柯尔律治诗11首
Frost at Midnight
The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind. The owlet's cry
Came loud—and hark, again! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,
Have left me to that solitude, which suits
Abstruser musings: save that at my side
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully.
'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs
And vexes meditation with its strange
And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood,
This populous village! Sea, and hill, and wood,
With all the numberless goings-on of life,
Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame
Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not;
Only that film, which fluttered on the grate,
Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing.
Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature
Gives it dim sympathies with me who live,
Making it a companionable form,
Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit
By its own moods interprets, every where
Echo or mirror seeking of itself,
And makes a toy of Thought.
But O! how oft,
How oft, at school, with most believing mind,
Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars,
To watch that fluttering stranger ! and as oft
With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt
Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower,
Whose bells, the poor man's only music, rang
From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day,
So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me
With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear
Most like articulate sounds of things to come!
So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt,
Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams!
And so I brooded all the following morn,
Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine eye
Fixed with mock study on my swimming book:
Save if the door half opened, and I snatched
A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,
For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,
Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,
My play-mate when we both were clothed alike!
Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side,
Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm,
Fill up the intersperséd vacancies
And momentary pauses of the thought!
My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart
With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,
And think that thou shalt learn far other lore,
And in far other scenes! For I was reared
In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim,
And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.
But thou , my babe! shalt wander like a breeze
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags
Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds,
Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores
And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear
The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible
Of that eternal language, which thy God
Utters, who from eternity doth teach
Himself in all, and all things in himself.
Great universal Teacher! he shall mould
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.
摇篮里的婴儿，睡得安安稳稳。
多么幽静呵！幽静得这样出奇，
这样古怪，连沉思也受到牵掣，
也为之忐忑不安了。大海，山林，
这人烟密集的村落！大海，山林，
芸芸众生数不尽的营营扰扰，
都悄然如入梦乡。炉火不旺了，
细弱的蓝色火苗已不再抖动；
只有炉子上那一缕轻烟，还照旧
在那儿袅绕——只有它静不下来。
万籁俱寂中，它独自活动着，我想
它对我这个活人，会隐约萌生
几分亲切感，会乐于和我作伴吧。
闲荡的精灵（它到处寻觅自己的
回声或影像），凭着自己的心境
来解释轻烟的袅绕和怪态奇姿，
借幽思遐想来消遣。
哦！多少次，
我在学校里，怀着真诚信念
和殷切预期，凝望着炉子，守候着
那翩然浮现的“远客”！还有多少次，
我睁着两眼，居然分明梦见了
心爱的家乡，古老的教堂钟楼，
清脆的钟声——穷人仅有的音乐，
在热闹集日，从清晨响到黄昏，
悠扬悦耳，以酣畅淋漓的欢乐
撩拨我，纠缠我，在我听来，这音响
真像是对未来事物的分明预告！
我睁眼望着，直到梦中的佳境
诱我入眠，而睡眠又延长了美梦！
第二天，一上午我都闷闷沉沉，
害怕老师的嘴脸，便假装用功，
紧盯着叫我头昏眼花的课本；
而只要门儿半开，我便钻空子
赶忙偷觑一两眼，心儿急跳着，
巴望着门外真会有远客来临：
乡亲，婶子，或是亲爱的姐姐——
早几年和我穿相似童装的玩伴！
身边，摇篮里婴儿正在安睡，
寂静中，听得见他那轻柔的呼吸：
这声息仿佛填补了我的思绪里
那些零散空隙和短暂间歇！
玲珑姣好的婴儿！当我看着你，
心魂便因愉悦的柔情而震颤，
想到：你会在截然不同的场景中，
学到截然不同的知识！因为我
在都城长大，被关进幽暗庵堂，
除了天空和星星，没什么可看的。
而你呢，孩子！你会像清风一般
遨游在湖滨、沙岸和山岭高崖下，
仰望浩瀚的云海——云海也幻化出
湖泽、沙岸和山岭的图形；那么，
你就会看到各种瑰丽的景象，
你就会听到各种明晰的音响，
这些，都属于上帝永久的语言，
他在永恒中取法于万物，而又
让万物取法于他。宇宙的恩师！
他会塑造好你的心灵，既然
向心灵颁赐，也就让心灵索取。
那么，对于你，所有季节都美妙：
要么是盛夏，大地一片绿茸茸；
要么是早春，积雪的丛林灌莽里，
知更鸟歌唱在苍苔斑驳的苹果树
光秃的枝头，旁边的茅屋顶上，
晴雪初融，蒸发着水汽；檐溜
要么滴沥着，在风势暂息的时候
声声入耳，要么，凭借着寒霜的
神秘功能而凝成无声的冰柱，
静静闪耀着，迎着静静的月光。
1798年2月
France: An Ode
I
Ye Clouds! that far above me float and pause,
Whose pathless march no mortal may controul!
Ye Ocean-Waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,
Yield homage only to eternal laws!
Ye Woods! that listen to the night-birds singing,
Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined,
Save when your own imperious branches swinging,
Have made a solemn music of the wind!
Where, like a man beloved of God,
Through glooms, which never woodman trod,
How oft, pursuing fancies holy,
My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound,
Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,
By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!
O ye loud Waves! and O ye Forests high!
And O ye Clouds that far above me soared!
Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky!
Yea, every thing that is and will be free!
Bear witness for me, wheresoe'er ye be,
With what deep worship I have still adored
The spirit of divinest Liberty.I
II
When France in wrath her giant-limbs upreared,
And with that oath, which smote air, earth, and sea,
Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free,
Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared!
With what a joy my lofty gratulation
Unawed I sang, amid a slavish band:
And when to whelm the disenchanted nation,
Like fiends embattled by a wizard's wand,
The Monarchs marched in evil day,
And Britain joined the dire array;
Though dear her shores and circling ocean,
Though many friendships, many youthful loves
Had swoln the patriot emotion
And flung a magic light o'er all her hills and groves;
Yet still my voice, unaltered, sang defeat
To all that braved the tyrant-quelling lance,
And shame too long delayed and vain retreat!
For ne'er, O Liberty! with partial aim
I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame;
But blessed the paeans of delivered France,
And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.
III
'And what,' I said, 'though Blasphemy's loud scream
With that sweet music of deliverance strove!
Though all the fierce and drunken passions wove
A dance more wild than e'er was maniac's dream!
Ye storms, that round the dawning East assembled,
The Sun was rising, though ye hid his light!'
And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright;
When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory
Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory;
When, insupportably advancing,
Her arm made mockery of the warrior's ramp;
While timid looks of fury glancing,
Domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp,
Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;
Then I reproached my fears that would not flee;
'And soon,' I said, 'shall Wisdom teach her lore
In the low huts of them that toil and groan!
And, conquering by her happiness alone,
Shall France compel the nations to be free,
Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth their own.'
IV
Forgive me, Freedom! O forgive those dreams!
I hear thy voice, I hear thy loud lament,
From bleak Helvetia's icy caverns sent—
I hear thy groans upon her blood-stained streams!
Heroes, that for your peaceful country perished,
And ye that, fleeing, spot your mountain-snows
With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherished
One thought that ever blessed your cruel foes!
To scatter rage, and traitorous guilt,
Where Peace her jealous home had built;
A patriot-race to disinherit
Of all that made their stormy wilds so dear;
And with inexpiable spirit
To taint the bloodless freedom of the mountaineer—
O France, that mockest Heaven, adulterous, blind,
And patriot only in pernicious toils!
Are these thy boasts, Champion of human kind?
To mix with Kings in the low lust of sway,
Yell in the hunt, and share the murderous prey;
To insult the shrine of Liberty with spoils
From freemen torn; to tempt and to betray?
V
The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain,
Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game
They burst their manacles and wear the name
Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
O Liberty! with profitless endeavour
Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour;
But thou nor swell'st the victor's strain, nor ever
Didst breathe thy soul in forms of human power.
Alike from all, howe'er they praise thee,
(Nor prayer, nor boastful name delays thee)
Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions,
And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves,
Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions,
The guide of homeless winds, and playmate of the waves!
And there I felt thee!—on that sea-cliff's verge,
Whose pines, scarce travelled by the breeze above,
Had made one murmur with the distant surge!
Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare,
And shot my being through earth, sea, and air,
Possessing all things with intensest love,
O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.
February, 1798
咏法兰西
一
浮云呵！你们在高空飘荡又留停，
没有人能够左右你们的方向！
海浪呵！不论你们奔涌到何方，
你们只遵从造化永恒的律令！
林木呵！你们静听着鸣禽的夜歌，
倚立在溜滑险陡的半山坡上；
要么，摇曳着你们高傲的枝柯，
合成了浩浩天风的庄严吟唱！
多少回，仿佛有神灵呵护，
我走过樵夫未到的幽处，
为神奇幻影所导引，行进于
月光下花草蒙茸的弯弯路上，
除胡猜乱想外，我还动心于
种种粗犷形象和势不可遏的怪响！
你们呵，狂啸的波涛！高耸的林木！
在我头顶上飘然飞过的浮云！
升起的朝阳！愉悦的蔚蓝色天幕！
自由而又能永保自由的种种！
不论你们在何方，请为我作证：
证明我对最神圣的自由之神
是如何深心景仰，始终敬奉。
二
当初，法兰西愤然扬起了巨臂，
顿足如雷，以横扫海陆的诅咒
告知天下：她誓必赢得自由——
请作证吧，那时我如何喜忧交集！
我何等欢欣（尽管与庸奴为伍），
无畏地唱出了对她的崇高祝贺；
此后，为了压制这觉醒的民族，
像群妖在巫师魔杖下整队集合，
国王们汹汹然兴师问罪，
不列颠也加入这邪孽营垒；
虽然我眷爱祖国的海陆，
虽然亲友情谊和早岁恋情
使这种眷爱愈益强固，
使祖国山水园林都闪射瑰异光影；
然而，我的调门没有变，唱的是
向暴君兵甲英勇抗争者的胜负，
和难以摆脱的、久远的邦家之耻！
自由神呵！我从来也不曾出于偏心
让你的圣火明辉有丝毫减损；
我只为法兰西的解放而讴歌祝福，
也为不列颠的恶名而垂头悲恨。
三
“怕什么！”我说，“哪怕渎神的喧嚷
冲犯了解救生灵的福音佳调！
哪怕以激情醉意跳起的舞蹈
比狂人梦中所见的更为癫狂！
拂晓汇聚在东方的暴雨浓云
涂暗了天空，旭日却仍然升起！”
为抚慰我这期望而颤栗的灵魂，
嘈音息止了，万象光明而静谧；
法兰西用荣光灿烂的花环
把受伤滴血的额遮掩；
她勇于进击而师出无名，
她挥臂冲闯，比武夫还要狂躁；
见对手露出了惧怯神情，
猛然一顿足，叛乱之徒便被她踏倒，
有如负伤的蛟龙辗转于血泊；
于是，我谴责我无法消除的忧惧；
“快了，在那些低矮的窝棚，”我说，
“劳苦人会增长智慧，学习成材！
法兰西，除了沉醉于自身的欢快，
也会使各国都赢得自由，终于
全世界都让‘爱’和‘欢乐’来主宰。”
四
宽恕我，自由神！宽恕我那些梦想！
我听到：从瑞士荒寒的冰崖雪窟
传来了悲啼——是你在伤心痛哭，
一声声，在她血染的河川上回荡！
为守卫和平国土而捐躯的英烈！
以鲜血染红了山间白雪的人们！
宽恕我——我竟然有过那样的见解，
竟然祝福过你们残虐的敌人！
在和平女神定居的福地，
法兰西！你散布暴行和叛逆；
瑞士人爱乡土，爱风雪荒原，
你却要斩断这万缕亲缘与情意；
还要用深仇大恨来污染
山民们不曾流血便享有的自由权利；
你欺弄天公，你捣鬼，你盲目无知，
法兰西呵！你的“爱国”是歹毒骗术！
人类的骄子！你引以自豪的，难道是：
为霸权而奔逐，与各国君王结伴，
捕猎时呐喊助阵，也分享一脔；
劫掠自由民，用夺来的赃物去亵渎
自由神殿宇；又叛卖，又坑蒙拐骗？
五
“邪欲”和“愚昧”是自己的奴隶，想反抗
也反抗不成；在一场疯魔节目里，
他们把手铐挣脱了，亮出的标记
是“自由”——刻在一条更粗的锁链上！
哦，自由神！我费了多少时光
苦苦追寻你，却总是废然而止；
你不让赢家一赢了便得意扬扬，
你吐露心声也不靠人间的权势。
任何人，不管怎样称颂你，
（祈求或奉承又岂能打动你，）
都一样：教会的贪婪党羽，
渎神帮派更其鄙陋的庸奴，
都被你弃绝；你展翅飞去，
与千顷海波戏耍，为八面天风引路！
在那儿，我发现你了！——在海畔高崖，
恍惚有微风吹过的株株松树
正低吟细语，与涛声遥相应答！
当我悄立着，凝望着，两鬓临风，
把神魂投向大地、海水和天空，
以无比浓烈的爱心去拥抱万物，
自由神呵！我感到：你真身就在其中。
1798年2月
Lewti
Or the Circassian Love-chaunt
At midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam
And the shadow of a star
Heaved upon Tamaha's stream;
But the rock shone brighter far,
The rock half sheltered from my view
By pendent boughs of tressy yew.—
So shines my Lewti's forehead fair,
Gleaming through her sable hair.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
I saw a cloud of palest hue,
Onward to the moon it passed;
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,
Till it reached the moon at last:
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light!
And so with many a hope I seek,
And with such joy I find my Lewti;
And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of beauty!
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind,
If Lewti never will be kind.
The little cloud—it floats away,
Away it goes; away so soon!
Alas! it has no power to stay:
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey —
Away it passes from the moon!
How mournfully it seems to fly,
Ever fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky —
And now 'tis whiter than before!
As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, Lewti! on my couch I lie,
A dying man for love of thee.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind—
And yet, thou didst not look unkind.
I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin, and white, and very high;
I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud:
Perhaps the breezes that can fly
Now below and now above,
Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud
Of Lady fair—that died for love.
For maids, as well as youths, have perished
From fruitless love too fondly cherished.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind—
For Lewti never will be kind.
Hush! my heedless feet from under
Slip the crumbling banks for ever:
Like echoes to a distant thunder,
They plunge into the gentle river.
The river-swans have heard my tread,
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds! methinks ye measure
Your movements to some heavenly tune!
O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure
To see you move beneath the moon,
I would it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.
I know the place where Lewti lies,
When silent night has closed her eyes:
It is a breezy jasmine-bower,
The nightingale sings o'er her head:
Voice of the Night! had I the power
That leafy labyrinth to thread,
And creep, like thee, with soundless tread,
I then might view her bosom white
Heaving lovely to my sight,
As these two swans together heave
On the gently-swelling wave.
Oh! that she saw me in a dream,
And dreamt that I had died for care;
All pale and wasted I would seem,
Yet fair withal, as spirits are!
I'd die indeed, if I might see
Her bosom heave, and heave for me!
Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind!
To-morrow Lewti may be kind.
