第 200 节
作者:空白协议书      更新:2021-02-21 16:31      字数:9322
  When poor; laborious; emulous to excel;
  You strove in rivalry with Badassare
  And Raphael Sanzio。
  FRA SEBASTIANO。
  Raphael is dead;
  He is but dust and ashes in his grave;
  While I am living and enjoying life;
  And so am victor。  One live Pope is worth
  A dozen dead ones。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Raphael is not dead;
  He doth but sleep; for how can he be dead
  Who lives immortal in the hearts of men?
  He only drank the precious wine of youth;
  The outbreak of the grapes; before the vintage
  Was trodden to bitterness by the feet of men。
  The gods have given him sleep。  We never were
  Nor could be foes; although our followers;
  Who are distorted shadows of ourselves;
  Have striven to make us so; but each one worked
  Unconsciously upon the other's thought;
  Both giving and receiving。  He perchance
  Caught strength from me; and I some greater sweetness
  And tenderness from his more gentle nature。
  I have but words of praise and admiration
  For his great genius; and the world is fairer
  That he lived in it。
  FRA SEBASTIANO。
  We at least are friends;
  So come with me。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  No; no; I am best pleased
  When I'm not asked to banquets。  I have reached
  A time of life when daily walks are shortened;
  And even the houses of our dearest friends;
  That used to be so near; seem far away。
  FRA SEBASTIANO。
  Then we must sup without you。  We shall laugh
  At those who toil for fame; and make their lives
  A tedious martyrdom; that they may live
  A little longer in the mouths of men!
  And so; good…night。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Good…night; my Fra Bastiano。
  'Returning to his work。
  How will men speak of me when I am gone;
  When all this colorless; sad life is ended;
  And I am dust?  They will remember only
  The wrinkled forehead; the marred countenance;
  The rudeness of my speech; and my rough manners;
  And never dream that underneath them all
  There was a woman's heart of tenderness。
  They will not know the secret of my life;
  Locked up in silence; or but vaguely hinted
  In uncouth rhymes; that may perchance survive
  Some little space in memories of men!
  Each one performs his life…work; and then leaves it;
  Those that come after him will estimate
  His influence on the age in which he lived。
  V
  PALAZZO BELVEDERE
  TITIAN'S studio。 A painting of Danae with a curtain before it。
  TITIAN;
  MICHAEL ANGELO; and GIORGIO VASARI。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  So you have left at last your still lagoons;
  Your City of Silence floating in the sea;
  And come to us in Rome。
  TITIAN。
  I come to learn;
  But I have come too late。  I should have seen
  Rome in my youth; when all my mind was open
  To new impressions。  Our Vasari here
  Leads me about; a blind man; groping darkly
  Among the marvels of the past。  I touch them;
  But do not see them。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  There are things in Rome
  That one might walk bare…footed here from Venice
  But to see once; and then to die content。
  TITIAN。
  I must confess that these majestic ruins
  Oppress me with their gloom。  I feel as one
  Who in the twilight stumbles among tombs;
  And cannot read the inscriptions carved upon them。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  I felt so once; but I have grown familiar
  With desolation; and it has become
  No more a pain to me; but a delight。
  TITIAN。
  I could not live here。  I must have the sea;
  And the sea…mist; with sunshine interwoven
  Like cloth of gold; must have beneath my windows
  The laughter of the waves; and at my door
  Their pattering footsteps; or I am not happy。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Then tell me of your city in the sea;
  Paved with red basalt of the Paduan hills。
  Tell me of art in Venice。  Three great names;
  Giorgione; Titian; and the Tintoretto;
  Illustrate your Venetian school; and send
  A challenge to the world。  The first is dead;
  But Tintoretto lives。
  TITIAN。
  And paints with fires
  Sudden and splendid; as the lightning paints
  The cloudy vault of heaven。
  GIORGIO。
  Does he still keep
  Above his door the arrogant inscription
  That once was painted there;〃The color of Titian;
  With the design of Michael Angelo〃?
