第 59 节
作者:
乐乐陶陶 更新:2021-02-20 05:16 字数:9322
That had else been all too bright。
And her hat; with shady brim;
Made her tressy forehead dim;
Thus she stood amid the stooks;
Praising God with sweetest looks:
Sure; I said; Heaven did not mean;
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean;
Lay thy sheaf adown and come;
Share my harvest and my home。
Thomas Hood '1799…1845'
THE SOLITARY REAPER
Behold her; single in the field;
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here; or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain;
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound。
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of Travellers in some shady haunt;
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring…time from the Cuckoo…bird;
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides。
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old; unhappy; far…off things;
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay;
Familiar matter of to…day?
Some natural sorrow; loss; or pain;
That has been; and may be again!
Whate'er the theme; the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work;
And o'er the sickle bending; …
I listened; motionless and still;
And; as I mounted up the hill;
The music in my heart I bore;
Long after it was heard no more。
William Wordsworth '1770…1850'
THE THREE COTTAGE GIRLS
I
How blest the Maid whose heart … yet free
From Love's uneasy sovereignty …
Beats with a fancy running high;
Her simple cares to magnify;
Whom Labor; never urged to toil;
Hath cherished on a healthful soil;
Who knows not pomp; who heeds not pelf;
Whose heaviest sin it is to look
Askance upon her pretty Self
Reflected in some crystal brook;
Whom grief hath spared … who sheds no tear
But in sweet pity; and can hear
Another's praise from envy clear。
II
Such (but O lavish Nature! why
That dark unfathomable eye;
Where lurks a Spirit that replies
To stillest mood of softest skies;
Yet hints at peace to be o'erthrown;
Another's first; and then her own?)
Such haply; yon Italian Maid;
Our Lady's laggard Votaress;
Halting beneath the chestnut shade
To accomplish there her loveliness:
Nice aid maternal fingers lend;
A Sister serves with slacker hand;
Then; glittering like a star; she joins the festal band。
III
How blest (if truth may entertain
Coy fancy with a bolder strain)
The Helvetian Girl … who daily braves;
In her light skiff; the tossing waves;
And quits the bosom of the deep
Only to climb the rugged steep!
… Say whence that modulated shout!
From Wood…nymph of Diana's throng?
Or does the greeting to a rout
Of giddy Bacchanals belong?
Jubilant outcry! rock and glade
Resounded … but the voice obeyed
The breath of an Helvetian Maid。
IV
Her beauty dazzles the thick wood;
Her courage animates the flood;
Her steps the elastic greensward meets
Returning unreluctant sweets;
The mountains (as ye heard) rejoice
Aloud; saluted by her voice!
Blithe Paragon of Alpine grace;
Be as thou art … for through thy veins
The blood of Heroes runs its race!
And nobly wilt thou brook the chains
That; for the virtuous; Life prepares;
The fetter which the Matron wears;
The patriot Mother's weight of anxious cares!
〃Sweet Highland Girl! a very shower
Of beauty was thy earthly dower;〃
When thou didst flit before mine eyes;
Gay Vision under sullen skies;
While Hope and Love around thee played;
Near the rough falls of Inversneyd!
Have they; who nursed the blossom; seen
No breach of promise in the fruit?
Was joy; in following joy; as keen
As grief can be in grief's pursuit?
When youth had flown did hope still bless
Thy goings … or the cheerfulness
Of innocence survive to mitigate distress?
VI
But from our course why turn … to tread
A way with shadows overspread;
Where what we gladliest would believe
Is feared as what may most deceive?
Bright Spirit; not with amaranth crowned
But heath…bells from thy native ground;
Time cannot thin thy flowing hair;
Nor take one ray of light from Thee;
For in my Fancy thou dost share
The gift of immortality;
And there shall bloom; with Thee allied;
The Votaress by Lugano's side;
And that intrepid Nymph; on Uri's steep descried!