1798
柳蒂
切尔克西亚情歌
我深夜徘徊在小河边上，
想忘掉心上人儿的形象。
离开我的心吧，柳蒂的倩影！
既然柳蒂她对我无情。
月儿高挂，淡淡的月光
和一颗星儿闪烁的倒影
映在塔玛哈荡漾的河上；
那一片白岩更透亮通明——
白岩被一棵披拂的紫杉
横斜的枝叶遮挡了一半；
柳蒂的白额也同样明艳，
被黑发遮挡，也隐约半现。
离开我的心吧，柳蒂的倩影！
既然柳蒂她对我无情。
我望见一朵云，灰暗无光，
向前边，向着月亮游去；
它渐渐亮些了，越来越亮，
色泽变化着，一会儿一个样，
终于相遇了——与月亮相遇；
这时呵，只见它明辉遍体，
像琥珀一般，光鲜华丽！
犹如这朵云，我追寻不舍，
以同样的欢情，与柳蒂相会；
犹如这朵云，我灰暗的脸色
吸取了同样灿烂的明辉！
离开我的心吧，欺人的倩影！
只怕柳蒂永不会多情。
这小小浮云呵，渐游渐远，
它悄然走了，走得这么快？
它停留不住，它无法流连，
它气色灰白，它容光暗淡——
从月亮身边匆促离开！
光彩消褪了，越来越阴郁，
它神情显得多么悲哀，
游向那没有欢乐的境域——
此刻比方才更加惨白！
我面容也会同样憔悴，
柳蒂呵！我会卧床不起，
为了爱你而一命垂危。
离开我的心吧，欺人的倩影！
可是，你看去又不像无情。
我望见一片烟霭在空中，
高高的，淡淡的，白白净净；
我从未见过这么淡的云气；
也许那忽上忽下的清风
吹动的时候，曾经掀起过
一位娟秀少女的尸衣——
她是为了爱情而殒殁。
世间有多少痴女和痴郎
死去了，都只为爱情无望！
离开我的心吧，欺人的倩影！
既然柳蒂永不会多情。
别响动！我总是漫不经心
悄悄走下那断裂的河堤，
仿佛应答着悠远的雷鸣，
把双脚投入徐流的水里。
天鹅听到了我的脚步，
惊动了，从芦苇巢中游出。
俏丽的飞禽！你们的动作
宛如配合着天国的乐曲！
望见你们在月光下游过，
是何等爽心悦目的佳趣，
愿你们真正以此为乐——
白天入睡，而通宵醒着。
静夜里，柳蒂两眼已合上，
我知道她那安歇的地方：
那儿是幽闺，有微风吹拂，
有茉莉飘香，有夜莺吟唱——
静夜之歌呵！我若有门路
潜入那枝青叶翠的闺房，
步子轻轻的，就像你一样，
我就会窥见她白嫩胸脯
在我的眼前娇柔地起伏，
恰似这一对雪白的天鹅
浮游于起伏不定的柔波。
哦！但愿她也曾梦见我，
梦见我死了——死于心事；
我一脸苍白，一身瘦弱，
却依然俊秀，有如天使！
我真想死去，只要能目睹
她胸脯起伏——为我而起伏！
宽慰我的心吧，温柔的倩影！
明天柳蒂也许会多情。
1798年
Fears in Solitude
Written in April 1798, during the alarm of an invasion
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,
All golden with the never-bloomless furze,
Which now blooms most profusely: but the dell,
Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate
As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax,
When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve,
The level sunshine glimmers with green light.
Oh! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook!
Which all, methinks, would love; but chiefly he,
The humble man, who, in his youthful years,
Knew just so much of folly, as had made
His early manhood more securely wise!
Here he might lie on fern or withered heath,
While from the singing lark (that sings unseen
The minstrelsy that solitude loves best),
And from the sun, and from the breezy air,
Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame;
And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found
Religious meanings in the forms of Nature!
And so, his senses gradually wrapt
In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds,
And dreaming hears thee still, O singing lark,
That singest like an angel in the clouds!
My God! it is a melancholy thing
For such a man, who would full fain preserve
His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel
For all his human brethren—O my God!
It weighs upon the heart, that he must think
What uproar and what strife may now be stirring
This way or that way o'er these silent hills—
Invasion, and the thunder and the shout,
And all the crash of onset; fear and rage,
And undetermined conflict—even now,
Even now, perchance, and in his native isle:
Carnage and groans beneath this blessed sun!
We have offended, Oh! my countrymen!
We have offended very grievously,
And been most tyrannous. From east to west
A groan of accusation pierces Heaven!
The wretched plead against us; multitudes
Countless and vehement, the sons of God,
Our brethren! Like a cloud that travels on,
Steamed up from Cairo's swamps of pestilence,
Even so, my countrymen! have we gone forth
And borne to distant tribes slavery and pangs,
And, deadlier far, our vices, whose deep taint
With slow perdition murders the whole man,
His body and his soul! Meanwhile, at home,
All individual dignity and power
Engulfed in Courts, Committees, Institutions,
Associations and Societies,
A vain, speech-mouthing, speech-reporting Guild,
One Benefit-Club for mutual flattery,
We have drunk up, demure as at a grace,
Pollutions from the brimming cup of wealth;
Contemptuous of all honourable rule,
Yet bartering freedom and the poor man's life
For gold, as at a market! The sweet words
Of Christian promise, words that even yet
Might stem destruction, were they wisely preached,
Are muttered o'er by men, whose tones proclaim
How flat and wearisome they feel their trade:
Rank scoffers some, but most too indolent
To deem them falsehoods or to know their truth.
Oh! blasphemous! the Book of Life is made
A superstitious instrument, on which
We gabble o'er the oaths we mean to break;
For all must swear—all and in every place,
College and wharf, council and justice-court;
All, all must swear, the briber and the bribed,
Merchant and lawyer, senator and priest,
The rich, the poor, the old man and the young;
All, all make up one scheme of perjury,
That faith doth reel; the very name of God
Sounds like a juggler's charm; and, bold with joy,
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place,
(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism,
Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fringéd lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven,
Cries out, 'Where is it?'
Thankless too for peace,
(Peace long preserved by fleets and perilous seas)
Secure from actual warfare, we have loved
To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war!
Alas! for ages ignorant of all
Its ghastlier workings, (famine or blue plague,
Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows,)
We, this whole people, have been clamorous
For war and bloodshed; animating sports,
The which we pay for as a thing to talk of,
Spectators and not combatants! No guess
Anticipative of a wrong unfelt,
No speculation on contingency,
However dim and vague, too vague and dim
To yield a justifying cause; and forth,
(Stuffed out with big preamble, holy names,
And adjurations of the God in Heaven,)
We send our mandates for the certain death
Of thousands and ten thousands! Boys and girls,
And women, that would groan to see a child
Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war,
The best amusement for our morning meal!
The poor wretch, who has learnt his only prayers
From curses, who knows scarcely words enough
To ask a blessing from his Heavenly Father,
Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute
And technical in victories and defeats,
And all our dainty terms for fratricide;
Terms which we trundle smoothly o'er our tongues
Like mere abstractions, empty sounds to which
We join no feeling and attach no form!
As if the soldier died without a wound;
As if the fibres of this godlike frame
Were gored without a pang; as if the wretch,
Who fell in battle, doing bloody deeds,
Passed off to Heaven, translated and not killed;
As though he had no wife to pine for him,
No God to judge him! Therefore, evil days
Are coming on us, O my countrymen!
And what if all-avenging Providence,
Strong and retributive, should make us know
The meaning of our words, force us to feel
The desolation and the agony
Of our fierce doings?
Spare us yet awhile,
Father and God! O! spare us yet awhile!
Oh! let not English women drag their flight
Fainting beneath the burthen of their babes,
Of the sweet infants, that but yesterday
Laughed at the breast! Sons, brothers, husbands, all
Who ever gazed with fondness on the forms
Which grew up with you round the same fire-side,
And all who ever heard the sabbath-bells
Without the infidel's scorn, make yourselves pure!
Stand forth! be men! repel an impious foe,
Impious and false, a light yet cruel race,
Who laugh away all virtue, mingling mirth
With deeds of murder; and still promising
Freedom, themselves too sensual to be free,
Poison life's amities, and cheat the heart
Of faith and quiet hope, and all that soothes,
And all that lifts the spirit! Stand we forth;
Render them back upon the insulted ocean,
And let them toss as idly on its waves
As the vile sea-weed, which some mountain-blast
Swept from our shores! And oh! may we return
Not with a drunken triumph, but with fear,
Repenting of the wrongs with which we stung 1
So fierce a foe to frenzy!
I have told,
O Britons! O my brethren! I have told
Most bitter truth, but without bitterness.
Nor deem my zeal or factious or mistimed;
For never can true courage dwell with them,
Who, playing tricks with conscience, dare not look
At their own vices. We have been too long
Dupes of a deep delusion! Some, belike,
Groaning with restless enmity, expect
All change from change of constituted power;
As if a Government had been a robe,
On which our vice and wretchedness were tagged
Like fancy-points and fringes, with the robe
Pulled off at pleasure. Fondly these attach
A radical causation to a few
Poor drudges of chastising Providence,
Who borrow all their hues and qualities
From our own folly and rank wickedness,
Which gave them birth and nursed them. Others, meanwhile,
Dote with a mad idolatry; and all
Who will not fall before their images,
And yield them worship, they are enemies
Even of their country!
