第 5 节
作者:翱翔1981      更新:2024-04-07 21:07      字数:9321
  stream Are stirring like sweet maidens when they dream。
  A caste…mark on the azure brows of Heaven; The golden moon burns
  sacred;   solemn;   bright   The   winds   are   dancing   in   the   forest…temple; And
  swooning at the holy feet of Night。 Hush! in the silence mystic voices sing
  And make the gods their incense…offering。
  IN THE FOREST
  Here; O my heart; let us burn the dear dreams that are dead; Here in
  this wood let us fashion a funeral pyre Of fallen white petals and leaves
  that are mellow and red; Here let us burn them in noon's flaming torches
  of fire。
  We   are   weary;   my   heart;   we   are   weary;   so   long   we   have   borne   The
  heavy loved burden of dreams that are dead; let us rest; Let us scatter their
  ashes   away;   for   a   while   let   us   mourn; We   will   rest;   O   my  heart;   till   the
  shadows are gray in the west。
  But soon we must rise; O my heart; we must wander again Into the war
  of the world and the strife of the throng; Let us rise; O my heart; let us
  gather the dreams that remain; We will conquer the sorrow of life with the
  sorrow of song。
  PAST AND FUTURE
  THE NEW HATH COME AND NOW THE OLD RETIRES: And so
  the past becomes a mountain…cell; Where lone; apart; old hermit…memories
  dwell In consecrated calm; forgotten yet Of the keen heart that hastens to
  forget Old longings in fulfilling new desires。
  And now the Soul stands in a vague; intense Expectancy and anguish
  of suspense; On the dim chamber…threshold 。 。 。 lo! he sees Like a strange;
  fated    bride  as  yet  unknown;      His  timid   future   shrinking   there   alone;
  Beneath her marriage…veil of mysteries。
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  LIFE
  Children; ye have not lived; to you it seems Life is a lovely stalactite
  of   dreams;   Or   carnival   of   careless   joys   that   leap About   your   hearts   like
  billows on the deep In flames of amber and of amethyst。
  Children; ye have not lived; ye but exist Till some resistless hour shall
  rise and move Your hearts to wake and hunger after love; And thirst with
  passionate   longing   for   the   things   That   burn   your   brows   with   blood…red
  sufferings。
  Till ye have battled with great grief and fears; And borne the conflict
  of   dream…shattering   years;   Wounded   with   fierce   desire   and   worn        with
  strife; Children; ye have not lived: for this is life。
  THE POET'S LOVE…SONG
  In   noon…tide   hours;   O   Love;   secure   and   strong;I   need   thee   not;   mad
  dreams   are   mine   to   bindThe   world   to   my   desire;   and   hold   the   wind   A
  voiceless captive to my conquering song。I need thee not; I am content with
  these:Keep silence in thy soul; beyond the seas!
  But in the desolate hour of midnight; whenAn ecstasy of starry silence
  sleepsOn      the  still  mountains     and   the  soundless    deeps;    And   my    soul
  hungers for thy voice; O then;Love; like the magic of wild melodies;Let
  thy soul answer mine across the seas。
  TO THE GOD OF PAIN
  Unwilling priestess in thy cruel fane; Long hast thou held me; pitiless
  god of Pain; Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows; My tired breast girt
  with   suffering;   and   my   brows Anointed   with   perpetual   weariness。   Long
  have   I   borne   thy   service;   through   the   stress   Of   rigorous   years;   sad   days
  and slumberless nights; Performing thine inexorable rites。
  For thy dark altars; balm nor milk nor rice; But mine own soul thou'st
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  ta'en   for   sacrifice: All   the   rich   honey   of   my   youth's   desire; And   all   the
  sweet oils from my crushed life drawn; And all my flower…like dreams and
  gem…like      fire Of hopes up…leaping like the light of dawn。
  I have no more to give; all that was mine Is laid; a wrested tribute; at
  thy   shrine;   Let   me   depart;   for  my   whole    soul   is  wrung;    And   all  my
  cheerless orisons are sung; Let me depart; with faint limbs let me creep To
