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forty-two poems-第2部分
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Which no one ever knew;
I know a rose beyond the Thames;
Where flowers are pale and few。
THE FIRST SONNET OF BATHROLAIRE
Over the moonless land of Bathrolaire
Rises at night; when revelry begins;
A white unreal orb; a sun that spins;
A sun that watches with a sullen stare
That dance spasmodic they are dancing there;
Whilst drone and cry and drone of violins
Hint at the sweetness of forgotten sins;
Or call the devotees of shame to prayer。
And all the spaces of the midnight town
Ring with appeal and sorrowful abuse。
There some most lonely are: some try to crown
Mad lovers with sad boughs of formal yews;
And Titan women wandering up and down
Lead on the pale fanatics of the muse。
THE SECOND SONNET OF BATHROLAIRE
Now the sweet Dawn on brighter fields afar
Has walked among the daisies; and has breathed
The glory of the mountain winds; and sheathed
The stubborn sword of Night's last…shining star。
In Bathrolaire when Day's old doors unbar
The motley mask; fantastically wreathed;
Pass through a strong portcullis brazen teethed;
And enter glowing mines of cinnabar。
Stupendous prisons shut them out from day;
Gratings and caves and rayless catacombs;
And the unrelenting rack and tourniquet
Grind death in cells where jetting gaslight gloams;
And iron ladders stretching far away
Dive to the depths of those eternal domes。
THE MASQUE OF THE MAGI
Three Kings have come to Bethlehem
With a trailing star in front of them。
MARY
What would you in this little place;
You three bright kings?
KINGS
Mother; we tracked the trailing star
Which brought us here from lands afar;
And we would look on his dear face
Round whom the Seraphs fold their wings。
MARY
But who are you; bright kings?
CASPAR
Caspar am I: the rocky North
From storm and silence drave me forth
Down to the blue and tideless sea。
I do not fear the tinkling sword;
For I am a great battle…lord;
And love the horns of chivalry。
And I have brought thee splendid gold;
The strong man's joy; refined and cold。
All hail; thou Prince of Galilee!
BALTHAZAR
I am Balthazar; Lord of Ind;
Where blows a soft and scented wind
From Taprobane towards Cathay。
My children; who are tall and wise;
Stand by a tree with shutten eyes
And seem to meditate or pray。
And these red drops of frankincense
Betoken man's intelligence。
Hail; Lord of Wisdom; Prince of Day!
MELCHIOR
I am the dark man; Melchior;
And I shall live but little more
Since I am old and feebly move。
My kingdom is a burnt…up land
Half buried by the drifting sand;
So hot Apollo shines above。
What could I bring but simple myrrh
White blossom of the cordial fire?
Hail; Prince of Souls; and Lord of Love!
CHORUS OF ANGELS
O Prince of souls and Lord of Love;
O'er thee the purple…breasted dove
Shall watch with open silver wings;
Thou King of Kings。
Suaviole o flos Virginum;
Apparuit Rex Gentium。
。 。 。
〃Who art thou; little King of Kings?〃
His wondering mother sings。
THE BALLAD OF HAMPSTEAD HEATH
From Heaven's Gate to Hampstead Heath
Young Bacchus and his crew
Came tumbling down; and o'er the town
Their bursting trumpets blew。
The silver night was wildly bright;
And madly shone the Moon
To hear a song so clear and strong;
With such a lovely tune。
From London's houses; huts and flats;
Came busmen; snobs; and Earls;
And ugly men in bowler hats
With charming little girls。
Sir Moses came with eyes of flame;
Judd; who is like a bloater;
The brave Lord Mayor in coach and pair;
King Edward; in his motor。
Far in a rosy mist withdrawn
The God and all his crew;
Silenus pulled by nymphs; a faun;
A satyr drenched in dew;
Smiled as they wept those shining tears
Only Immortals know;
Whose feet are set among the stars;
Above the shifting snow。
And one spake out into the night;
Before they left for ever;
〃Rejoice; rejoice!〃 and his great voice
Rolled like a splendid river。
He spake in Greek; which Britons speak
Seldom; and circumspectly;
But Mr。 Judd; that man of mud;
Translated it correctly。
And when they heard that happy word;
Policemen leapt and ambled:
The busmen pranced; the maidens danced;
The men in bowlers gambolled。
A wistful Echo stayed behind
To join the mortal dances;
But Mr Judd; with words unkind;
Rejected her advances。
And passing down through London Town
She stopped; for all was lonely;
Attracted by a big brass plate
Inscribed; FOR MEMBERS ONLY。
And so she went to Parliament;
But those ungainly men
Woke up from sleep; and turned about;
And fell asleep again。
LITANY TO SATAN (from Baudelaire。)
O grandest of the Angels; and most wise;
O fallen God; fate…driven from the skies;
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
O first of exiles who endurest wrong;
Yet growest; in thy hatred; still more strong;
Satan; at last take pity on our pain!