Such have I been deemed.—
But, O dear Britain! O my Mother Isle!
Needs must thou prove a name most dear and holy
To me, a son, a brother, and a friend,
A husband, and a father! who revere
All bonds of natural love, and find them all
Within the limits of thy rocky shores.
O native Britain! O my Mother Isle!
How shouldst thou prove aught else but dear and holy
To me, who from thy lakes and mountain-hills,
Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas,
Have drunk in all my intellectual life,
All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts,
All adoration of the God in nature,
All lovely and all honourable things,
Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel
The joy and greatness of its future being?
There lives nor form nor feeling in my soul
Unborrowed from my country! O divine
And beauteous Island! thou hast been my sole
And most magnificent temple, in the which
I walk with awe, and sing my stately songs,
Loving the God that made me!—
May my fears,
My filial fears, be vain! and may the vaunts
And menace of the vengeful enemy
Pass like the gust, that roared and died away
In the distant tree: which heard, and only heard
In this low dell, bowed not the delicate grass.
But now the gentle dew-fall sends abroad
The fruit-like perfume of the golden furze:
The light has left the summit of the hill,
Though still a sunny gleam lies beautiful,
Aslant the ivied beacon. Now farewell,
Farewell, awhile, O soft and silent spot!
On the green sheep-track, up the heathy hill,
Homeward I wind my way; and lo! recalled
From bodings that have well-nigh wearied me,
I find myself upon the brow, and pause
Startled! And after lonely sojourning
In such a quiet and surrounded nook,
This burst of prospect, here the shadowy main,
Dim-tinted, there the mighty majesty
Of that huge amphitheatre of rich
And elmy fields, seems like society—
Conversing with the mind, and giving it
A livelier impulse and a dance of thought!
And now, belovéd Stowey! I behold
Thy church-tower, and, methinks, the four huge elms
Clustering, which mark the mansion of my friend;
And close behind them, hidden from my view,
Is my own lowly cottage, where my babe
And my babe's mother dwell in peace! With light
And quickened footsteps thitherward I tend,
Remembering thee, O green and silent dell!
And grateful, that by nature's quietness
And solitary musings, all my heart
Is softened, and made worthy to indulge
Love, and the thoughts that yearn for human kind.
Nether Stowey, April 20, 1798
孤独中的忧思
作于1798年4月，时方有外敌入侵之警
葱翠而幽静，在群山环抱之中，
这小小一片山谷！歌吟的云雀
从未飞临过比这儿更清幽的处所。
山野长满了石楠，只除了那面
隆起的斜坡——它另有鲜妍的覆盖：
四季常开的金雀花如今最丰美，
把斜坡染成耀眼的金黄；这一片
谷地呵，沐着潮雾，清新而淡雅，
好像春日的麦田，也像在傍晚，
平射的阳光横贯了未熟的亚麻
半透明的茎秆，闪烁着碧绿光泽。
哦，这是个苏慰心神的幽境！
我想，这幽境人人都喜爱，而首先
是他——那谦逊的凡人，他青年时期
做过那么多蠢事，到成年以后，
总算熬炼得比较聪明懂事了。
在此幽境里，他会偃卧于野蕨
或枯枝败叶上；飞鸣的云雀（虽不见
形影，歌声却适合这幽僻地方），
朗照的红日，飘拂的清风，无不
给他以温馨陶养：他身心震颤，
多少种情怀，多少种思绪，汇成了
沉思冥想的愉悦，在自然界的
千形万态里体味出神圣内涵！
于是，他的官觉迷茫了，仿佛在
假寐，梦见了世外的洞天佳境，
而梦中仍然听到你，歌吟的云雀呵，
你高唱入云，宛若云端的天使！
上帝呵！对于这个人，他乐于享有
心魂的宁静，却又不能不关切
寰宇之内他亿兆兄弟的悲欢，
上帝呵！这真是令人忧烦的景况！
如重负压在心头，他不能不想到：
这寂寂群山之外，这边或那边，
有什么纷争与骚乱正嚣然而起，
入侵，雷轰电掣，人喊马嘶，
攻城炮火的震响，凶狂与恐怖，
胜负未卜的征战，屠杀与呻吟，
说不定，此刻，就在他祖国之岛，
就在这一片神圣阳光下发生！
我们犯下了罪孽，祖国同胞们！
是呵！令人痛心地，我们犯下了
极其残暴的罪孽。从东方到西方，
控告我们的呼声冲破了天宇！
受苦的黎民在指斥我们：他们，
不计其数的、怒火如焚的群众，
都是上帝的子孙，我们的兄弟！
有如开罗瘴疠沼泽上蒸发的
滚滚浓云，我们曾汹汹出动，
把奴役和苦难带给远方的部族；
更其凶险的，我们的污毒腐恶
就像软刀子慢条斯理地杀人，
把躯体和灵魂一齐摧毁！同时，
在我们国内，个人的尊严和才智
统统都被淹没了：淹没于宫廷，
委员会，机关，团体，社交圈子，
发表演说和记录演说的场所，
为互相捧场而设立的互助公会；
财富如满杯污水，我们当美酒
喝干了，像敬神那样必恭必敬；
公然鄙弃所有庄严的准则，
出卖自由，出卖穷人的性命
去赚取黄金，就像在拍卖行里！
基督教甘美的许诺，只要宣讲得
明智得体，本可以避凶防患；
却总被教士们念念叨叨，那调子
表明了他们自己也厌烦这行业；
有人因此而嘲讽教义，多数人
心神怠惰，认不出虚伪或真诚。
罪过呵！生命之书已经变成了
邪孽的文件，我们一手按着它，
喋喋背诵着存心毁弃的誓词；
人人都得要起誓——人人，处处：
学校和码头，官府衙门和法院；
人人都得要起誓：行贿者，受贿者，
商人和律师，议员和神职人员，
富人，穷人，老年人，后生小子，
人人定出了一套发假誓的计谋；
信仰已摇摇欲坠，就连上帝的
大名，听来也像是巫师的咒语；
无神论，好似猫头鹰，得意而张狂，
扑动污秽的双翅，在堂堂中午，
从阴森隐僻的藏身处钻了出来，
（不祥的景象！）它横空飞过，垂下
蓝睫毛，闭着眼，向高天红日狂叫：
“哪里有什么太阳？”
对于和平，
我们也不知珍视（和平么，长期
是靠着舰队，靠着惊险的大海
保住的）；在并无战争危险时，我们
也鼓噪喧嚣，热中于动武！多年来
茫然无知于战祸的惨烈（饥馑，
瘟疫，肉搏，围歼，雪地上的溃逃）；
我们，全民族，都为了战争而呐喊，
以为那只是游戏，不付出代价，
以为那只是清谈的题目，我们
不过是看客，用不着真动刀枪！
既未预见到我们此后的恶行，
也未思忖过由此导致的后果，
或想得太少，根本不足以萌生
对恶行应有的义愤；作恶以后呢，
又是大段开场白，又是种种
神圣的名目，又是上帝的谕示，
终于，朝廷下令了，叫千千万万人
奔向注定的一死！男孩子，女孩子，
还有妇人（她们连看见顽童
扯断昆虫的腿儿也惊叫不休），
天天来阅读打仗的新闻——那才是
我们早餐时最佳的消遣！穷小子，
他出口的祝词便是咒骂，认识的
几个字，还不够向天父祷告乞恩，
如今也变得能说会道了，俨然
懂得了兵家胜负的道理，学会了
残杀骨肉的那一套高雅言词；
这些言词我们用惯了，说起来
滔滔滚滚，却那样虚浮而空洞，
既不带感情，也不成样式！仿佛
士兵战死时周身没一处创伤；
仿佛他天神一般的躯体被戳穿
而不觉痛楚；仿佛这短命儿郎
搏斗时血流遍体，终于倒毙
是超度升天，而不是惨遭杀害；
仿佛他没有妻子一心挂念他，
也没有上帝对他作最后审判！
就为了这些，同胞们，厄运降临了！
若真是天网恢恢，果报不爽，
我们横暴的言词，凶残的行径，
都难逃罪责，都得要自食苦果，
我们又抱怨谁呢？
再宽恕一回吧，