  some dim shade and sink me down to sleep。
  THE   SONG   OF   PRINCESS   ZEB…UN…NISSA  IN   PRAISE   OF   HER
  OWN BEAUTY
  (From the Persian)
  When   from   my   cheek   I   lift   my   veil;   The   roses   turn   with   envy   pale;
  And from their pierced hearts; rich with pain; Send forth their fragrance
  like a wail。
  Or if perchance one perfumed tress Be lowered to the wind's caress;
  The honeyed hyacinths complain; And languish in a sweet distress。
  And;   when   I   pause;   still   groves   among;   (Such   loveliness   is   mine)   a
  throng     Of   nightingales   awake   and   strain   Their   souls   into   a   quivering
  song。
  INDIAN DANCERS
  Eyes    ravished    with    rapture;   celestially   panting;     what    passionate
  bosoms      aflaming     withfire    Drink    deep   of   the  hush    of   the  hyacinth
  heavens   that   glimmer   around   them   in       fountains   of   light;   O   wild   and
  entrancing the strain of keen music            that cleaveth the stars like a wail of
  desire;    And     beautiful    dancers     with   houri…like    faces     bewitch      the
  voluptuous watches of         night。
  The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter             and die in the maze of
  their   gem…tangled       hair;   And    smiles   are   entwining     like  magical    ser…
  pents the poppies of lips that are opiate…          sweet; Their glittering garments
  of purple are burn…       ing like tremulous dawns in the quiver…            ing air; And
  exquisite;   subtle   and   slow   are   the   tinkle and   tread   of   their   rhythmical;
  slumber…      soft feet。
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  Now silent; now singing and swaying and swing…              ing; like blossoms
  that bend to the     breezes or showers; Now wantonly winding; they flash;
  now they      falter; and; lingering; languish in radiant      choir; Their jewel…
  girt   arms   and   warm;    wavering;    lily…  long    fingers   enchant   through
  melodious      hours;    Eyes   ravished   with  rapture;   celestially  pant…   ing;
  what passionate bosoms aflaming          with fire!
  MY DEAD DREAM
  Have you found me; at last; O my Dream?            Seven aeons ago You died
  and I buried you deep under forests        of snow。 Why have you come hither?
  Who bade you       awake from your sleep And track me beyond the cerulean
  foam of the     deep?
  Would you tear from my lintels these sacred          green garlands of leaves?
  Would you scare the white; nested; wild          pigeons of joy from my eaves?
  Would   you   touch   and   defile   with   dead   fingers the   robes   of   my   priest?
  Would   you   weave   your   dim   moan   with   the    chantings   of   love   at   my
  feast?
  Go back to your grave; O my Dream; under             forests of snow; Where a
  heart…riven   child   hid   you   once;   seven aeons   ago。   Who   bade   you   arise
  from   your   darkness?   I  bid   you   depart!   Profane   not   the   shrines   I   have
  raised in the    clefts of my heart。
  DAMAYANTE TO NALA IN THE HOUR OF
  EXILE
  (A fragment)
  Shalt thou be conquered of a human fate My liege; my lover; whose
  imperial    head   Hath    never   bent  in  sorrow    of  defeat?   Shalt   thou  be
  vanquished;     whose    imperial   feet  Have    shattered   armies   and   stamped
  empires dead? Who shall unking thee; husband of a queen? Wear thou thy
  majesty    inviolate。   Earth's  glories  flee  of  human    eyes   unseen;   Earth's
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  kingdoms   fade   to   a   remembered   dream;   But   thine   henceforth   shall   be   a
  power   supreme;   Dazzling   command   and   rich   dominion;   The   winds   thy
  heralds and thy vassals all The silver…belted planets and the sun。 Where'er
  the radiance of thy coming fall; Shall dawn for thee her saffron footcloths
  spread; Sunset her purple canopies and red; In serried splendour; and the
  night   unfold   Her   velvet   darkness   wrought   with   starry   gold   For   kingly
  raiment; soft as cygnet…down。 My hair shall braid thy temples like a