Презентация по английскому языку на тему По страницам произведений Лонгфелло 9 класс

ПО СТРАНИЦАМ ПРОИЗВЕДЕНИЙ ЛОНГФЕЛЛО Учитель английского языка высшей категории МБОУ лицей №25 Иваненко А.В.г. Димитровград Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882) Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who was born in February 27,1807 was an American poet who wrote many works that are still famous today. Born in Maine, Longfellow lived for most of his life in Cambridge, Massachusetts. His father was a lawyer. Longfellow went to school at the age of only three and by age of six when he entered the Portland Academy, he was able to read and write quite well. He remained at the Portland Academy until the age of fourteen and entered College in Brunswick, Maine in 1822. After graduating in 1825, he was offered a professorship. During his years at the college, he wrote textbooks in French, Italian and Spanish. In 1831, he married Mary Storer Potte, who died during one of his travels to Europe in 1835. After that, Longfellow took up the professorship at Harvard University. He began publishing his poetry, including "Voices of the Night" in 1839 and "Ballads and Other Poems", which included his famous poem, "The village Blacksmith", in 1841. He retired from Harvard in 1854, devoting himself entirely to writing. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow died on March 24,1882. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow is buried at Mount Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge, Massachusetts. In 1884 he was the first American poet to have a bust of him placed in Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey in London. Происходил из старинной йоркширской семьи, переселившейся в Америку в XVII в. и жившей в строгих пуританских традициях. Поэт воспитывался сначала в маленьком родном городе своём, Портленде, много читал, увлекался Вашингтоном Ирвингом и под его влиянием стал писать стихи. Университетское образование Лонгфелло получил в Bowdoin College, в Брунсвике, и после годичного пребывания в Европе сделался профессором новых языков сначала в Брунсвике, потом в Гарвардском университете . NATURE As a fond mother, when the day is o’erLeads by the hand her little child to bed,Half willing, half reluctant to be ledAnd leave his broken playthings on the floor;Still gazing at them through the open door,Nor wholly reassured and comfortedBy promises of others in their stead,Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;So nature deals with us, and takes awayOur playthings one by one, and by the handLeads us to rest so gently, that we goScarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,Being too full of sleep to understandHow far the unknown transcends the what we know. H.W. Longfellow NATUREAs a fond mother, when the day is o’erLeads by the hand her little child to bed,Half willing, half reluctant to be ledAnd leave his broken playthings on the floor;Still gazing at them through the open door,Nor wholly reassured and comfortedBy promises of others in their stead,Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;So nature deals with us, and takes awayOur playthings one by one, and by the handLeads us to rest so gently, that we goScarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,Being too full of sleep to understandHow far the unknown transcends the what we know. H.W. Longfellow ПРИРОДА Нежно мать на закате за руку ведетРебенка – а он неохотно идет,Не зная, желает ли спать или нет,И смотрит усталым игрушкам воследИ верит, что взрослые правы во всем,Хоть в чем-то их мысли и наперекорЖеланьям его… Так природа и насВедет очень мягко, и верим сейчас,Что сами идем… Отбирает она"Игрушки" у нас на мгновение сна…Идем мы, не зная, хотим ли идтиИли остаться – смешались пути,И не знаем теперь, далеко или нетСмех и печаль наших будущих лет. Перевод: М.А. Белицкая NATUREAs a fond mother, when the day is o’erLeads by the hand her little child to bed,Half willing, half reluctant to be ledAnd leave his broken playthings on the floor;Still gazing at them through the open door,Nor wholly reassured and comfortedBy promises of others in their stead,Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;So nature deals with us, and takes awayOur playthings one by one, and by the handLeads us to rest so gently, that we goScarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,Being too full of sleep to understandHow far the unknown transcends the what we know. H.W. Longfellow Песнь о Гайавате Во вступлении автор вспоминает музыканта Навадагу, когда-то в старинные времена певшего песнь о Гайавате: «О его рожденье дивном, / О его великой жизни: / Как постился и молился, / Как трудился Гайавата, / Чтоб народ его был счастлив, / Чтоб он шёл к добру и правде» … Тhе Arrow аnd the Song I shot аn arrow into the air, It fell to еаrth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flеw the sight Could поt follow it in its flight. I breathed а song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and stroпg Тhat it саn follow the flight of а song? Long, long afterward, in аn oak I fоund the arrow still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to еnd, I fоund again iп the heart оf а fгiеnd. H.W. Longfellow Стрела и песняИз лука ввысь взвилась стрела ... Не знаю, где она легла. И мне, глядящему вперед, Невидим был ее полет. И песня в мир моя ушла ... Не знаю, где она легла. За тьмой лесов, за цепью гор Не уследил за песней взор. Прошли года. Стрела нашлась ... В широкий дуб она впилась ... А песнь, с начала до конца, Моих друзей хранят сердца. Перевод Б. Томашевского