圣父和神明！再宽恕我们一回吧！
不要让英国妇人惊惶逃命，
背儿抱女，因不堪重负而昏晕——
这些娇柔可爱的娃娃呵，昨天
还在母亲怀抱里眉开眼笑呢！
儿子，兄弟，丈夫，所有对这些
在自己家里炉火边生长的娃娃
一见就爱的人们，所有听到过
安息日钟声，而不像异教徒那样
报之以轻蔑的人们，把身心净化吧！
站出来，做堂堂男子！击退顽敌，
那邪恶虚伪、轻浮暴戾的族类，
他们耻笑所有的美德，把欢乐
与屠杀相搅混；对别人以自由相许，
自己却沉迷于嗜欲而并不自由；
他们毒害了人间亲睦的情谊，
欺骗了虔诚的、志趣恬静的心灵，
盗走了宽慰和振奋人心的一切！
让我们站出来，赶他们回去，叫他们
在惊涛险浪上翻滚，像几簇海草
被一阵强风扫离我们的海岸！
可是呵！愿我们得胜归来的时候
也不要陶醉于战功，却怀着忧思
和忏悔，悔不该把这等狂躁的敌人
刺激得凶性大发！
我已经说出了，
同胞们！说出了不少刻毒言语，
心底却不怀刻毒。请不要认为
我的忧愤是出于派系偏见
或是不合时宜的；国内若有人
耍手腕，回避良心，不敢正视
己方的罪责，那才是毫无勇气！
荒唐妄想把我们蒙骗太久了！
也许有些人，心怀怨恨，盼望着
换掉执政当局会迎来变革；
他们以为政府是一件袍子，
我们的恶行劣迹都缀于其上，
有如花边和流苏，可以跟袍子
一块儿扔掉。这些人懵懵懂懂，
眼见我们受到上帝的惩罚，
只知归咎于少数执政者，其实
执政者的形象和品质，全是承袭了
国民的愚妄与卑污——正是这些
劣根性诞育了他们，哺养了他们。
另有一些人，一味醉心于狂热的
偶像崇拜，任何人只要不情愿
向他们的偶像俯伏效忠，就成了
国家的公敌！
我也被他们加上过
这样的罪名；可是呵，亲爱的不列颠！
我祖国之岛！你可以证明：对于我
这么一个儿子、兄弟、丈夫、
父亲和朋友来说，你是最珍贵
而又最神圣的名字！我虔敬地怀有
出于天性的爱心，而所爱的一切
从未越出你岩石峥嵘的海岸。
生身的不列颠！祖国之岛呵！你怎能
证明我并非如此，既然我是从
你的湖山和云霞，你的岩石
和大海，你的幽静的谷地，吸取了
我全部心智的精髓，甘美的柔情，
高洁的思想，对自然之神的崇奉，
内心世界中可爱可敬的一切，
这个肉体凡胎的一切欢乐
和他未来生命里宏伟的前程？
在我灵魂中，没有哪一种形象
或情感，不是出自我亲爱的祖国！
神奇富丽的岛呵！你是我惟一的、
最庄严雄伟的圣殿，我满怀敬畏
在殿内徐行，以肃穆颂歌来赞美
造我的上帝！
但愿我那些忧思，
儿女一般的忧思，是愚妄无稽的！
但愿敌人报复的狂言和恫吓
犹如一股风，呼吼着，逐渐消失于
远处的树丛：风声传不出这低洼的
谷地，风力吹不弯柔弱的小草。
此刻呵，温柔的傍晚，把金雀花丛
鲜果一般的香气向四方传送；
日光已经辞别了远山峰顶，
只留下一道绮艳余晖，斜照着
青藤密布的灯塔。那么，再见吧，
下回再见吧，安适而清幽的去处！
我踏过绿野，走上长满石楠的
山丘，盘旋行进在回家路上；
摆脱了那些不快的预感，我发现
自己已登上山头，不由得停下来，
心灵也为之一震！在群山围堵的
幽僻角落里独自勾留了那么久，
眼底蓦然展现出这一片空旷：
这边，黝暗的海水，那边，丰美的
林木蔚然的盆地，场景广阔
而气度不凡，像赋有生命的群体
正在与心灵殷切对话，使心灵
怦然跃动，想象也飘然起舞！
此刻呵，可爱的斯托伊！我已望见了
教堂尖塔，和相依相聚的四棵
高大榆树，那是我友人的寓所；
在榆树后边藏而不露的，是我那
简陋小屋，那儿有我的孩子
和他的母亲，小日子安安静静。
我加快脚步向那儿走去，却还在
惦记着你呵，葱翠清幽的山谷！
Fam. Sisters! sisters! who sent you here?
Slau . [to Fire ]. I will whisper it in her ear.
Fire . No! no! no!
Spirits hear what spirits tell:
'Twill make a holiday in Hell.
No! no! no!
Myself, I named him once below,
And all the souls, that damnéd be,
Leaped up at once in anarchy,
Clapped their hands and danced for glee.
They no longer heeded me;
But laughed to hear Hell's burning rafters
Unwillingly re-echo laughters!
No! no! no!
Spirits hear what spirits tell:
'Twill make a holiday in Hell!
Fam . Whisper it, sister! so and so!
In a dark hint, soft and slow.
Slau . Letters four do form his name—
And who sent you?
Both . The same! the same!
Slau . He came by stealth, and unlocked my den,
And I have drunk the blood since then
Of thrice three hundred thousand men.
Both . Who bade you do't?
Slau . The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name.
He let me loose, and cried Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due.
Fam . Thanks, sister, thanks! the men have bled,
Their wives and their children faint for bread.
I stood in a swampy field of battle;
With bones and skulls I made a rattle,
To frighten the wolf and carrion-crow
And the homeless dog—but they would not go.
So off I flew: for how could I bear
To see them gorge their dainty fare?
I heard a groan and a peevish squall,
And through the chink of a cottage-wall—
Can you guess what I saw there?
Both. Whisper it, sister! in our ear.
Fam . A baby beat its dying mother:
I had starved the one and was starving the other!
Both . Who bade you do't?
Fam. The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name.
He let me loose, and cried, Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due.
Fire. Sisters! I from Ireland came!
Hedge and corn-fields all on flame,
I triumph'd o'er the setting sun!
And all the while the work was done,
On as I strode with my huge strides,
I flung back my head and I held my sides,
It was so rare a piece of fun
To see the sweltered cattle run
With uncouth gallop through the night,
Scared by the red and noisy light!
By the light of his own blazing cot
Was many a naked Rebel shot:
The house-stream met the flame and hissed,
While crash! fell in the roof, I wist,
On some of those old bed-rid nurses,
That deal in discontent and curses.
Both . Who bade you do 't?
Fire . The same! the same!
Letters four do form his name.
He let me loose, and cried Halloo!
To him alone the praise is due.
All . He let us loose, and cried Halloo!
How shall we yield him honour due?
Fam. Wisdom comes with lack of food.
I'll gnaw, I'll gnaw the multitude,
Till the cup of rage o'erbrim:
They shall seize him and his brood—
Slau . They shall tear him limb from limb!
Fire . O thankless beldames and untrue!
And is this all that you can do
For him, who did so much for you?
Ninety months he, by my troth!
Hath richly catered for you both;
And in an hour would you repay
An eight years' work?—Away! away!
I alone am faithful! I
Cling to him everlastingly.
