英美文学选读英国文学3单元诗歌翻译
A Song : Men of England给英格兰人的歌
By Percy Bysshe Shelley雪莱
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay yelow?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
英格兰的人们，凭什么要给
蹂躏你们的老爷们耕田种地？
凭什么要辛勤劳动纺织不息
用锦绣去打扮暴君们的身体？
Wherefore feed and clothe and save
From the cradle to the grave
Those ungrateful drones who would
Drain your sweat-nay, drink your blood?
凭什么，要从摇篮直到坟墓，
用衣食去供养，用生命去保卫
那一群忘恩负义的寄生虫类，
他们在榨你们的汗，喝你们的血？
Wherefore ,Bees of England, forge
Many a weapan, chain, and scourage,
That these stingless drones may spoil
The forced produce of your toil?
凭什么，英格兰的工蜂，要制作
那么多的武器，锁链和刑具，
使不能自卫的寄生雄蜂竟能掠夺
用你们强制劳动创造的财富？
Have ye leisure, comfort ,calm,
Shelter ,food, love's gentle balm?
Or what is it ye buy so dear
With your pain and with your fear?
你们是有了舒适，安宁和闲暇，
还是有了粮食，家园和爱的慰抚？
否则，付出了这样昂贵的代价，
担惊受怕忍痛吃苦又换来了什么？
The seed ye sow, another reaps;
The wealth ye find, another keeps;
The robes ye weave, another wears;
The arms ye forge, another bears.
你们播下了种子，别人来收割；
你们找到了财富，归别人占有；
你们织布成衣，穿在别人身上；
你们锻造武器，握在别人的手。
Sow sees-but let no tyrant reap
Find wealth-let no impostor heap:
Weave robes-let not the idler wear:
Forge arms-in your defence to bear.
播种吧——但是不让暴君收；
发现财富——不准骗子占有；
制作衣袍——不许懒汉们穿；
锻造武器——为了自卫握在手！
Shrink to your cellars, holes, and cells-
In halls ye deck another dwells.
Why shake the chains ye wrought? when see
The steel ye tempered glance on ye.
你们装修的厅堂让别人住在里面，
自己却钻进地窖、牢房和洞穴去睡。
为什么要挣脱你们自己造的锁链？
瞧！你们炼就的钢铁在向你们逞威。
With plough and spade and hoe and loom
Trace your grave and build your tomb
And weave your winding-sheet-till fair
England be your Sepulchre.
就用锄头和织机，耕犁和铁铲
构筑你们的裹尸布吧，终有一天
美丽的英格兰成为你们的葬身窟。
Ode to the West Wind
1、
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
你是秋的呼吸，啊，奔放的西风；
你无形地莅临时，残叶们逃亡，
它们像回避巫师的成群鬼魂：
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes:O thou
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
黑的、惨红的、铅灰的，还有蜡黄，
患瘟疫而死掉的一大群。啊，你，
送飞翔的种籽到它们的冬床，
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
它们躺在那儿，又暗、又冷、又低，
一个个都像尸体埋葬于墓中，
直到明春你青空的妹妹吹起
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odors plain and hill:
她的号角，唤醒了大地的迷梦，
驱羊群似地驱使蕾儿吐馨，
使漫山遍野铺上了姹紫嫣红；
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh, hear!
你周流上下四方，奔放的精灵，
是破坏者，又是保护者；听呀听！
2 、
Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion,
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,
你在动乱的太空中掀起激流，
那上面飘浮着落叶似的云块，
掉落自天与海的错综的枝头：
Angels of rain and lightning:there are spread
On the blue surface of thine airy surge,
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head
成为雨和电的使者：它们飘落
在你的磅礴之气的蔚蓝的波面，
有如狂女的飘扬的头发在闪烁，
Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height,
The locks of the approaching storm.Thou Dirge
从天穹的最遥远而模糊的边沿
直抵九霄的中天，到处都在摇曳
欲来雷雨的卷发，对濒死的一年
Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
你唱出了葬歌，而这密集的黑夜
将成为它广大墓陵的一座圆顶，
里面正有你的万钧之力的凝结；
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain and fire and hail will burst :O hear!