  TITIAN。
  Indeed; I know not。  'T was a foolish boast;
  And does no harm to any but himself。
  Perhaps he has grown wiser。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  When you two
  Are gone; who is there that remains behind
  To seize the pencil falling from your fingers?
  GIORGIO。
  Oh there are many hands upraised already
  To clutch at such a prize; which hardly wait
  For death to loose your grasp;a hundred of them;
  Schiavone; Bonifazio; Campagnola;
  Moretto; and Moroni; who can count them;
  Or measure their ambition?
  TITIAN。
  When we are gone
  The generation that comes after us
  Will have far other thoughts than ours。  Our ruins
  Will serve to build their palaces or tombs。
  They will possess the world that we think ours;
  And fashion it far otherwise。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  I hear
  Your son Orazio and your nephew Marco
  Mentioned with honor。
  TITIAN。
  Ay; brave lads; brave lads。
  But time will show。  There is a youth in Venice;
  One Paul Cagliari; called the Veronese;
  Still a mere stripling; but of such rare promise
  That we must guard our laurels; or may lose them。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  These are good tidings; for I sometimes fear
  That; when we die; with us all art will die。
  'T is but a fancy。  Nature will provide
  Others to take our places。  I rejoice
  To see the young spring forward in the race;
  Eager as we were; and as full of hope
  And the sublime audacity of youth。
  TITIAN。
  Men die and are forgotten。  The great world
  Goes on the same。  Among the myriads
  Of men that live; or have lived; or shall live
  What is a single life; or thine or mime;
  That we should think all nature would stand still
  If we were gone?  We must make room for others。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  And now; Maestro; pray unveil your picture
  Of Danae; of which I hear such praise。
  TITIAN; drawing hack the curtain。
  What think you?
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  That Acrisius did well
  To lock such beauty in a brazen tower
  And hide it from all eyes。
  TITIAN。
  The model truly
  Was beautiful。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  And more; that you were present;
  And saw the showery Jove from high Olympus
  Descend in all his splendor。
  TITIAN。
  From your lips
  Such words are full of sweetness。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  You have caught
  These golden hues from your Venetian sunsets。
  TITIAN。
  Possibly。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Or from sunshine through a shower
  On the lagoons; or the broad Adriatic。
  Nature reveals herself in all our arts。
  The pavements and the palaces of cities
  Hint at the nature of the neighboring hills。
  Red lavas from the Euganean quarries
  Of Padua pave your streets; your palaces
  Are the white stones of Istria; and gleam
  Reflected in your waters and your pictures。
  And thus the works of every artist show
  Something of his surroundings and his habits。
  The uttermost that can be reached by color
  Is here accomplished。  Warmth and light and softness
  Mingle together。  Never yet was flesh
  Painted by hand of artist; dead or living;
  With such divine perfection。
  TITIAN。
  I am grateful
  For so much praise from you; who are a master;
  While mostly those who praise and those who blame
  Know nothing of the matter; so that mainly
  Their censure sounds like praise; their praise like censure。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Wonderful! wonderful!  The charm of color
  Fascinates me the more that in myself
  The gift is wanting。  I am not a painter。
  GIORGIO。
  Messer Michele; all the arts are yours;
  Not one alone; and therefore I may venture
  To put a question to you。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Well; speak on。
  GIORGIO。
  Two nephews of the Cardinal Farnese
  Have made me umpire in dispute between them
  Which is the greater of the sister arts;
  Painting or sculpture。  Solve for me the doubt。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Sculpture and painting have a common goal;
  And whosoever would attain to it;
  Whichever path he take; will find that goal
  Equally hard to reach。
  GIORGIO。
  No doubt; no doubt;
  But you evade the question。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  When I stand
  In presence of this picture; I concede
  That painting has attained its uttermost;
  But in the presence of my sculptured figures
  I feel that my conception soars beyond
  All limit I have reached。
  GIORGIO。
  You still evade me。
  MICHAEL ANGELO。
  Giorgio Vasari; I have often said
  That I account that pain