1798
烈火、饥馑与屠杀
场景为旺代 荒无人烟的旷野。幕启时，女怪“饥馑”正席地而卧；“烈火”与“屠杀”两女怪登场并向她走来。
饥馑 两姐姐来此，是奉谁之命？
屠杀 ［对烈火］我附耳悄悄说给她听。
烈火 不行！不行！不行！
魔怪的言语魔怪能听到：
地狱里会像过节般热闹！
不行！不行！不行！
我曾在地狱里说出他姓名，
天杀的鬼魂们刚一听到，
便一跃而起，全都乱了套，
又鼓掌欢呼，又手舞足蹈。
他们对我再也不关照；
狞笑着，听椽子毕剥燃烧，
四下里回响着他们的狂笑！
不行！不行！不行！
魔怪的言语魔怪能听到：
地狱里会像过节般热闹！
饥馑 慢慢轻轻地，透露他姓氏——
只要稍稍给一点暗示！
屠杀 他姓氏是四个字母相加。
谁派你们来？
两怪 也是他！也是他！
屠杀 他偷偷前来，打开我洞穴，
从那时算起，我这些年月
喝足了九十万人的鲜血。
两怪 谁叫你干的？
屠杀 也是他！也是他！
他姓氏是四个字母相加。
他放我出来，吆喝我：快干！
只有他才配让我来夸赞。
饥馑 谢姐姐指教！男子们战死，
饿坏了他们的孩儿和妻子。
我站在湿漉漉一片战场上，
把枯骨、天灵盖梆梆敲响，
想吓唬豺狼、乌鸦和野狗，
这些孽畜呵，吓也吓不走。
我赶紧离开——怎忍心看到
孽畜们大嚼那美味佳肴？
又听得一声嚎哭，一声哼，
透过那破屋土墙的裂缝——
你们猜，我瞧见什么情景？
两怪 你附耳悄悄说给我们听。
饥馑 娃娃要吸奶，妈妈快毙命，
我饿杀了母亲，正饿杀幼婴。
两怪 谁叫你干的？
饥馑 也是他！也是他！
他姓氏是四个字母相加。
他放我出来，吆喝我：快干！
只有他才配让我来夸赞。
烈火 两姐姐请听！我来自爱尔兰，
那里的庄稼、篱栅都烧完；
我的光辉比夕阳更壮丽！
我忙个不休，一气干到底；
我阔步前进，一路招摇，
我扭头回顾，捧腹大笑；
那真是一出难得的好戏：
看牛群被烫得不敢停蹄，
被红光和喧闹吓得发了昏，
彻夜不歇地撒野狂奔！
蓬屋亮晃晃，趁亮好开枪，
光身的乱党便七死八伤；
房顶的积水见了火嗞嗞响，
哗啦啦！一下子漏进了住房，
泼洒在卧病的老嬷嬷身上，
她只得气呼呼咒骂一场。
两怪 谁叫你干的？
烈火 也是他！也是他！
他姓氏是四个字母相加。
他放我出来，吆喝我：快干！
只有他才配让我来夸赞。
三怪 他放出我们，叫我们大干，
我们该如何把他来夸赞？
饥馑 人们越挨饿，懂得就越多。
我会让千千万万人挨饿，
愤怒的狂潮会汹涌泛滥：
人们会捉住他，捉住他一伙——
屠杀 会把他肢解，砍成几段！
烈火 这两个忘恩负义的婆子！
为你们，他做了那么多好事，
你们对待他却不过如此？
我可以作证：他八年以来
总是摆盛筵将你们款待；
你们只用一小时来报答
八年的恩典？——去吧！去吧！
只有我，才对他忠贞无比，
要将他紧抱，永不分离！
1798年
The Nightingale
A Conversation Poem
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!
You see the glimmer of the stream beneath,
But hear no murmuring: it flows silently,
O'er its soft bed of verdure. All is still,
A balmy night! and though the stars be dim,
Yet let us think upon the vernal showers
That gladden the green earth, and we shall find
A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
And hark! the Nightingale begins its song,
'Most musical, most melancholy' bird!
A melancholy bird? Oh! idle thought!
In Nature there is nothing melancholy.
But some night-wandering man whose heart was pierced
With the remembrance of a grievous wrong,
Or slow distemper, or neglected love,
(And so, poor wretch! filled all things with himself,
And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale
Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he,
First named these notes a melancholy strain.
And many a poet echoes the conceit;
Poet who hath been building up the rhyme
When he had better far have stretched his limbs
Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell,
By sun or moon-light, to the influxes
Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements
Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song
And of his fame forgetful! so his fame
Should share in Nature's immortality,
A venerable thing! and so his song
Should make all Nature lovelier, and itself
Be loved like Nature! But 'twill not be so;
And youths and maidens most poetical,
Who lose the deepening twilights of the spring
In ball-rooms and hot theatres, they still
Full of meek sympathy must heave their sighs
O'er Philomela's pity-pleading strains.
My Friend, and thou, our Sister! we have learnt
A different lore: we may not thus profane
Nature's sweet voices, always full of love
And joyance! 'Tis the merry Nightingale
That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates
With fast thick warble his delicious notes,
As he were fearful that an April night
Would be too short for him to utter forth
His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul
Of all its music!
And I know a grove
Of large extent, hard by a castle huge,
Which the great lord inhabits not; and so
This grove is wild with tangling underwood,
And the trim walks are broken up, and grass,
Thin grass and king-cups grow within the paths.
But never elsewhere in one place I knew
So many nightingales; and far and near,
In wood and thicket, over the wide grove,
They answer and provoke each other's song,
With skirmish and capricious passagings,
And murmurs musical and swift jug jug,
And one low piping sound more sweet than all—
Stirring the air with such a harmony,
That should you close your eyes, you might almost
Forget it was not day! On moonlight bushes,
Whose dewy leaflets are but half-disclosed,
You may perchance behold them on the twigs,
Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full,
Glistening, while many a glow-worm in the shade
Lights up her love-torch.
A most gentle Maid,
Who dwelleth in her hospitable home
Hard by the castle, and at latest eve
(Even like a Lady vowed and dedicate
To something more than Nature in the grove)
Glides through the pathways; she knows all their notes,
That gentle Maid! and oft, a moment's space,
What time the moon was lost behind a cloud,
Hath heard a pause of silence; till the moon
Emerging, hath awakened earth and sky
With one sensation, and those wakeful birds
Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy,
As if some sudden gale had swept at once
A hundred airy harps! And she hath watched
Many a nightingale perched giddily
On blossomy twig still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song
Like tipsy Joy that reels with tossing head.
Farewell, O Warbler! till to-morrow eve,
And you, my friends! farewell, a short farewell!
We have been loitering long and pleasantly,
And now for our dear homes.—That strain again!
Full fain it would delay me! My dear babe,
Who, capable of no articulate sound,
Mars all things with his imitative lisp,
How he would place his hand beside his ear,
His little hand, the small forefinger up,
And bid us listen! And I deem it wise
To make him Nature's play-mate. He knows well
The evening-star; and once, when he awoke
In most distressful mood (some inward pain
Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream—)
I hurried with him to our orchard-plot,
And he beheld the moon, and, hushed at once,
Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,
While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears,
Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! Well!—
It is a father's tale: But if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up
Familiar with these songs, that with the night
He may associate joy.—Once more, farewell,
Sweet Nightingale! Once more, my friends! Farewell.
