known a marvel on earth,an astonishing sight, as some men would call it, an extraordinary exploit amongArthur's wonders.Listen to this lay for a little while and as townsmen tell it, so this talewill trip along,a story pinned in patterns steadfast, steady, strong: aligned in linkingletters as folk have loved so long.Book I: Christmas in Camelot(3)One Christmas in Camelot King Arthur satat ease with his lords and loyal liegemenarranged as brothers round the Round Table.Their reckless jokes rang about that rich halltill they turned from the table to the tournament field and jousted likegentlemen with lances and laughs, then trooped to court in a carolling crowd. Forthe feast lasted a full fifteen days of meals and merriment (as much as couldfit.)Such gay glee must gladden the ear --by day what a din, and dancing by night!The halls and chambers were heaped with happy lords and ladies as high as youlike!There they were gathered with all the world's goodness: knights as kind asChrist himself,ladies as lovely as ever have lived, and the noblest king our nation has known.They were yet in the pride, in the prime of their youth,and filled as full of heaven's blessingas the king had strength of will. And mighty men surpassing all were gatheredon that hill.(4)While the year was as young as New Years can be the dais was prepared for adouble feast. The king and his company came in together when mass had beenchanted; and the chapel emptied as clergy and commons alike cried out, "Noel!Noel!" again and again.And the lords ran around loaded with parcels,palms extended to pass out presents, or crowded together comparing gifts.The ladies laughed when they lost at a game(that the winner was willing,
you may well believe!)Round they milled in a merry mob till the meal was ready, washed themselveswell, and walked to their places (the best for the best on seats raised above.)Then Guinevere moved gaily among them,took her place on the dais, which was dearly adorned with sides of fine silkand a canopied ceiling of sheer stuff: and behind her shimmering tapestriesfrom far Tarsus,embroidered, bedecked with bright gemsthat the jewelers would pay a pretty price forany day, but the finest gem in the field of sight looked back: her eyes weregrey.That a lovelier's lived to delightthe gaze - is a lie, I'd say!(5)But Arthur would not eat till all were served.He bubbled to the brim with boyish spirits:liked his life light, and loathed the thoughtof lazing for long or sitting still longer.So his young blood boiled and his brain ran wild, and in many ways moved himstill moreas a point of honor never to eat on a high holiday till he should have heard astrange story of stirring adventures, of mighty marvels to make the mindwonder, of princes, prowess, or perilous deeds.Or someone might come, seeking a knightto join him in jousting, enjoying the riskof laying their lives on the line like menleaving to fortune the choice of her favor.This was the king's custom at court, the practice he followed at pleasantfeasts heldin his hall; therefore with bold face he stood there straight and tall.As New Years proceeded apace he meant to have mirth with them all. (6)So he stood there stock-still, a king standing tall, talking of courtly triflesbefore the high table. By Guinevere sat Gawain the Good,and Agravaine of the Heavy Hand on the other side: knights of great worth, andnephews to the king. Baldwin, the bishop, was above, by the head, with Ywain,Urien's son, sitting across. These sat at the dais and were served with duehonor; and many mighty men were seated on either side.Then the first course came with a clamor of trumpets whose banners billowedbright to the eye, while kettledrums rolled and the cry of the pipes wakened awild, warbling musicwhose touch made the heart tremble and skip.Delicious dishes were rushed in, fine delicacies fresh and plentiful, piled sohigh on so many platters they had problems finding places to set down theirsilver bowls of steaming soup: no spot was clear. Each lord dug in withpleasure, and grabbed at what lay near: twelve platters piled past measure, brightwine, and foaming beer.(7)I need say no more how they served the food,for what fool would fancy their feast was a famine?But a new noise announced itself quickly enough to grant the high lord leave tohave dinner. The music had finished but a moment before, the first course justserved, and set before the court, when a horrible horseman hurtled through thedoors, his body as brawny as any can be, so bull-necked, big-thighed, bulky andsquare, so long-legged, large- limbed, looming so tall I can hardly tell if hewere half troll, or merely as large as living man can be -- a handsome one too;as hearty a hulk as ever rode horse. His back
