“圣艾格尼丝前夕”是约翰·济慈(1795-1821)的叙事诗,使用斯潘塞恩节(Edmund Spenser为他十六世纪的宏伟史诗开发的九行诗)讲述, 仙境女王。在中世纪城堡的一个寒冷的夜晚,一个年轻的恋人闯入他的情人的房间,藏在她的壁橱里,然后说服她半昏迷的自我与他逃跑。


ÂThe owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
ÂThe hare limp’d在冰冻的草地上颤抖,
ÂAnd silent was the flock in woolly fold:

ÂNumb were the Beadsman’的手指,而他告诉
ÂHis rosary, and while his frosted breath,
ÂLike pious incense from a censer old,
ÂHis prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;
ÂThen takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees,
ÂAnd back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,
ÂAlong the chapel aisle by slow degrees:
ÂThe sculptur’d死了,似乎在每一侧都死了,
ÂKnights, ladies, praying in dumb orat’ries,
ÂHe passeth by; and his weak spirit fails
ÂNorthward he turneth through a little door,
ÂAnd scarce three steps, ere Music’s golden tongue
ÂBut no—already had his deathbell rung;
ÂThe joys of all his life were said and sung:
ÂHis was harsh penance on St. Agnes’ Eve:
ÂAnother way he went, and soon among
ÂRough ashes sat he for his soul’s reprieve,
和all night kept awake, for sinners’ sake to grieve.
ÂThat ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft;
ÂAnd so it chanc’d,因为许多门很宽,
ÂFrom hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,
ÂThe silver, snarling trumpets ‘gan to chide:
ÂThe level chambers, ready with their pride,
ÂWere glowing to receive a thousand guests:
ÂThe carved angels, ever eager-eyed,
ÂAt length burst in the argent revelry,
ÂWith plume, tiara, and all rich array,
ÂNumerous as shadows haunting faerily
ÂThe brain, new stuff’d,青年时期,与同性恋同居
ÂOf old romance. These let us wish away,
ÂAnd turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there,
ÂWhose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,
ÂOn love, and wing’d St. Agnes’ saintly care,
ÂThey told her how, upon St. Agnes’ Eve,
ÂYoung virgins might have visions of delight,
ÂAnd soft adorings from their loves receive
ÂUpon the honey’d半夜,
ÂIf ceremonies due they did aright;
ÂAs, supperless to bed they must retire,
ÂAnd couch supine their beauties, lily white;
ÂNor look behind, nor sideways, but require
ÂFull of this whim was thoughtful Madeline:
ÂThe music, yearning like a God in pain,
ÂShe scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine,
ÂPass by—she heeded not at all: in vain
ÂCame many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier,
ÂAnd back retir’d; not cool’d by high disdain,
ÂBut she saw not: her heart was otherwhere:
她叹了口气’d for Agnes’梦想,一年中最甜蜜的一天。
ÂShe danc’d含糊不清,无论眼睛如何,
ÂAnxious her lips, her breathing quick and short:
ÂThe hallow’d小时近在咫尺:她叹了口气
ÂAmid the timbrels, and the throng’d resort
ÂOf whisperers in anger, or in sport;
ÂSave to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn,
和all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn.
ÂSo, purposing each moment to retire,
ÂShe linger’d仍然。同时,在荒野中,
ÂHad come young Porphyro, with heart on fire
ÂFor Madeline. Beside the portal doors,
ÂAll saints to give him sight of Madeline,
ÂBut for one moment in the tedious hours,
ÂThat he might gaze and worship all unseen;
ÂHe ventures in: let no buzz’d whisper tell:
ÂAll eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords
ÂWill storm his heart, Love’s fev’rous citadel:
ÂFor him, those chambers held barbarian hordes,
ÂHyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords,
ÂWhose very dogs would execrations howl
ÂAgainst his lineage: not one breast affords
ÂHim any mercy, in that mansion foul,
ÂAh, happy chance! the aged creature came,
ÂShuffling along with ivory-headed wand,
ÂTo where he stood, hid from the torch’s flame,
ÂBehind a broad half-pillar, far beyond
ÂThe sound of merriment and chorus bland:
ÂHe startled her; but soon she knew his face,
ÂAnd grasp’用手指放在她麻痹的手中,
ÂSaying, “怜悯,波菲罗!从这个地方找你
ÂHe had a fever late, and in the fit
ÂHe cursed thee and thine, both house and land:
ÂThen there’是那个老莫里斯勋爵,不是白衣
ÂMore tame for his gray hairs—Alas me! flit!
ÂFlit like a ghost away.”—”Ah, Gossip dear,
ÂHe follow’d通过低矮的拱形方式,
ÂBrushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume,
ÂAnd as she mutter’d “Well-a—well-a-day!”
