song and legend from the middle ages-第23部分

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e；　Then　knew　I　how　the　blessed　ones　above　Gaze　on　each　other　in　their　perfect　bliss；　For　never　yet　was　look　of　mortal　love　So　pure；　so　tender；　so　serene　as　this。　The　softest　glance　fond　woman　ever　sent　To　him　she　loved；　would　cold　and　rayless　be　Compared　to　this；　which　she　divinely　bent　Earthward；　with　angel　sympathy；　on　me；　That　seem'd　with　speechless　tenderness　to　say；　〃Who　takes　from　me　my　faithful　friend　away？〃

…E。（New　Monthly　Magazine。）


SESTINA　VII。　HE　DESPAIRS　OF　ESCAPING　FROM　HIS　TORMENTS。

Count　the　ocean's　finny　droves；　Count　the　twinkling　host　of　stars；　Round　the　night's　pale　orb　that　moves；　Count　the　groves'　wing'd　choristers；　Count　each　verdant　blade　that　grows；　Counted　then　will　be　my　woes。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　Sad　my　nights；　from　morn　till　eve；　Tenanting　the　woods；　I　sigh：　But；　ere　I　shall　cease　to　grieve；　Ocean's　vast　bed　shall　be　dry；　Suns　their　light　from　moons　shall　gain；　And　spring　wither　on　each　plain。

Pensive；　weeping；　night　and　day；　From　this　shore　to　that　I　fly；　Changeful　as　the　lunar　ray；　And；　when　evening　veils　the　sky；　Then　my　tears　might　swell　the　floods；　Then　my　sighs　might　bow　the　woods！

Towns　I　hate；　the　shades　I　love；　For　relief　to　yon　green　height；　Where　the　rill　resounds；　I　rove　At　the　grateful　calm　of　night；　There　I　wait　the　day's　decline；　For　the　welcome　moon　to　shine。

Song；　that　on　the　wood…hung　stream　In　the　silent　hour　wert　born；　Witness'd　but　by　Cynthia's　beam；　Soon　as　breaks　to…morrow's　morn；　Thou　shalt　seek　a　glorious　plain；　There　with　Laura　to　remain！

Nott。


II。　To　Laura　in　Death。

SONNET　1。　　ON　THE　ANNOUNCEMENT　OF　THE　DEATH　OF　LAURA。

Woe　for　the　'witching　look　of　that　fair　face！　The　port　where　ease　with　dignity　combined！　Woe　for　those　accents'　that　each　savage　mind　To　softness　tuned；　to　noblest　thoughts　the　base！　And　the　sweet　smile；　from　whence　the　dart　I　trace；　Which　now　leaves　death　my　only　hope　behind！　Exalted　soul；　most　fit　on　thrones　to　've　shined；　But　that　too　late　she　came　this　earth　to　grace！　For　you　I　still　must　burn；　and　breathe　in　you；　For　I　was　ever　yours；　of　you　bereft；　Full　little　now　I　reck　all　other　care。　With　hope　and　with　desire　you　thrill'd　me　through；　When　last　my　only　joy　on　earth　I　left　But　caught　by　winds　each　word　was　lost　in　air。

Anon；　Ox。；　1795。


SONNET　XLII。　　THE　SPRING　ONLY　RENEWS　HIS　GRIEF。

The　soft　west　wind；　returning；　brings　again　Its　lovely　family　of　herbs　and　flowers；　Progne's　gay　notes　and　Philomela's　strain　Vary　the　dance　of　springtide's　rosy　hours；　And　joyously　o'er　every　field　and　plain　Glows　the　bright　smile　that　greets　them　from　above；　And　the　warm　spirit　of　reviving　love　Breathes　in　the　air　and　murmurs　from　the　main。　But　tears　and　sorrowing　sighs；　which　gushingly　Pour　from　the　secret　chambers　of　my　heart；　Are　all　that　spring　returning　brings　to　me；　And　in　the　modest　smile；　or　glance　of　art；　The　song　of　birds；　the　bloom　of　heath　and　tree；　A　desert's　rugged　tract　and　savage　forms　I　see。

Greene。


SONNET　LII。　HE　REVISITS　VAUCLUSE。

I　feel　the　well…known　breeze；　and　the　sweet　hill　Again　appears；　where　rose　that　beauteous　light；　Which；　while　Heaven　willed　it；　met　my　eyes；　then　bright　With　gladness；　but　now　dimmed　with　many　an　ill。　Vain　hopes！　weak　thoughts！　Now；　turbid　is　the　rill；　The　flowers　have　drooped；　and　she　hath　ta'en　her　flight　From　the　cold　nest；　which　once；　in　proud　delight；　Living　and　dying；　I　had　hoped　to　fill：　I　hoped；　in　these　retreats；　and　in　the　blaze　Of　her　fair　eyes；　which　have　consumed　my　heart；　To　taste　the　sweet　reward　of　troubled　days。　Thou；　whom　I　serve；　how　hard　and　proud　thou　art！　Erewhile；　thy　flame　consumed　me；　now；　I　mourn　Over　the　ashes　which　have　ceased　to　burn。