那是你的浑然之气，从它会迸涌
黑色的雨，冰雹和火焰：哦，你听！
3 、
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams
你也把青青的地中海水唤醒，
他原在贝宜湾的一个浮岛边，
沉醉于他夏日幻梦里的美景，
Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and fowers
Quivering within the eave's intenser day,
被一圈圈晶莹的涟漪所催眠，
他梦见了古老的宫殿和楼阁
荡漾于更明朗皎洁的水中天，
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them!Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers
满披着翡翠似的苔藓和花朵，
花朵多芬芳，那气息使人醉迷；
浩瀚的大西洋本来平静无波，
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know
随着你的脚步而裂开；在海底，
那些枝叶没有浆汁的湿树林，
还有海花，听到你来临的声息，
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves:oh, hear!
便突然地变色，它们大吃一惊，
瑟瑟地发抖，纷纷调谢。啊你听！
4 、
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee:
A wave to pant beneath thy power , and share
如果我是任你吹的落叶一片；
如果我是随着你飞翔的云块；
如果是波浪，在你威力下急喘，
The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be
享受你神力的推动，自由自在，
几乎与你一样，啊，你难制的力！
再不然，如果能回返童年时代，
The comrade of thy wanderigs over Heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed
Scarce seem'd a vision; I would ne'er have striven
常陪伴着你在太空任意飘飞，
以为要比你更神速也非幻想；
那我就不致处此窘迫境地，
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh, lift me as a wave , a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
向你苦苦求告：啊，快使我高扬，
像一片树叶、一朵云、一阵浪涛！
我碰上人生的荆棘，鲜血直淌！
A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowed
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
时光的重负困着我，把我压倒，
我太像你了：难驯、迅速而骄傲。
5 、
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leavers are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
把我当做你的琴，当做那树丛，
纵使我的叶子凋落又何妨？
在你怒吼咆哮的雄浑交响中，
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
将有树林和我的深沉的歌唱，
我们将唱出秋声，婉转而忧愁。
精灵呀，让我变成你，猛烈、刚强！
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
And , by the incantation of this verse,
把我僵死的思想驱散在宇宙，
就像一片片枯叶，以鼓舞新生；
请你听从我这诗篇中的符咒，
Scatter, is from an unextinguished hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawakened earth
把我的话传播给全世界的人，
犹如从不灭的炉中吹出火花！
请向未醒的大地，借我的嘴唇，
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes , can Spring be far behind?[1]
像号角般吹出一声声预言吧！
如果冬天来了，春天还会远吗？
The Chimney Sweeper 二
By William Blake (1757-1827) 经验之歌
A little black thing among the snow:
Crying weep, weep, in notes of woe!
Where are thy father & mother? say?
They are both gone up to the church to pray.
一个满身污垢的小小身影站在大雪里，
“扫烟囱！扫烟囱！”他的叫声悲戚！
“告诉我，你的父母在哪里？”
“他们都去了教堂祷告上帝。”
Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smil'd among the winter's snow:
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
“因为我喜欢在荒野上嬉戏，
在冬天的大雪中也满脸笑意，
他们就给我穿上丧衣，
还教我用悲声唱丧曲。”
And because I am happy & dance & sing,
They think they have done me no injury:
And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery.
“因为我快乐地又唱又跳，
他们就觉得对我的所为无害无虞，
于是就去赞美牧师、国王和上帝—
这些人用我们的痛苦成就了一个极乐之地。”
The Chimney Sweeper 一
By William Blake 天真之歌
When my mother died I was very young，
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry `'weep！ 'weep！ 'weep！ 'weep！'
So your chimneys I sweep， and in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre， who cried when his head，
That curl'd like a lamb's back， was shav'd： so I said
`Hush， Tom！ never mind it， for when your head's bare
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair.'