and chest were broad as a barrel,but he slimmed at the waist, with a slender stomach, and his face was wellformed, with features sharp and clean -- Men sat there gaping, gasping at hisstrange, unearthly sheen, as if a ghost were passing, for every inch was green.(8)He was got up in green from head to heel:a tunic worn tight, tucked to his ribs;and a rich cloak cast over it, covered insidewith a fine fur lining, fitted and sewnwith ermine trim that stood out in contrastfrom his hair where his hood lay folded flat;and handsome hose of the same green huewhich clung to his calves, with clustered spurs of bright gold; beneath themstriped embroidered silk above his bare shanks, for he rode shoeless. Hisclothes were all kindled with a clear light like emeralds: His belt bucklessparkled, and bright stones were setin rich rows arranged up and down himself and his saddle. Worked in the silk weretoo many trifles to tell the half of: embroidered birds, butterflies, and otherthings in a gaudy glory of green and inlaid gold.And the bit and bridle, the breastplate on the horse, and all its tackle weretrimmed with green enamel, even the saddlestraps, the stirrups on which hestood, and the bows of his saddle with its billowing skirts which glimmered andglinted with green jewels.The stallion that bore him was the best of its breed it was plain, a greenhorse great and strong, that sidled, danced and strained, but the bridle-braidled it along, turning as it was trained.(9)He was a fine fellow fitted in green --And the hair on his head and his horse's matched.It fanned out freely enfolding his shoulders,and his beard hung below as big as a bush,all mixed with the marvelous mane on his head, which was cut off in curls cascadingto his elbows, wrapping round the rest of himlike a king's cape clasped to his neck.And the mane of his mount was much the same, but curled up and combed in crispknots, in braids of bright gold thread and brilliant green criss-crossed hairby hair.And the tossing tail was twin to the mane,for both were bound with bright green ribbons, strung to the end with longstrands of precious stones, and turned back tight in a twisted knot bright withtinkling bells of burnished gold.No such horse on hoof had been seen in that hall, nor horseman half so strangeas their eyes now held in sight.He looked a lightning flash, they say: he seemed so bright; and who would dareto clash in melee with such might?(10)Yet he had on no hauberk, nor a helmet for his head, neither neck-guard norbreastplate to break heavy blows, neither shaft nor shield for the shock ofcombat.But he held in one hand a sprig of hollythat bursts out greenest when branches are bare; and his other hand hefted ahuge and awful ax, a broad battleax with a bit to tell (take it who can) with alarge head four feet long: the green steel down the grain etched with gold, itsbroad edge burnished and bright, shaped razor-sharp to sheer through steel, andheld high on a
heavy staff which was bound at the base with iron bands gracefullyengraved in bright green patterns.A strap was strung through the steel head, running loop after loop down thelength of the handle, which was tied with tassels in abundance, attaching byrich braids onto bright green buttons. This rider reined in as he rode throughthe doors direct to the high dais without a word, giving no greeting, gazingdown on them all.His first word came when he stopped. "Where," he said, "is themaster of these men? I've a mind to see his face and would fancy a chat withthe fellow who wears the crown."To each lord he turned and glancing up and down he fixed each face to learn whichknight held most renown.(11)They stared at the stranger, stunned, a very long time.For each man wondered what it might meanthat man and mount both shone a shadeas green as the grass, and greener eventhan green enamel glows when gold makes it brighter.All eyes were on him, and some edged closer,wondering what in the world he would do.They had seen enough strange sights to know how seldom they are real; thereforethey feared him for a phantom, a sending from the Unseen Realm.So of all those noble knights, none dared answer but sat there stupefied by thestrength of his voice.A silence fell filling that rich hall as if they'd all fainted or suddenlyslept: their voices just vanished at their height.Some, I suppose, were not floored, but chose to be polite, letting their leaderand lord be first to speak to that knight.(12)Arthur stood watching adventure advanceand answered quickly as honor bid, neither awed nor afraid, saying,"Wanderer, know you are welcome here. dismount, if you may; make merry asyou wish, and we may learn in a little while what you would like.""So help me God who sits on high," he said, "No." "Itis not my purpose to pass any time in this place.But I have been told that your reputation towers to heaven: that your court andcastle are accounted the finest, your knights and their steeds as the sturdiestin steel, the best, the boldest, the bravest on earth, and as fitting foes inany fine sport.True knighthood is known here, or so the tale runs, which is why I have comecalling today.You may be sure by this branch that I bearthat I come in peace, with no plans for battle.I have a hauberk at home, and a helmet too,and other weapons I know well how to wield.Yet as war is not my wish I am wearing soft silk, but, if you are as bold asmen believe you to be, you will be glad to grant me the game that is mine byright." Then Arthur said, "I swear, most courteous, noble knight,if you'd like to battle bare, you'll not fail to find a fight."(13)"Never fear," he said, "I'm not fishing for a fight with thebeardless children on the benches all about.If I were strapped on steel on a sturdy horseno man here has might to match me.No, I have come to this court for a bit of Christmas fun fitting for