Roscoe。


CANZONE　III。　UNDER　VARIOUS　ALLEGORIES　HE　PAINTS　THE　VIRTUE；　BEAUTY；　AND　UNTIMELY　DEATH　OF　LAURA。

While　at　my　window　late　I　stood　alone；　So　new　and　many　things　there　cross'd　my　sight；　To　view　them　I　had　almost　weary　grown。　A　dappled　mind　appear'd　upon　the　right；　In　aspect　gentle；　yet　of　stately　stride；　By　two　swift　greyhounds　chased；　a　black　and　white；　Who　tore　in　the　poor　side　Of　that　fair　creature　wounds　so　deep　and　wide；　That　soon　they　forced　her　where　ravine　and　rock　The　onward　passage　block：　Then　triumph'd　Death　her　matchless　beauties　o'er；　And　left　me　lonely　there　her　sad　fate　to　deplore。　　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　In　a　fair　grove　a　bright　young　laurel　made　Surely　to　Paradise　the　plant　belongs！　Of　sacred　boughs　a　pleasant　summer　shade；　From　whose　green　depths　there　issued　so　sweet　songs　Of　various　birds；　and　many　a　rare　delight　Of　eye　and　ear；　what　marvel　from　the　world　They　stole　my　senses　quite！　While　still　I　gazed；　the　heavens　grew　black　around；　The　fatal　lightning　flash'd；　and　sudden　hurl'd；　Uprooted　to　the　ground；　That　blessied　birth。　Alas！　for　it　laid　low；　And　its　dear　shade　whose　like　we　ne'er　again　shall　know。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　。　A　lovely　and　rare　bird　within　the　wood；　Whose　crest　with　gold；　whose　wings　with　purple　gleam'd；　Alone；　but　proudly　soaring；　next　I　view'd；　Of　heavenly　and　immortal　birth　which　seem'd；　Flitting　now　here；　now　there；　until　it　stood　Where　buried　fount　and　broken　laurel　lay；　And　sadly　seeing　there　The　fallen　trunk；　the　boughs　all　stripp'd　and　bare；　The　channel　driedfor　all　things　to　decay　So　tend…it　turn'd　away　As　if　in　angry　scorn；　and　instant　fled；　While　through　me　for　her　loss　new　love　and　pity　spread。

At　length　along　the　flowery　award　I　saw　So　sweet　and　fair　a　lady　pensive　move　That　her　mere　thought　inspires　a　tender　awe；　Meek　in　herself；　but　haughty　against　Love；　Flow'd　from　her　waist　a　robe　so　fair　and　fine　Seem'd　gold　and　snow　together　there　to　join：　But；　ah！　each　charm　above　Was　veil'd　from　sight　in　an　unfriendly　cloud：　Stung　by　a　lurking　shake；　as　flowers　that　pine　Her　head　she　gently　bow'd；　And　joyful　pass'd　on　high；　perchance　secure：　Alas　I　that　in　the　world　grief　only　should　endure。


SONNET　LXXXV。　HE　CONFESSES　AND　REGRETS　HIS　SINS；　AND　PRAYS　GOD　TO　SAVE　HIM　FROM　ETERNAL　DEATH。

Love　held　me　one　and　twenty　years　enchain'd；　His　flame　was　joyfor　hope　was　in　my　grief！　For　ten　more　years　I　wept　without　relief；　When　Laura　with　my　heart；　to　heaven　attain'd。　Now　weary　grown；　my　life　I　had　arraign'd　That　in　its　error；　check'd　（to　my　belief）　Blest　virtue's　seeds…now；　in　my　yellow　leaf；　I　grieve　the　mispent　years；　existence　stain'd。　Alas！　it　might　have　sought　a　brighter　goal；　In　flying　troublous　thoughts；　and　winning　peace；　O　Father！　I　repentant　seek　thy　throne：　Thou；　in　this　temple　hast　enshrined　my　soul；　Oh；　bless　me　yet；　and　grant　its　safe　release！　Unjustifledmy　sin　I　humbly　own。