And so he was quiet， and that very night，
As Tom was a-sleeping， he had such a sight！——
That thousands of sweepers， Dick， Joe， Ned， and Jack，
Were all of them lock'd up in coffins of black.
And by came an Angel who had a bright key，
And he open'd the coffins and set them all free；
Then down a green plain leaping， laughing， they run，
And wash in a river， and shine in the sun.
Then naked and white， all their bags left behind，
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind；
And the Angel told Tom， if he'd be a good boy，
He'd have God for his father， and never want joy.
And so Tom awoke； and we rose in the dark，
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Tho' the morning was cold， Tom was happy and warm；
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.
我母亲死的时候，我还小得很，
我父亲把我拿出来卖给了别人，
我当时还不大喊得清，“扫呀――扫!”
我就扫你们烟囱，裹煤屑睡觉。
有个小托姆，头发卷得像小羊头，
剃光的时候，哭得好伤心，好难受，
我就说：“小托姆，不要紧，光了脑袋，
打起来煤屑就不会糟踏你白头发。”
他就安安静静了，当天夜里，
托姆睡着了，事情就来得稀奇，
他看见千千万万的扫烟囱小孩
阿猫阿狗全都给锁进了黑棺材。
后来来了个天使，拿了把金钥匙，
开棺材放出了孩子们(真是好天使!)
他们就边跳，边笑，边跑过草坪，
到河里洗了澡，太阳里晒得亮晶晶。
光光的，白白的，把袋子都抛个一，
他们就升上了云端，在风里游戏;
“只要你做个好孩子，”天使对托姆说，
“上帝会做你的父亲，你永远快乐。”
托姆就醒了;屋子里黑咕隆咚，
我们就起来拿袋子、扫帚去做工。
大清早尽管冷，托姆的心里可温暖;
这叫做：各尽本分，就不怕灾难。
The Tiger
Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright 老虎！老虎！光焰闪耀， In the forests of the night, 在黑夜的丛林中熊熊燃烧， ' What immortal hand or eye 什么样的不朽之手和眼
Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 造成你那可怕的匀称外貌？
In what distant deeps or skies 你眼中的烈火熊熊
Burnt the fire of thine eyes? 来自多远的深处或高空？ On what wings dare he aspire? 他凭什么翅膀敢飞到九天？ What the hand dare seize the fire? 什么样的手敢去抓这火焰？
And what shoulder, and what art, 什么样的臂力，什么样的技艺 Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 才能拧成你那心脏的腱肌？ And when thy heart began to beat, 什么样的手,什么样的脚,
What dread hand? And what dread feet? 才使得你的心脏开始弹跳？
What the hammer? What the chain? 用什么样的锤子？什么样的链条？ In what furnace was thy brain? 在什么样的炉里炼成了你的大脑？ What the anvil? What dread grasp 在什么样的铁砧上？用什么样的臂力 Dare its deadly terrors clasp? 敢抓住这可以致命的可怕东西？
When the stars threw down their spears, 当星星投下他们的矛枪， And watered heaven with their tears, 用他们的泪水浇灌穹苍， Did he smile his work to see? 他见到自己的作品时可微笑？
Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 难道是他造了你也造了羊羔？
Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright 老虎！老虎！光焰闪耀，
In the forests of the night, 在黑夜的丛林中熊熊燃烧，
What immortal hand or eye, 什么样的不朽之手和眼
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 造成你那可怕的匀称外貌？
Kubla Khan 忽必列汗
萨缪尔·柯勒律治
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
忽必列汗在上都曾经
下令造一座堂皇的安乐殿堂：
这地方有圣河亚佛流奔，
穿过深不可测的洞门，
直流入不见阳光的海洋。
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
有方圆五英里肥沃的土壤，
四周给围上楼塔和城墙：
那里有花园，蜿蜒的溪河在其间闪耀， 园里树枝上鲜花盛开，一片芬芳；
这里有森林，跟山峦同样古老，
围住了洒满阳光的一块块青草草场。
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
但是，啊！那深沉而奇异的巨壑
沿青山斜裂，横过伞盖的柏树！
野蛮的地方，既神圣而又着了魔－－
好象有女人在衰落的月色里出没，
为她的魔鬼情郎而凄声嚎哭！
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river.