William Wordsworth '1770…1850'
BLACKMWORE MAIDENS
The primrwose in the sheade do blow;
The cowslip in the zun;
The thyme upon the down do grow;
The cote where streams do run;
An' where do pretty maidens grow
An' blow; but where the tower
Do rise among the bricken tuns;
In Blackmwore by the Stour。
If you could zee their comely gait;
An' pretty feaces' smiles;
A…trippen on so light o' waight;
An' steppen off the stiles;
A…gwain to church; as bells do swing
An' ring within the tower;
You'd own the pretty maidens' pleace
Is Blackmwore by the Stour。
If you vrom Wimborne took your road;
To Stower or Paladore;
An' all the farmers' housen showed
Their daughters at the door;
You'd cry to bachelors at hwome …
〃Here; come: 'ithin an hour
You'll vind ten maidens to your mind;
In Blackmwore by the Stour。〃
An' if you looked 'ithin their door;
To zee em in their pleace;
A…doen housework up avore
Their smilen mother's feace;
You'd cry … 〃Why if a man would wive
An' thrive; 'ithout a dower;
Then let en look en out a wife
In Blackmwore by the Stour。〃
As I upon my road did pass
A school…house back in May;
There out upon the beaten grass
Wer maidens at their play;
An' as the pretty souls did tweil
An' smile; I cried; 〃The flower
O' beauty; then; is still in bud
In Blackmwore by the Stour。〃
William Barnes '1801…1886'
A PORTRAIT
〃One name is Elizabeth〃 Ben Jonson
I will paint her as I see her。
Ten times have the lilies blown
Since she looked upon the sun。
And her face is lily…clear;
Lily…shaped; and dropped in duty
To the law of its own beauty。
Oval cheeks encolored faintly;
Which a trail of golden hair
Keeps from fading off to air:
And a forehead fair and saintly;
Which two blue eyes undershine;
Like meek prayers before a shrine。
Face and figure of a child; …
Though too calm; you think; and tender;
For the childhood you would lend her。
Yet child…simple; undefiled;
Frank; obedient; waiting still
On the turnings of your will。
Moving light; as all young things;
As young birds; or early wheat
When the wind blows over it。
Only; free from flutterings
Of loud mirth that scorneth measure …
Taking love for her chief pleasure。
Choosing pleasures; for the rest;
Which come softly … just as she;
When she nestles at your knee。
Quiet talk she liketh best;
In a bower of gentle looks; …
Watering flowers; or reading books。
And her voice; it murmurs lowly;
As a silver stream may run;
Which yet feels (you feel) the sun。
And her smile it seems half holy;
As if drawn from thoughts more far
Than our common jestings are。
And if any poet knew her;
He would sing of her with falls
Used in lovely madrigals。
And if any painter drew her;
He would paint her unaware
With a halo round her hair。
And if reader read the poem;
He would whisper … 〃You have done a
Consecrated little Una!〃
And a dreamer (did you show him
That same picture) would exclaim;
〃'Tis my angel; with a name!〃
And a stranger; … when he sees her
In the street even … smileth stilly;
Just as you would at a lily。
And all voices that address her;
Soften; sleeken every word;
As if speaking to a bird。
And all fancies yearn to cover
The hard earth; whereon she passes;
With the thymy…scented grasses。
And all hearts do pray; 〃God love her!〃
Ay and always; in good sooth;
We may all be sure HE DOTH。
Elizabeth Barrett Browning '1806…1861'
TO A CHILD OF FANCY
The nests are in the hedgerows;
The lambs are on the grass;
With laughter sweet as music
The hours lightfooted pass;
My darling child of fancy;
My winsome prattling lass。
Blue eyes; with long brown lashes;
Thickets of golden curl;
Red little lips disclosing
Twin rows of fairy pearl;
Cheeks like the apple blossom;
Voice lightsome as the merle。
A whole Spring's fickle changes;
In every short…lived day;
A passing cloud of April;
A flowery smile of May;
A thousand quick mutations
From graver moods to gay。
Far off; I see the season
When thy childhood's course is run;
And thy girlhood opens wider
Beneath the growing sun;
And the rose begins to redden;
But the violets are done。
And further still the summer;
When thy fair tree; fully grown;
Shall bourgeon; and grow splendid
With blos