Wollaston。


SONNET　XC。　　THE　PLAINTIVE　SONG　OF　A　BIRD　RECALLS　HIS　KEENER　SORROW。

Poor；　solitary　bird；　that　pour'st　thy　lay；　Or　haply　mournest　the　sweet　season　gone；　As　chilly　night　and　winter　hurry　on；　And　daylight　fades；　and　summer　flies　away！　If；　as　the　cares　that　swell　thy　little　throat；　Thou　knew'st　alike　the　woes　that　wound　my　rest。　O；　thou　wouldst　house　thee　In　this　kindred　breast；　And　mix　with　mine　thy　melancholy　note！　Yet　little　know　I　ours　are　kindred　ills：　She　still　may　live　the　object　of　thy　song：　Not　so　for　me　stern　Death　or　Heaven　wills！　But　the　sad　reason；　and　less　grateful　hour；　And　of　past　joy　and　sorrow　thoughts　that　throng；　Prompt　my　full　heart　this　idle　lay　to　pour。


FROM　THE　DECAMERON。

The　third　great　name　in　Italian　mediaeval　literature　is　that　of　Giovanni　Boccaccio。　He　was　born　in　Paris　in　l3l3；　and　died　at　Certaldo　in　1345。　Like　Dante　and　Petrarch　he　was　a　scholar　and　an　industrious　writer。　He　wrote　some　important　historical　treatises；　and　many　poems；　some　of　which　attained　some　fame。　But　it　is　as　a　writer　of　prose　that　he　deserves　the　name　he　has。　In　Italy；　as　in　all　other　lands；　there　was　in　the　Middle　Ages　a　large　body　of　tales　and　fables　in　circulation。　In　Italy；　during　the　thirteenth　and　fourteenth　centuries；　these　tales　came　into　literature　as　Novellas　or　novels。　The　Decamerone　of　Boccaccio　is　a　collection　of　a　hundred　such　novels　or　tales。　They　are　derived　from　many　sources；　probably　not　more　than　three　or　four　of　them　being　invented　by　Boccaccio。　The　tale　we　select　is　interesting　as　furnishing　the　basis　for　one　of　Keats'　beautiful　romantic　ballads。　


THE　POT　OF　BASIL。

There　lived；　then　at　Messina；　three　young　merchants；　who　were　brothers；　and　left　very　rich　by　their　father；　they　had　an　only　sister；　a　lady　of　worth　and　beauty；　who　was　unmarried。　Now；　they　kept　a　youth；　by　way　of　factor；　to　manage　their　affairs；　called　Lorenzo；　one　of　a　very　agreeable　person；　who；　being　often　in　Isabella's　company；　and　finding　himself　no　way　disagreeable　to　her；　confined　all　his　wishes　to　her　only；　which　in　some　little　time　had　their　full　effect。　This　affair　was　carried　on　between　them　for　a　considerable　time；　without　the　least　suspicion；　till　one　night　it　happened；　as　she　was　going　to　his　chamber；　that　the　eldest　brother　saw　her；　without　her　knowing　it。　This　afflicted　him　greatly；　yet；　being　a　prudent　man；　he　made　no　discovery；　but　lay　considering　with　himself　till　morning；　what　course　was　best　for　them　to　take。　He　then　related　to　his　brothers　what　he　had　seen；　with　regard　to　their　sister　and　Lorenzo；　and；　after　a　long　debate；　it　was　resolved　to　seem　to　take　no　notice　of　it　for　the　present；　but　to　make　away　with　him　privately；　the　first　opportunity；　that　they　might　remove　all　cause　of　reproach　both　to　their　sister　and　themselves。　Continuing　in　this　resolution；　they　behaved　with　the　same　freedom　and　civility　to　Lorenzo　as　ever；　till　at　length；　under　a　pretense　of　going　out　of　the　city；　upon　a　party　of　pleasure；　they　carried　him　along　with　them；　and　arriving　at　a　lonesome　place；　fit　for　their　purpose；　they　slew　him；　unprepared　to　make　any　defence；　and　buried　him　there；　then；　returning　to　Messina；　they　gave　it　out　that　they　had　sent　him　on　a　journey　of　business；　which　was　easily　believed；　　because　they　frequently　did　so。　In　some　time；　she；　thinking　that　he　made　a　long　stay；　began　to　inquire　earnestly　of　her　brothers　concerning　him；　and　this　she　did　so　often；　that　at　last　one　of　them　said　to　her；　〃What　have　you　to　do　with　Lorenzo；　that　you　are　continually　teasing　us　about　him？　If　you　inquire　any　more；you　shall　receive　such　an　answer　as　you　will　by　no　means　approve　of。〃　This　grieved　her　exceedingly；　and；　fearing　she　knew　not　why；　she　remained　without　asking　any　more