April, 1798
夜莺
没有了云霞，没有了西边惹眼的
回光落照，没有了缕缕残晖，
没有了深浓而明灭不定的色彩。
来吧，在这座苍苔古桥上歇着！
看得见桥下河水的微光，却又
听不到声息：水呵，轻悄地流过
平软青翠的河床。全都安静了，
好一个温馨的夜晚！星星虽不亮，
却令人想象沛然而来的春雨
把绿野浇得好畅快——我们会察觉
星斗无光的时刻也别有幽欢。
听呵！夜莺唱起了宛转的曲调，
这“最为悦耳，最为忧郁”的鸣禽！
忧郁的鸣禽么？哦！无稽的想法！
自然界的生灵不知忧郁为何物。
超初，无非是一个夜游者，伤感于
记忆中萦回的旧恨，或沉疴宿疾，
或遭人白眼的爱情，这苦命人儿
便把自身的情感推及于万类：
任何甘美的调子，他听来都像是
诉他的冤苦——他，或同类角色，
最先把“忧郁”加之于夜莺的歌曲。
不少诗人也附和了这种奇谈；
诗人么，常常致力于雕章琢句，
他与其如此，远不如悠然偃卧在
树林苍翠、苔藓如茵的谷地里，
傍着溪流，沐着日光或月光，
把他的灵根慧性，全然交付给
大自然的光景声色和风云变幻，
忘掉他的歌和他的名声！那么，
在整个大自然的庄严不朽之中，
他的名声也有其一份；那么，
他的歌就会使自然更加可爱，
这歌声也会像自然一样动人！
而事实并非如此；善于吟咏的
才郎才女们，把大好春宵虚掷于
舞厅与繁嚣剧院，他们向来是
恻隐为怀，对于夜莺的啼叫
总是要深表哀怜，唏嘘叹息。
我的朋友呵，还有你，我们的姐妹！
我们既另有志趣，就不要像他们
那样曲解大自然曼妙的嗓音——
这嗓音总是盈溢着爱和欢悦！
这是快乐的夜莺，迅疾地，迫促地，
滔滔不绝地倾吐着清婉的旋律，
仿佛它担心：四月的一夜太短了，
来不及唱完一篇篇爱情赞歌，
来不及让它载满了乐曲的灵魂
卸下这沉沉重负！
我知道有一片
广阔林地，在一座古堡近旁，
古堡已无人居住，那片树林呢，
也就荒芜了，灌木与丛莽纠结着，
平整的道路已残破不堪，而草，
驴蹄草和纤细野草滋生于路面。
有夜莺聚居于此，其数量之多
为任何别处所不及；远远近近，
林中各处的树丛灌莽间，都听到
它们此一唱彼一和，互相逗引着：
小小的口角，变化多端的争执，
佳妙动听的喁语，急速的啼唤，
笛韵一般的低吟——比什么都柔美，
以一派雍融合奏激荡着天穹，
你若是闭上两眼，简直就忘了
这是昏夜而不是白天！月光下，
灌木丛中，露水沾湿的嫩叶
半舒半卷着，有时看得见枝头
栖息的夜莺，眼睛圆圆的，亮亮的；
树下幽暗处，点点流萤燃起了
爱情的明烛。
一位温雅的少女，
住在她殷勤好客的家中，与那座
古堡相邻；她，在迟迟暮色里，
（犹如一位淑女在林中许愿，
愿为某种超凡的灵物而献身，）
轻悄地踏过小路；这温雅少女呵，
她熟悉夜莺的各种曲调；往往，
当月亮被浮云掩没，那一片歌吟
便戛然而止，霎时间声息全消；
而等到月亮重新露脸，激动了
大地和长空，这些醒着的鸣禽
又一齐倾吐出欢愉的合唱，俨如
一阵突起的天风，同时掠过了
百十架风瑟！这少女也曾窥见过
多少只夜莺，晃晃悠悠地停歇在
开花的枝头，随着清风而颠摆，
歌调也配合摆动而飘忽不定，
像欢乐之神喝醉了，在摇头晃脑。
再见了，歌手们！到明天晚上再见！
跟你们也再见，朋友们！暂时分手吧！
我们已经畅游了好一阵，现在
该回家——亲爱的家了。那歌声又响了！
想叫我留下别走！瞧我的爱儿，
他呀，连一个词语也说不清楚，
咿咿呀呀地模仿着，把什么都说错，
这时却会把手儿，小小的手儿
举到耳旁，竖起小小的食指，
叫我们细听！我想，聪明的高招
是让他从小就成为大自然的游伴。
他认识黄昏星；有一回他梦中醒来，
哭得怪伤心的（某种潜在的痛苦
造成了那种怪物——幼童的噩梦），
我急忙抱他到屋后小小果园里，
他一眼望见月亮，立时静默了，
止住了呜咽，安恬地笑了起来，
泪水还盈盈欲滴的一双亮眼
在淡黄月色里闪闪发光！好啦，
这是个父亲所讲的故事；而只要
老天让我活下去，我就会让他
厮伴着夜莺的啼啭而成长，让他的
夜晚融合着欢乐。——又一次再见，
甜美的夜莺！又一次，朋友们，再见！
1798年4月
The Ballad of the Dark Ladié
A Fragment
Beneath yon birch with silver bark,
And boughs so pendulous and fair,
The brook falls scatter'd down the rock:
And all is mossy there!
And there upon the moss she sits,
The Dark Ladié in silent pain;
The heavy tear is in her eye,
And drops and swells again.
Three times she sends her little page
Up the castled mountain's breast,
If he might find the Knight that wears
The Griffin for his crest.
The sun was sloping down the sky,
And she had linger'd there all day,
Counting moments, dreaming fears—
Oh wherefore can he stay?
She hears a rustling o'er the brook,
She sees far off a swinging bough!
''Tis He! 'Tis my betrothéd Knight!
Lord Falkland, it is Thou!'
She springs, she clasps him round the neck,
She sobs a thousand hopes and fears,
Her kisses glowing on his cheeks
She quenches with her tears.
* * *
'My friends with rude ungentle words
They scoff and bid me fly to thee!
O give me shelter in thy breast!
O shield and shelter me!
'My Henry, I have given thee much,
I gave what I can ne'er recall,
I gave my heart, I gave my peace,
O Heaven! I gave thee all.'
The Knight made answer to the Maid,
While to his heart he held her hand,
'Nine castles hath my noble sire,
None statelier in the land.
'The fairest one shall be my love's,
The fairest castle of the nine!
Wait only till the stars peep out,
The fairest shall be thine:
'Wait only till the hand of eve
Hath wholly closed yon western bars,
And through the dark we two will steal
Beneath the twinkling stars!'—
'The dark? the dark? No! not the dark?
The twinkling stars? How, Henry? How?'
O God! 'twas in the eye of noon
He pledged his sacred vow!
And in the eye of noon my love
Shall lead me from my mother's door,
Sweet boys and girls all clothed in white
Strewing flowers before:
But first the nodding minstrels go
With music meet for lordly bowers,
The children next in snow-white vests.
Strewing buds and flowers!
And then my love and I shall pace,
My jet black hair in pearly braids,
Between our comely bachelors
And blushing bridal maids.
* * *
1798
黑女郎
残稿
那一棵桦树，树皮银白，
白净的枝条悬空摇摆，
树下，岩石上，溪水喷溅，
处处长满了青苔！
青苔地上坐着黑女郎，
她一言不发，愁容满面；
大颗的泪水刚刚滴落，
又重新涨满了双眼。
她三次打发身边的侍童
爬上山坡（山上有城堡），
要他去寻找那一位骑士——
盔上有鹰狮徽号。
红日从高空渐渐西垂，
她已经在这儿呆了一整天，
忐忑不安，计算着时刻——
他为何久久拖延？
忽听得溪水那边有响动，
又望见花束挥动不已；
“是他！是和我定情的骑士！
福克兰勋爵，是你！”
她跳了起来，搂住他脖子，
哭诉着千百种心愿和忧疑；
她的吻在他两颊上燃烧，
又被她泪水浇熄。
…………
“我那些同伴出言不逊，
他们奚落我，叫我投奔你；
用你的胸膛来保护我吧，
保护我，将我掩蔽！
“亨利呵，我给你给得够多了：
我给了有去无还的宝物，
我给了我的心，我的安宁，
天哪！我给了全部！”
骑士便把女郎的纤手
拉向自己的胸怀，答道：
“我高贵父亲拥有九座
无比壮丽的城堡。
“最壮丽的一座我要献给你，
九座城堡中，数它第一！
只消等到星星一露面，
那座城堡就归你！
“只消等到黄昏的巨掌
收拾干净了西方的余晖，
趁着黑夜，星光闪烁，
我们俩远走高飞！”
“黑夜？黑夜？星光闪烁？
不对！亨利！是怎么回事？”
上帝呵！是中午，灿烂阳光下，
他立下山盟海誓！
就该在中午，灿烂阳光下，
我郎君领着我走出娘家，
男孩和女孩，白衣如雪，
在前边抛洒鲜花；
走在前头的是一队乐师，
乐曲高雅，与华屋相配；
接着是孩子们，衣衫雪白，
抛洒鲜花和蓓蕾！
我郎君和我要并肩前行，
我发辫乌黑，亮如珠玉；
两旁是一行俊俏的儿郎，
一列娇羞的少女。
…………
1798年
Kubla Khan
Or, a Vision in a Dream. A Fragment.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
1798
忽必烈汗
忽必烈汗把谕旨颁布：
在上都兴建宫苑楼台；
圣河阿尔弗流经此处，
穿越幽深莫测的洞窟，
注入阴沉的大海。
于是十里膏腴之地
都被高墙、岗楼围起；
苑囿鲜妍，有川涧蜿蜒流走，
有树木清香飘溢，花萼盛开；
苍黯的密林，与青山同样悠久，
把阳光映照的绿茵环抱起来。
哦！那一道幽壑，深严诡谲，
沿碧山迤逦而下，横过松林！
蒙昧的荒野！圣洁而又中了邪，
恍若有孤身女子现形于昏夜，
在残月之下，哭她的鬼魅情人！
幽壑里声如鼎沸，喧嚣不已，
仿佛是大地急促地喘着粗气，
原来有大股泉水滔滔涌出，
偶有间歇，接着又急急喷吐，
水一冲，石块像冰雹纷纷跳起，
又像连枷捶打下飞迸的谷粒；
从这些蹦跳的乱石中间穿过，
片刻不歇地腾跃着那条圣河。
圣河旋绕，像迷宫曲径一样，
流程五里，越过林地和峡谷，
而后才进抵幽深莫测的洞窟，
终于，喧哗着，投入死寂的海洋。
这片喧哗里，忽必烈宛然听到
祖先悠远的声音——战争的预告！
殿宇楼台的迷离倒影
在粼粼碧波上漂摇荡漾；
在这里可以从容谛听
喷泉、溶洞的融合音响。
这真是穷工极巧，旷代奇观：
冰凌洞府映衬着艳阳宫苑！
我一度神游灵境，瞥见
一少女扬琴在手：
她是个阿比西尼亚女郎，
她吟唱阿玻若山的风光， ?