巨壑下，不绝的喧嚣在沸腾汹涌，
似乎这土地正喘息在快速而猛烈的悸动中， 从这巨壑里，不断迸出股猛烈的地泉； 在它那断时续的涌迸之间，
巨大的石块飞跃着象反跳的冰雹，
或者象打稻人连枷下一撮撮新稻；
从这些舞蹈的岩石中，时时刻刻
迸发出那条神圣的溪河。
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!
迷乱地移动着，蜿蜒了五英里地方， 那神圣的溪河流过了峡谷和森林，
于是到达了深不可测的洞门，
在喧嚣中沉入了没有生命的海洋；
从那喧嚣中忽必列远远听到
祖先的喊声预言着战争的凶兆！
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! 安乐的宫殿有倒影
宛在水波的中央漂动；
这儿能听见和谐的音韵
来自那地泉和那岩洞。
这是个奇迹呀，算得是稀有的技巧， 阳光灿烂的安乐宫，连同那雪窟冰窖！
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud and long.
有一回我在幻象中见到
一个手拿德西马琴的姑娘：
那是个阿比西尼亚少女，
在她的琴上她奏出乐曲，
歌唱着阿伯若山。
如果我心中能再度产生
她的音乐和歌唱，
我将被引入如此深切的欢欣，
以至于我要用音乐高朗而又长久。
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
在空中建造那安乐宫廷，
那阳光照临的宫廷，那雪窟冰窖！
谁都能见到这宫殿，只要听见了乐音。 他们全都会喊叫：当心！当心！
他飘动的头发，他闪光的眼睛！
织一个圆圈，把他三道围住，
闭下你两眼，带着神圣的恐惧，
因为他一直吃着蜜样甘露，
一直饮着天堂的琼浆仙乳。
Song for the Luddites
Lord Byron1816
As the Liberty lads o'er the sea
Brought their freedom, and cheaply with blood, So we, boys, we
Will die fighting, or live free,
And down with all kings by King Ludd !
When the web that we weave is complete, And the shuttle exchanged for the sword, We will fling the winding sheet
O'er the despot at our feet,
And dye it deep in the gore he has pour'd. Though black as his heart its hue,
Since his veins are corrupted to mud,
Yet this is the dew
Which the tree shall renew
Of Liberty, planted by Ludd !
The Isles of Greece
By Lord Byron
( from: Don Juan, Canto the Third - LXXXVI ) 1
The Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of War and Peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their Sun, is set.
希腊群岛呵，美丽的希腊群岛！
火热的萨弗在这里唱过恋歌；
在这里，战争与和平的艺术并兴，
狄洛斯崛起，阿波罗跃出海面！
永恒的夏天还把海岛镀成金，
可是除了太阳，一切已经消沉。
2
The Scian and Teian muse,
The Hero's harp, the Lover's lute,
Have found the fame your shores refuse: Their place of birth alone is mute
To sounds which echo further west
Than your Sires' "Islands of the Blest." 开奥的缪斯，蒂奥的缪斯，
那英雄的竖琴，恋人的琵琶，
原在你的岸上博得了声誉，
而今在这发源地反倒喑哑；
呵，那歌声已远远向西流传，
远超过你祖先的“海岛乐园
3
The mountains look on Marathon ---
And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.