ÂHe found him in a little moonlight room,
ÂPale, lattic’d,阴凉而寂静如坟。
“现在告诉我玛德琳在哪里,” said he,
ÂWhich none but secret sisterhood may see,
“圣艾格尼丝!啊!是圣艾格尼丝’ Eve—
ÂYet men will murder upon holy days:
ÂThou must hold water in a witch’s sieve,
ÂAnd be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays,
ÂTo venture so: it fills me with amaze
ÂTo see thee, Porphyro!—St. Agnes’ Eve!
ÂThis very night: good angels her deceive!
ÂFeebly she laugheth in the languid moon,
ÂWhile Porphyro upon her face doth look,
ÂLike puzzled urchin on an aged crone
ÂWho keepeth clos’d a wond’rous riddle-book,
ÂAs spectacled she sits in chimney nook.
ÂBut soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told
ÂHis lady’目的他稀缺的溪流
ÂTears, at the thought of those enchantments cold,
和Madeline asleep in lap of legends old.
ÂSudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
ÂFlushing his brow, and in his pained heart
ÂMade purple riot: then doth he propose
ÂA stratagem, that makes the beldame start:
ÂSweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream
ÂAlone with her good angels, far apart
ÂFrom wicked men like thee. Go, go!—I deem
您不一定能与您看上去的一样。 ”
ÂQuoth Porphyro: “O may I ne’er find grace
ÂWhen my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer,
ÂIf one of her soft ringlets I displace,
ÂOr look with ruffian passion in her face:
ÂGood Angela, believe me by these tears;
ÂOr I will, even in a moment’s space,
ÂAwake, with horrid shout, my foemen’s ears,
ÂA poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing,
ÂWhose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll;
ÂWhose prayers for thee, each morn and evening,
ÂWere never miss’d.”–如此平淡无奇,她带来了吗
ÂA gentler speech from burning Porphyro;
ÂSo woful, and of such deep sorrowing,
ÂThat Angela gives promise she will do
ÂWhich was, to lead him, in close secrecy,
ÂEven to Madeline’的房间,那里藏着
ÂHim in a closet, of such privacy
ÂThat he might see her beauty unespy’d,
ÂAnd win perhaps that night a peerless bride,
ÂWhile legion’d faeries pac’d the coverlet,
ÂAnd pale enchantment held her sleepy-ey’d.
ÂNever on such a night have lovers met,
“随你所愿,” said the Dame:
ÂQuickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame
ÂHer own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare,
ÂFor I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare
ÂOn such a catering trust my dizzy head.
ÂWait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer
ÂThe while: Ah! thou must needs the lady wed,
ÂSo saying, she hobbled off with busy fear.
ÂThe lover’s无尽的分钟慢慢过去’d;
ÂThe dame return’d, and whisper’d in his ear
ÂTo follow her; with aged eyes aghast
ÂFrom fright of dim espial. Safe at last,
ÂThrough many a dusky gallery, they gain
ÂThe maiden’s室丝绸般的安静’d, and chaste;
ÂWhere Porphyro took covert, pleas’d amain.
ÂHer falt’把手放在栏杆上,
ÂOld Angela was feeling for the stair,
ÂWhen Madeline, St. Agnes’ charmed maid,
ÂRose, like a mission’d spirit, unaware:
ÂWith silver taper’轻而认真的照顾
ÂShe turn’d,并带走了年迈的八卦
ÂTo a safe level matting. Now prepare,
ÂYoung Porphyro, for gazing on that bed;
她来了,她又来了,就像环斑鸠’d and fled.
ÂOut went the taper as she hurried in;
ÂIts little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
ÂShe clos’d门,她气喘吁吁地
ÂTo spirits of the air, and visions wide:
ÂNo uttered syllable, or, woe betide!
ÂBut to her heart, her heart was voluble,
ÂPaining with eloquence her balmy side;
ÂAs though a tongueless nightingale should swell
ÂA casement high and triple-arch’d there was,
ÂAll garlanded with carven imag’ries
ÂOf fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
ÂAnd diamonded with panes of quaint device,
ÂInnumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
ÂAs are the tiger-moth’s deep-damask’d wings;
ÂAnd in the midst, ‘万种先驱
ÂAnd twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,
ÂFull on this casement shone the wintry moon,
ÂAnd threw warm gules on Madeline’s fair breast,
ÂAs down she knelt for heaven’s grace and boon;
ÂRose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
ÂAnd on her silver cross soft amethyst,
ÂAnd on her hair a glory, like a saint:
ÂShe seem’d一个灿烂的天使,新来的醉汉,
ÂSave wings, for heaven:—Porphyro grew faint:
ÂAnon his heart revives: her vespers done,
ÂOf all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
ÂUnclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
ÂLoosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees
ÂHer rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
ÂHalf-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
ÂPensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
ÂIn fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,
ÂSoon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
ÂIn sort of wakeful swoon, perplex’d she lay,
ÂUntil the poppied warmth of sleep oppress’d
ÂHer soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
ÂFlown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;
ÂBlissfully haven’d从喜悦和痛苦中解脱出来;
ÂBlinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
ÂPorphyro gaz’d穿着她的空衣服,
ÂAnd listen’如果有机会,请呼吸一下
ÂTo wake into a slumberous tenderness;
ÂWhich when he heard, that minute did he bless,
ÂAnd breath’d他本人:然后从壁橱里爬了起来,
ÂNoiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,
ÂAnd over the hush’d地毯,无语,stept,
ÂThen by the bed-side, where the faded moon
ÂMade a dim, silver twilight, soft he set
ÂA table, and, half anguish’d, threw thereon
ÂA cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:—
ÂO for some drowsy Morphean amulet!
