章节正文
When I was in the dock she show'd her nerve:
I saw beneath her shawl my old tea-can
Trembling . . . she brought it
To screw me for my work: she loath'd my plan,
And thereforedoubly kind I thought it.
XIV
I've never lost the taste of that same tea:
That liquor on my logic floats like oil,
When I state facts, and fellows disagree.
For human creatures all are in a coil;
All may want pardon.
I see a day when every pot will boil
Harmonious in one great Tea-garden!
XV
We wait the setting of the Dandy's day,
Before that time!--He's furbishing his dress, -
He WILL be ready for it!--and I say,
That yon old dandy rat amid the cress, -
Thanks to hard labour! -
If cleanliness is next to godliness,
The old fat fellow's heaven's neighbour!
XVI
You teach me a fine lesson, my old boy!
I've looked on my superiors far too long,
And small has been my profit as my joy.
You've done the right while I've denounced the wrong.
Prosper me later!
Like you I will despise the sniggering throng,
And please myself and my Creator.
XVII
I'll bring the linendraper and his wife
Some day to see you; taking off my hat.
Should they ask why, I'll answer: in my life
I never found so true a democrat.
Base occupation
Can't rob you of your own esteem, old rat!
I'll preach you to the British nation.
SONG
Should thy love die;
O bury it not under ice-blue eyes!
And lips that deny,
With a scornful surprise,
The life it once lived in thy breast when it wore no disguise.
Should thy love die;
O bury it where the sweet wild-flowers blow!
And breezes go by,
With no whisper of woe;
And strange feet cannot guess of the anguish that slumbers below.
Should thy love die;
O wander once more to the haunt of the bee!
Where the foliaged sky
Is most sacred to see,
And thy being first felt its wild birth like a wind-wakened tree.
Should thy love die;
O dissemble it! smile! let the rose hide the thorn!
While the lark sings on high,
And no thing looks forlorn,
Bury it, bury it, bury it where it was born.
TO ALEX. SMITH, THE 'GLASGOW POET,' ON HIS SONNET TO 'FAME'
Not vainly doth the earnest voice of man
Call for the thing that is his pure desire!
Fame is the birthright of the living lyre!
To noble impulse Nature puts no ban.
Nor vainly to the Sphinx thy voice was raised!
Tho' all thy great emotions like a sea,
Against her stony immortality,
Shatter themselves unheeded and amazed.
Time moves behind her in a blind eclipse:
Yet if in her cold eyes the end of all
Be visible, as on her large closed lips
Hangs dumb the awful riddle of the earth; -
She sees, and she might speak, since that wild call,
The mightywarning of a Poet's birth.
GRANDFATHER BRIDGEMAN
I
'Heigh, boys!' cried Grandfather Bridgeman, 'it's time before dinner
to-day.'
He lifted the crumpled letter, and thumped a surprising 'Hurrah!'
Up jumped all the echoing young ones, but John, with the starch in
his throat,
Said, 'Father, before we make noises, let's see the contents of the
note.'
The old man glared at him harshly, and twinkling made answer: 'Too
bad!
John Bridgeman, I'm always the whisky, and you are the water, my
lad!'
II
But soon it was known thro' the house, and the house ran over for
joy,
That news, good news, great marvels, had come from the soldier boy;
Young Tom, the luckless scapegrace, offshoot of Methodist John;
His grandfather's evening tale, whom the old man hailed as his son.
And the old man's shout of pride was a shout of his victory, too;
For he called his affection a method: the neighbours' opinions he
knew.
III
Meantime, from the morning table removing the stout breakfast cheer,
The drink of the three generations, the milk, the tea, and the beer
(Alone in its generousreading of pints stood the Grandfather's
jug),
The women for sight of the missive came pressing to coax and to hug.
He scattered them quick, with a buss and a smack; thereupon he began
Diversions with John's little Sarah: on Sunday, the naughty old
man!
IV
Then messengers sped to the maltster, the auctioneer, miller, and
all
The seven sons of the farmer who housed in the range of his call.
Likewise the married daughters, three plentiful ladies, prime cooks,
Who bowed to him while they condemned, in meek hope to stand high in
his books.
'John's wife is a fool at a pudding,' they said, and the light carts
up hill
Went merrily, flouting the Sabbath: for puddings well made mend a
will.