起伏的山峦望着马拉松－
马拉松望着茫茫的海波；
我独自在那里冥想一刻钟，
梦想希腊仍旧自由而欢乐；
因为，当我在波斯墓上站立，
我不能想象自己是个奴隶。
4
A King sate on the rocky brow
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,
And men in nations; --- all were his !
He counted them at break of day ---
And, when the Sun set, where were they? 一个国王高高坐在石山顶，
了望着萨拉密挺立于海外；
千万只船舶在山下靠停，
还有多少队伍全由他统率！
他在天亮时把他们数了数，
但日落的时候他们都在何处？
5
And where are they? And where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore
The heroic lay is tuneless now ---
The heroic bosom beats no more !
And must thy Lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?
呵，他们而今安在？还有你呢，
我的祖国？在无声的土地上，
英雄的颂歌如今已沉寂－
那英雄的心也不再激荡！
难道你一向庄严的竖琴，
竟至沦落到我的手里弹弄？
6
'T is something, in the dearth of Fame,
Though linked among a fettered race,
To feel at least a patriot's shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
For what is left the poet here?
For Greeks a blush --- for Greece a tear. 也好，置身在奴隶民族里，
尽管荣誉都已在沦丧中，
至少，一个爱国志士的忧思，
还使我的作歌时感到脸红；
因为，诗人在这儿有什么能为？
为希腊人含羞，对希腊国落泪。
7
Must we but weep o'er days more blest? Must we but blush? --- Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead !
Of the three hundred grant but three,
To make a new Thermopylæ !
我们难道只好对时光悲哭
和惭愧？－我们的祖先却流血。
大地呵！把斯巴达人的遗骨
从你的怀抱里送回来一些！
哪怕给我们三百勇士的三个，
让德魔比利的决死战复活！
8
What, silent still? and silent all?
Ah ! no; --- the voices of the dead
Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
And answer, "Let one living head,
But one arise, --- we come, we come ! "
'T is but the living who are dumb.
怎么，还是无声？一切都喑哑？
不是的！你听那古代的英魂
正象远方的瀑布一样喧哗，
他们回答：“只要有一个活人
登高一呼，我们就来，就来！”
噫！倒只是活人不理不睬。
9
In vain -- in vain: strike other chords;
Fill high the cup with Samian wine !
Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,
And shed the blood of Scio's vine !
Hark ! rising to the ignoble call ---
How answers each bold Bacchanal !
算了，算了；试试别的调门：
斟满一杯萨摩斯的美酒！
把战争留给土耳其野人，
让开奥的葡萄的血汁倾流！
听呵，每一个酒鬼多么踊跃
响应这一个不荣誉的号召！
10
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The noblier and manlier one?
You have the letters Cadmus gave ---
Think ye he meant them for a slave?
你们还保有庇瑞克的舞艺，
但庇瑞克的方阵哪里去了？
这是两课，为什么只记其一，
而把高尚而坚强的一课忘掉？
凯德谟斯给你们造了字体－
难道他是为了传授给奴隶？
11
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
We will not think of themes like these !
It made Anacreon's song divine:
He served --- but served Polycrates ---
A Tyrant; but our masters then
Were still, at least, our countrymen.
把萨摩斯的美酒斟满一盅！
让我们且抛开这样的话题！
这美酒曾使阿纳克瑞翁
发为神圣的歌；是的，他屈于
波里克瑞底斯，一个暴君，
但这暴君至少是我们国人。
12
The Tyrant of the Chersonese
Was Freedom's best and bravest friend; That tyrant was Miltiades !
Oh ! that the present hour would lend
Another despot of the kind !
Such chains as his were sure to bind.
克索尼萨斯的一个暴君
是自由的最忠勇的朋友：
暴君米太亚得留名至今！
呵，但愿现在我们能够有
一个暴君和他一样精明，
他会团结我们不受人欺凌！
13
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore,
Exists the remnant of a line
Such as the Doric mothers bore;
And there, perhaps, such seed is sown,
The Heracleidan blood might own.
