第 21 节
作者:闪啊闪      更新:2023-08-28 11:48      字数:9319
  the words of doom: ‘‘The children to the Tiber;                  The mother to the
  tomb。''
  IX
  Two and two behind the twins                  Their trusty comrades go; Four
  and forty valiant men;             With club; and axe; and bow。 On each side
  every    hamlet           Pours    forth  its  joyous   crowd;   Shouting    lads  and
  baying   dogs;          And   children   laughing   loud;  And   old   men   weeping
  fondly           As   Rhea's   boys   go   by;   And   maids   who   shriek   to   see   the
  heads;          Yet; shrieking; press more nigh。
  X
  So marched they along the lake;              They marched by fold and stall;
  By cornfield and by vineyard;              Unto the old man's hall。
  XI
  In the hall…gate sat Capys;             Capys; the sightless seer; From head
  to foot he trembled             As Romulus drew near。 And up stood stiff his
  thin white hair;           And his blind eyes flashed fire: ‘‘Hail! foster child
  of the wondrous nurse!             Hail! son of the wondrous sire!''
  XII
  ‘‘But thouwhat dost thou here               In the old man's peaceful hall?
  What doth the eagle in the coop;                The bison in the stall? Our corn
  fills   many   a   garner;       Our   vines   clasp   many   a   tree;   Our   flocks   are
  white on many a hill:            But these are not for thee。
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  XIII
  ‘‘For thee no treasure ripens             In the Tartessian mine; For thee no
  ship brings precious bales              Across the Libyan brine; Thou shalt not
  drink   from   amber;           Thou   shalt   not   rest   on   down; Arabia   shall   not
  steep thy locks;           Nor Sidon tinge thy gown。
  XIV
  ‘‘Leave gold and myrrh and jewels;                 Rich table and soft bed; To
  them who of man's seed are born;                  Whom woman's milk have fed。
  Thou wast not made for lucre;                For pleasure; nor for rest; Thou; that
  art   sprung   from   the   War…god's   loins;        And   hast   tugged   at   the   she…
  wolf's breast。
  XV
  ‘‘From   sunrise   unto   sunset          All   earth   shall   hear   thy   fame:   A
  glorious city thou shalt build;             And name it by thy name: And there;
  unquenched   through   ages;            Like   Vesta's   sacred   fire;   Shall   live   the
  spirit of thy nurse;          The spirit of thy sire。
  XVI
  ‘‘The   ox   toils   through   the   furrow;      Obedient   to   the   goad;   The
  patient ass; up flinty paths;            Plods with his weary load: With whine
  and   bound   the   spaniel         His   master's   whistle   hears;   And   the   sheep
  yields her patiently           To the loud…clashing shears。
  XVII
  ‘‘But thy nurse will hear no master;              Thy nurse will bear no load;
  And woe to them that shear her;                And woe to them that goad! When
  all   the   pack;   loud   baying;      Her   bloody   lair   surrounds;   She   dies   in
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  silence; biting hard;          Amidst the dying hounds。
  XVIII
  Pomona loves the orchard;               And Liber loves the vine; And Pales
  loves the straw…built shed            Warm with the breath of kine; And Venus
  loves   the   whispers         Of   plighted   youth   and   maid;   In   April's   ivory
  moonlight           Beneath the chestnut shade。
  XIX
  ‘‘But thy father loves the clashing            Of broadsword and of shield:
  He loves to drink the steam that reeks              From the fresh battlefield: He
  smiles a smile more dreadful               Than his own dreadful frown; When
  he sees the thick black cloud of smoke                 Go up from the conquered
  town。
  XX
  ‘‘And such as is the War…god;              The author of thy line; And such
  as she who suckled thee;             Even such be thou and thine。 Leave to the
  soft   Campanian           His   baths   and   his   perfumes;   Leave   to   the   sordid
  race   of   Tyre        Their   dyeing…vats   and   looms;   Leave   to   the   sons   of
  Carthage           The   rudder   and   the   oar;   Leave   to   the   Greek   his   marble
  Nymphs            And scrolls of wordy lore。
  XXI
  ‘‘Thine; Roman; is the pilum:              Roman; the sword is thine; The
  even   trench;   the   bristling   mound;        The   legion's   ordered   line;   And
  thine the wheels of triumph;              Which with their laurelled train Move
  slowly up the shouting streets             To Jove's eternal flame。
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  XXII
  Beneath   thy   yoke   the   Volscian         Shall   vail   his   lofty   brow;   Soft
  Capua's     curled   revellers            Before     thy  chairs   shall   bow:    The
  Lucumoes   of   Arnus           Shall   quake   thy   rods   to   see;   And   the   proud
  Samnite's heart of steel           Shall yield to only thee。
  XXIII
  ‘‘The Gaul shall come against thee                From the land of snow and
  night; Thou shalt give his fair…haired armies                To the raven and the
  kite。
  XXIV
  ‘‘The Greek shall come against thee;               The conqueror of the East。
  Beside him stalks to battle            The huge earth…shaking beast; The beast
  on whom the castle              With all its guards doth stand; The beast who
  hath between his eyes             The serpent for a hand。 First march the bold
  Epirotes;          Wedged close with shield and spear And the ranks of false
  Tarentum           Are glittering in the rear。
  XXV
  The ranks of false Tarentum              Like hunted sheep shall fly: In vain
  the bold   Epirotes          Shall   round   their  standards   die: And Apennine's
  gray   vultures         Shall    have   a  noble   feast   On  the   fat  and   the  eyes
  Of the the huge earth…shaking beast。
  XXVI
  ‘‘Hurrah! for the good weapons                 That keep the War…god's land。
  Hurrah! for Rome's stout pilum               In a stout Roman hand。 Hurrah! for
  Rome's short broadsword                That through the thick array Of levelled
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  spears and serried shields            Hews deep its gory way。
  XXVII
  ‘‘Hurrah!   for   the  great   triumph         That   stretches    many   a  mile。
  Hurrah!   for   the   wan   captives        That   pass   in   endless   file。   Ho!   bold
  Epirotes; whither            Hath the Red King taken flight? Ho! dogs of false
  Tarentum;            Is not the gown washed white?
  XXVIII
  ‘‘Hurrah!   for   the  great   triumph         That   stretches    many   a  mile。
  Hurrah!   for   the   rich   dye   of   Tyre;    And   the   fine   web   of   Nile;   The
  helmets   gay   with   plumage            Torn   from   the   pheasant's   wings;   The
  belts set thick with starry gem             That shone on Indian kings; The urns
  of   massy   silver;        The   goblets   rough   with   gold;   The   many…colored
  tablets bright          With loves and wars of old; The stone that breathes
  and struggles;           The brass that seems to speak; Such cunning they
  who dwell on high             Have given unto the Greek。
  XXIX
  ‘‘Hurrah! for Manius Curius;               The bravest son of Rome; Thrice
  in utmost need sent forth;              Thrice drawn in triumph home。 Weave;
  weave;     for  Manius    Curius          The    third  embroidered     gown:    Make
  ready   the   third   lofty   car;     And   twine   the   third   green