用扬琴悠扬伴奏。
但愿那琴声曲意
重现于我的深心，
那么，我就会心醉神迷，
就会以悠长高亢的乐音
凌空造起那琼楼玉殿——
那艳阳宫阙，那冰凌洞府！
凡听见乐曲的都能瞧见；
“留神！留神！”他们会呼唤，
“他长发飘飘，他目光闪闪！ ?
要排成一圈，绕他三度，
要低眉闭目，畏敬而虔诚，
因为他摄取蜜露为生，
并有幸啜饮乐园仙乳。”
1798年
Something Childish, but very Natural
Written in Germany
If I had but two little wings
And were a little feathery bird,
To you I'd fly, my dear!
But thoughts like these are idle things,
And I stay here.
But in my sleep to you I fly:
I'm always with you in my sleep!
The world is all one's own.
But then one wakes, and where am I?
All, all alone.
Sleep stays not, though a monarch bids:
So I love to wake ere break of day:
For though my sleep be gone,
Yet while 'tis dark, one shuts one's lids,
And still dreams on.
April 23, 1799
幼稚却很自然的心事
只要我是会飞的小鸟，
有一双翅膀，一身羽毛，
我就飞向你，我的爱！
可惜这想法太玄，飞不了，
只好留下来。
可是睡着了，我就飞向你：
睡梦中，我和你常在一起，
世界是我的地盘！
忽然醒过来——这是在哪里？
我孤孤单单！
国王下令也留不住睡眠，
我醒来总是在天亮以前；
虽说睡眠已离开，
天还黑着呢，不如闭上眼，
又做起梦来。
1799年4月23日
Home-sick
Written in Germany
'Tis sweet to him, who all the week
Through city-crowds must push his way,
To stroll alone through fields and woods,
And hallow thus the Sabbath-day.
And sweet it is, in summer bower,
Sincere, affectionate and gay,
One's own dear children feasting round,
To celebrate one's marriage-day.
But what is all to his delight,
Who having long been doomed to roam,
Throws off the bundle from his back,
Before the door of his own home?
Home-sickness is a wasting pang;
This feel I hourly more and more:
There's healing only in thy wings,
Thou breeze that play'st on Albion's shore!
May 6, 1799
乡愁
作于德国
闹市的行人，一星期六天
都在人堆里挨挨挤挤，
星期天独自到林间野外
信步闲游——有多么惬意！
夏日园亭里有人设席，
他全家围坐，儿女绕膝，
由衷地欢庆结婚纪念日，
情意绵绵——又多么甜蜜！
这种种乐趣怎么比得上
远游者经过多年漂荡，
终于回到了老家门口，
赶忙卸下背负的行囊？
乡愁是一种磨人的病痛，
时时缠着我，越来越重；
只有你呵，能把它治好，
艾尔宾海岸飘拂的清风！
1799年5月6日
Love
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay
Beside the ruined tower.
The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene
Had blended with the lights of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!
She leant against the arméd man,
The statue of the arméd knight;
She stood and listened to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.
Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve.
I played a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story—
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
For well she knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burning brand;
And that for ten long years he wooed
The Lady of the Land.
I told her how he pined: and ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love,
Interpreted my own.
She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face!
But when I told the cruel scorn
That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he crossed the mountain-woods,
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade,—
There came and looked him in the face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Fiend,
This miserable Knight!
And that unknowing what he did,
He leaped amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land;
And how she wept, and clasped his knees;
And how she tended him in vain—
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain;—
And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay;—
His dying words—but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp
Disturbed her soul with pity!
All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,
Subdued and cherished long!
She wept with pity and delight,
She blushed with love, and virgin-shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name.
Her bosom heaved—she stepped aside,
As conscious of my look she stepped—
Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.
She half enclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, looked up,
And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
I calmed her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
My bright and beauteous Bride.
我常常神游幻境，把从前
良辰和美事重温一遍——
那时，我躺在半山腰上，
在一座废塔旁边。
月色悄然笼罩了山野，
融合了傍晚的暧暧余晖；
她也在——我的希望和欢乐，
我的心上人珍妮薇！
她背靠一座雕像——雕的是
一名骑士，披挂着戎装；
她立在迟留未褪的余晖里，
听我把歌谣吟唱。
她自己难得有什么忧愁，
珍妮薇！我的希望和欢乐！
她最喜爱的是听我吟唱
惹她伤感的悲歌。
我弹的琴韵幽婉凄凉，
我唱的歌谣动人心曲——
古老而粗犷，正好配得上
那一片废址荒墟。
她静静听着，低垂着两眼，
怯生生，脸上泛起羞红；
因为她明知，我目不旁视，
只盯着她的面容。
我唱给她听：有一名骑士，
盾牌上刻着明晃晃火炬；
足足有十年，他苦苦思恋
当地无双的淑女。
一唱到骑士害相思，唉！
歌声也幽咽、深沉、恳挚：
我唱着别人的爱情，也就
表明了自己的心事。
她静静听着，低垂着两眼，
怯生生，脸上泛起羞红；
她已经原谅我那副痴相——
只盯着她的面容。
我唱道：那淑女冷若冰霜，
英武骑士急得发了狂，
他骑着马儿奔入山林，
没日没夜地游荡；
时而从蛮荒原始的洞穴，
时而从昏冥隐僻的树荫，
时而从阳光和煦的林地，
有仙灵蓦地现身——
是一位光明俊秀的天使，
定睛把骑士细细端详；
不幸的骑士！他心里明白：
那不是天使，是魔王！
自己也弄不清干了些什么，
他扑向一伙凶徒恶汉，
救出那淑女，使她幸免于
比死还糟的劫难；
淑女哭起来，抱住他膝盖，
细心护理他，却毫无效果——
是她的冷酷害得他发了狂，
如今她力图补过；
她在山洞里将他护理，
骑士的疯病终于消退，
他默默躺在枯黄落叶上，
已经是一命垂危。
唱到了骑士临终的遗言——
歌谣里最为动情的一段，
我嗓音战栗，琴声止息，
她呢，也柔肠欲断！
神魂和官感交相激荡，
震撼了珍妮薇纯净的身心；
这凄惨故事，这幽婉琴韵，
这芳馨浓丽的黄昏！
希望和煽起希望的羞怯
纷纭纠结，难以区分，
久经掩抑的柔情密愿，
掩抑却久久珍存！
她哭了，有悲悯也有欣幸，
脸红了，为爱情也为娇羞；
她低唤我的名字，听来
像梦呓一样轻柔。
胸脯起伏着，她移开一步，
知道我盯着她，想要闪躲；
突然，眼神里满含羞怯，
她哭着投身于我。
她轻舒双臂将我拥抱，
柔顺地贴近我的心胸；
她抬起头来向我仰视，
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