O subterranean King; omniscient;
Healer of man's immortal discontent;
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
To lepers and to outcasts thou dost show
That Passion is the Paradise below。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thou by thy mistress Death hast given to man
Hope; the imperishable courtesan。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thou givest to the Guilty their calm mien
Which damns the crowd around the guillotine。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thou knowest the corners of the jealous Earth
Where God has hidden jewels of great worth。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thou dost discover by mysterious signs
Where sleep the buried people of the mines。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thou stretchest forth a saving hand to keep
Such men as roam upon the roofs in sleep。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thy power can make the halting Drunkard's feet
Avoid the peril of the surging street。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thou; to console our helplessness; didst plot
The cunning use of powder and of shot。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Thy awful name is written as with pitch
On the unrelenting foreheads of the rich。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
In strange and hidden places thou dost move
Where women cry for torture in their love。
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
Father of those whom God's tempestuous ire
Has flung from Paradise with sword and fire;
Satan; at last take pity on our pain。
PRAYER
Satan; to thee be praise upon the Height
Where thou wast king of old; and in the night
Of Hell; where thou dost dream on silently。
Grant that one day beneath the Knowledge…tree;
When it shoots forth to grace thy royal brow;
My soul may sit; that cries upon thee now。
THE TRANSLATOR AND THE CHILDREN
While I translated Baudelaire;
Children were playing out in the air。
Turning to watch; I saw the light
That made their clothes and faces bright。
I heard the tune they meant to sing
As they kept dancing in a ring;
But I could not forget my book;
And thought of men whose faces shook
When babies passed them with a look。
They are as terrible as death;
Those children in the road beneath。
Their witless chatter is more dread
Than voices in a madman's head:
Their dance more awful and inspired;
Because their feet are never tired;
Than silent revel with soft sound
Of pipes; on consecrated ground;
When all the ghosts go round and round。
OPPORTUNITY (from Machiavelli。)
〃But who art thou; with curious beauty graced;
O woman; stamped with some bright heavenly seal
Why go thy feet on wings; and in such haste?〃
〃I am that maid whose secret few may steal;
Called Opportunity。 I hasten by
Because my feet are treading on a wheel;
Being more swift to run than birds to fly。
And rightly on my feet my wings I wear;
To blind the sight of those who track and spy;
Rightly in front I hold my scattered hair
To veil my face; and down my breast to fall;
Lest men should know my name when I am there;
And leave behind my back no wisp at all
For eager folk to clutch; what time I glide
So near; and turn; and pass beyond recall。〃
〃Tell me; who is that Figure at thy side?〃
〃Penitence。 Mark this well that by decree
Who lets me go must keep her for his bride。
And thou hast spent much time in talk with me
Busied with thoughts and fancies vainly grand;
Nor hast remarked; O fool; neither dost see
How lightly I have fled beneath thy hand。〃
DESTROYER OF SHIPS; MEN; CITIES
Helen of Troy has sprung from Hell
To claim her ancient throne;
So we have bidden friends farewell
To follow her alone。
The Lady of the laurelled brow;
The Queen of pride and power;
Looks rather like a phantom now;
And rather like a flower。
Deep in her eyes the lamp of night
Burns with a secret flame;
Where shadows pass that have no sight;
And ghosts that have no name。
For mute is battle's brazen horn
That rang for Priest and King;
And she who drank of that brave morn
Is pale with evening。
An hour there is when bright words flow;
A little hour for sleep;
An hour between; when lights are low;
And then she seems to weep;
But no less lovely than of old
She shines; and almost hears
The horns that blew in days of gold;
The shouting charioteers。
And still she breaks the hearts of men;
Their hearts and all their pride;
Doomed to be cruel once again;
And live dissatisfied。
WAR SONG OF THE SARACENS
We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or
late:
We storm at your ivory gate: Pale Kings of the Sunset; beware!
Not on silk nor in samet we lie; not in curtained solemnity die
Among women who chatter and cry; and children who mumble a prayer。
But we sleep by the ropes of the camp; and we rise with a shout; and we
tramp
With the sun or the moon for a lamp; and the spray of the wind in our
hair。
From the lands; where the elephants are; to the forts of Merou and
Balghar;
Our steel we have brought and our star to shine on the ruins of Rum。
We have marched from the Indus to Spain; and by God we will go there
again;
We have stood on the shore of the plain
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