把萨摩斯的美酒斟满一盅！
在苏里的山岩，巴加的岸上，
住着一族人的勇敢的子孙，
不愧是斯巴达的母亲所养；
在那里，也许种子已经散播，
是赫剌克勒斯血统的真传。
14
Trust not for freedom to the Franks ---
They have a king who buys and sells;
In native swords, and native ranks,
The only hope of courage dwells;
But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
Would break your shield, however broad. 自由的事业别依靠西方人，
他们有一个做买卖的国王；
本土的利剑，本土的士兵，
是冲锋陷阵的唯一希望；
但土耳其武力，拉丁的欺骗，
会里应外合把你们的盾打穿。
15
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !
Our virgins dance beneath the shade --- I see their glorious black eyes shine;
But gazing on each glowing maid,
My own the burning tear-drop laves,
To think such breasts must suckle slaves. 把萨摩斯的美酒斟满一盅！
树荫下正舞蹈着我们的姑娘－
我看见她们的黑眼亮晶晶，
但是，望着每个鲜艳的姑娘，
我的眼就为火热的泪所迷，
这乳房难道也要哺育奴隶？
16
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die;
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine ---
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine !
让我攀登苏尼阿的悬崖，
可以听见彼此飘送着悄悄话，
让我象天鹅一样歌尽而亡；
我不要奴隶的国度属于我－
干脆把那萨摩斯酒杯打破
Ode on a Grecian Urn 希腊古瓮颂
Stanza 1
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? 你委身“寂静”的、完美的处子，
受过了“沉默”和“悠久”的抚育，
呵，田园的史家，你竟能铺叙
一个如花的故事，比诗还瑰丽：
在你的形体上，岂非缭绕着
古老的传说，以绿叶为其边缘；
讲着人，或神，敦陂或阿卡狄？
呵，是怎样的人，或神！在舞乐前
多热烈的追求！少女怎样地逃躲！
怎样的风笛和鼓谣！怎样的狂喜！
Stanza 2
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 听见的乐声虽好，但若听不见
却更美；所以，吹吧，柔情的风笛； 不是奏给耳朵听，而是更甜，
它给灵魂奏出无声的乐曲；
树下的美少年呵，你无法中断
你的歌，那树木也落不了叶子；
卤莽的恋人，你永远、永远吻不上， 虽然够接近了－－但不必心酸；
她不会老，虽然你不能如愿以偿，
你将永远爱下去，她也永远秀丽！
Stanza 3
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied, [un WEER e ED] For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. 呵，幸福的树木！你的枝叶
不会剥落，从不曾离开春天；
幸福的吹笛人也不会停歇，
他的歌曲永远是那么新鲜；
呵，更为幸福的、幸福的爱！
永远热烈，正等待情人宴飨，
永远热情地心跳，永远年轻；
幸福的是这一切超凡的情态：
它不会使心灵餍足和悲伤，
没有炽热的头脑，焦渴的嘴唇。
Stanza 4
Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return. 这些人是谁呵，都去赶祭祀？
这作牺牲的小牛，对天鸣叫，
你要牵它到哪儿，神秘的祭司？
花环缀满着它光滑的身腰。
是从哪个傍河傍海的小镇，
或哪个静静的堡寨山村，
来了这些人，在这敬神的清早？
呵，小镇，你的街道永远恬静；
再也不可能回来一个灵魂
告诉人你何以是这么寂寥。
Stanza 5
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st, “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,”—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. 哦，希腊的形状！唯美的观照！
上面缀有石雕的男人和女人，
还有林木，和践踏过的青草；
沉默的形体呵，你象是“永恒”
使人超越思想：呵，冰冷的牧歌！
等暮年使这一世代都凋落，
只有你如旧；在另外的一些
忧伤中，你会抚慰后人说：
“美即是真，真即是美，”这就包括
你们所知道、和该知道的一切。