ÂThe boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
ÂThe kettle-drum, and far-heard clarinet,
ÂAffray his ears, though but in dying tone:—
ÂAnd still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
ÂIn blanched linen, smooth, and lavender’d,
ÂWhile he forth from the closet brought a heap
ÂOf candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
ÂWith jellies soother than the creamy curd,
ÂAnd lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;
ÂManna and dates, in argosy transferr’d
ÂFrom Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
从丝绸般的萨马尔坎到雪松’d Lebanon.
ÂThese delicates he heap’d with glowing hand
ÂOn golden dishes and in baskets bright
ÂOf wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand
ÂIn the retired quiet of the night,
ÂFilling the chilly room with perfume light.—
ÂThou art my heaven, and I thine eremite:
ÂOpen thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes’ sake,
ÂThus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm
ÂSank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream
ÂBy the dusk curtains:—’是午夜的魅力
ÂImpossible to melt as iced stream:
ÂThe lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
ÂBroad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
ÂIt seem’d他永远也永远无法赎回
ÂFrom such a stedfast spell his lady’s eyes;
好吧’d awhile, entoil’d幻想的幻想。
ÂAwakening up, he took her hollow lute,—
ÂTumultuous,—and, in chords that tenderest be,
ÂHe play’d。一个古老的小人物,早已静音,
ÂIn Provence call’d, “美女美女”:
ÂClose to her ear touching the melody;—
ÂWherewith disturb’d, she utter’d a soft moan:
ÂHe ceas’d'她急着喘气,突然
ÂHer blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
ÂHer eyes were open, but she still beheld,
ÂNow wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
ÂThere was a painful change, that nigh expell’d
ÂThe blisses of her dream so pure and deep
ÂAt which fair Madeline began to weep,
ÂAnd moan forth witless words with many a sigh;
ÂWhile still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
ÂWho knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
害怕移动或说话,她看起来’d so dreamingly.
“Ah, Porphyro!” said she, “but even now
ÂThy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
ÂMade tuneable with every sweetest vow;
ÂAnd those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
ÂHow chang’你是艺术!多么苍白,寒冷和垂涎!
ÂGive me that voice again, my Porphyro,
ÂThose looks immortal, those complainings dear!
ÂOh leave me not in this eternal woe,
ÂBeyond a mortal man impassion’d far
ÂAt these voluptuous accents, he arose
ÂEthereal, flush’d,像一颗star动的星星
ÂSeen mid the sapphire heaven’s deep repose;
ÂInto her dream he melted, as the rose
ÂBlendeth its odour with the violet,—
ÂSolution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
ÂLike Love’s alarum敲打着雨夹雪
靠在窗玻璃上;圣艾格尼丝’ moon hath set.
ÂPorphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.—
ÂCruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?
ÂI curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,
ÂThough thou forsakest a deceived thing;—
ÂSay, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?
ÂThy beauty’s shield, heart-shap’d and vermeil dyed?
ÂAh, silver shrine, here will I take my rest
ÂAfter so many hours of toil and quest,
ÂA famish’d pilgrim,—sav’d by miracle.
ÂThough I have found, I will not rob thy nest
ÂSaving of thy sweet self; if thou think’st well
“Hark! ’是一场来自精灵土地的小风暴,
ÂOf haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
ÂArise—arise! the morning is at hand;—
ÂThe bloated wassaillers will never heed:—
ÂLet us away, my love, with happy speed;
ÂThere are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,—
ÂAwake! arise! my love, and fearless be,
ÂShe hurried at his words, beset with fears,
ÂFor there were sleeping dragons all around,
ÂAt glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears—
ÂDown the wide stairs a darkling way they found.—
ÂIn all the house was heard no human sound.
ÂA chain-droop’d灯在每扇门旁闪烁;
ÂThe arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,
ÂFlutter’d在围困的风中’s uproar;
和the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.
ÂThey glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall;
ÂLike phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide;
ÂWhere lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,
ÂWith a huge empty flaggon by his side:
ÂThe wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,
ÂBut his sagacious eye an inmate owns:
ÂBy one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:—
ÂThe chains lie silent on the footworn stones;—
ÂAnd they are gone: ay, ages long ago
ÂThese lovers fled away into the storm.
ÂThat night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
ÂAnd all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
ÂOf witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,
ÂWere long be-nightmar’d. Angela the old
ÂDied palsy-twitch’d,脸部微弱变形;
ÂThe Beadsman, after thousand aves told,

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