THEODOR BODER VERLAG

Jeremy Whitehall

Lucy Gray
Eine dokumentarische Fiktion

nach einem Gedicht von William Wordsworth
und einer Idee von Theodor Boder

Illustrationen von Roloff (Rolf Meier)



ISBN : 978-3-9521993-4-3
Einband : Paperback
Seiten/Umfang : ca. 320 Seiten - 20,5 x 13,5 cm
Erscheint : 1. Auflage 01.09.2011
Gewicht :

Preisinfo :

Die Farm der Familie Gray in Yorkshire

"Hinter einer Säule der Klosterruine, vom Regen nur schwach geschützt, steht der Verbrecher zitternd und total durchnässt. Vorsichtig schaut er an der Säule vorbei zu William und Lucy."

Illustrationen: Roloff

Fiktive Hintergründe zu einem Gedicht von William Wordsworth.

Inhalt:
Rekonstruktion der Ereignisse als Roman; Dokumente; Biografien.


Das Gedicht "Lucy Gray; or, Solitude" schrieb William Wordsworth im Jahre 1799 in Goslar. Es erzählt von einer wahren Begebenheit, die ihm seine Schwester Dorothy berichtet hatte – vom Schicksal eines kleinen Mädchens, das in Halifax, West Yorkshire, in einem Schneesturm verunglückte.


William Wordsworth
1770 - 1850
Geboren als zweiter Sohn eines Rechtsanwalts in Cockermouth im nordenglischen Lake District.
Während der Schulzeit war vor allem die Nähe zu der eindrucksvollen Berglandschaft seiner Heimat für den werdenden Dichter von Bedeutung.
Im Jahre 1843 wurde er als Nachfolger seines Freundes Southey zum 'Poet Laureate' ernannt.

Mehr über William Wordsworth:
www.wordsworth.org.uk


Rydal Mount, der letzte Wohnort William Wordsworths
Foto: Susanna Schlegel



Portrait of William Wordsworth by William Shuter, 1798
(This work of art is in the public domain.)

_____________________________________________

Das Gedicht:

Lucy Gray; or, Solitude


Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray,
And when I cross'd the Wild,
I chanc'd to see at break of day
The solitary Child.

No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide Moor,
The sweetest Thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!

You yet may spy the Fawn at play,
The Hare upon the Green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.

"To-night will be a stormy night,
You to the Town must go,
And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your Mother thro' the snow."

"That, Father! will I gladly do;
'Tis scarcely afternoon ---
The Minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the Moon."

At this the Father rais'd his hook
And snapp'd a faggot-band;
He plied his work, and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.

Not blither is the mountain roe;
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powd'ry snow
That rises up like smoke.

The storm came on before its time,
She wander'd up and down,
And many a hill did Lucy climb
But never reach'd the Town.

The wretched Parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide.

At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlook'd the Moor;
And thence they saw the Bridge of Wood
A furlong from their door.

And now they homeward turn'd, cry'd,
"In Heaven we all shall meet!"
When in the snow the Mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.

Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They track'd the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn-hedge,
And by the long stone-wall;

And then an open field they cross'd:
The marks were still the same;
They track'd them on, nor ever lost,
And to the Bridge they came.

They follow'd from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank,
And further there were none.

Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living Child,
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome Wild.

O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.


Composed 1799,
Published in Lyrical Ballads (2nd edition, 1800)