V
The day was a van-bird of summer: the robin still piped, but the
blue,
As a warm and dreamy palace with voices of larks ringing thro',
Looked down as if wistfully eyeing the blossoms that fell from its
lap:
A day to sweeten the juices: a day to quicken the sap.
All round the shadowyorchard sloped meadows in gold, and the dear
Shy violets breathed their hearts out: the maidenbreath of the
year!
VI
Full time there was before dinner to bring fifteen of his blood,
To sit at the old man's table: they found that the dinner was good.
But who was she by the lilacs and pouring laburnums concealed,
When under the blossoming apple the chair of the Grandfather
wheeled?
She heard one little child crying, 'Dear brave Cousin Tom!' as it
leapt;
Then murmured she: 'Let me spare them!' and passed round the
walnuts, and wept.
VII
Yet not from sight had she slipped ere feminine eyes could detect
The figure of Mary Charlworth. 'It's just what we all might
expect,'
Was uttered: and: 'Didn't I tell you?' Of Mary the rumour
resounds,
That she is now her own mistress, and mistress of five thousand
pounds.
'Twas she, they say, who cruelly sent young Tom to the war.
Miss Mary, we thank you now! If you knew what we're thanking you
for!
VIII
But, 'Have her in: let her hear it,' called Grandfather Bridgeman,
elate,
While Mary's black-gloved fingers hung trembling with flight on the
gate.
Despite the women's remonstrance, two little ones, lighter than
deer,
Were loosed, and Mary, imprisoned, her whole face white as a tear,
Came forward with culprit footsteps. Her punishment was to
commence:
The pity in her pale visage they read in a different sense.
IX
'You perhaps may remember a fellow, Miss Charlworth, a sort of black
sheep,'
The old man turned his tongue to ironical utterance deep:
'He came of a Methodist dad, so it wasn't his fault if he kicked.
He earned a sad reputation, but Methodists are mortal strict.
His name was Tom, and, dash me! but Bridgeman! I think you might
add:
Whatever he was, bear in mind that he came of a Methodist dad.'
X
This prelude dismally lengthened, till Mary, starting, exclaimed,
'A letter, Sir, from your grandson?' 'Tom Bridgeman that rascal is
named,'
The old man answered, and further, the words that sent Tom to the
ranks
Repeated as words of a person to whom they all owed mighty thanks.
But Mary never blushed: with her eyes on the letter, she sate,
And twice interrupting him faltered, 'The date, may I ask, Sir, the
date?'
XI
'Why, that's what I never look at in a letter,' the farmer replied:
'Facts first! and now I'll be parson.' The Bridgeman women descried
A quiver on Mary's eyebrows. One turned, and while shifting her
comb,
Said low to a sister: 'I'm certain she knows more than we about
Tom.
She wants him now he's a hero!' The same, resuming her place,
Begged Mary to check them the moment she found it a tedious case.
XII
Then as a mastiff swallows the snarling noises of cats,
The voice of the farmer opened. '"Three cheers, and off with your
hats!"
- That's Tom. "We've beaten them, Daddy, and tough work it was, to
be sure!
A regular stand-up combat: eight hours smelling powder and gore.
I entered it Serjeant-Major,"--and now he commands a salute,
And carries the flag of old England! Heigh! see him lift foes on
his foot!
XIII
'--An officer! ay, Miss Charlworth, he is, or he is so to be;
You'll own war isn't such humbug: and Glory means something, you
see.
"But don't say a word," he continues, "against the brave French any
more."
I saw beneath her shawl my old tea-can
Trembling . . . she brought it
To screw me for my work: she loath'd my plan,
And thereforedoubly kind I thought it.
XIV
I've never lost the taste of that same tea:
That liquor on my logic floats like oil,
When I state facts, and fellows disagree.
For human creatures all are in a coil;
All may want pardon.
I see a day when every pot will boil
Harmonious in one great Tea-garden!
XV
We wait the setting of the Dandy's day,
Before that time!--He's furbishing his dress, -
He WILL be ready for it!--and I say,
That yon old dandy rat amid the cress, -
Thanks to hard labour! -
If cleanliness is next to godliness,
The old fat fellow's heaven's neighbour!
XVI
You teach me a fine lesson, my old boy!
I've looked on my superiors far too long,
And small has been my profit as my joy.
You've done the right while I've denounced the wrong.
Prosper me later!
Like you I will despise the sniggering throng,
And please myself and my Creator.
XVII
I'll bring the linendraper and his wife
Some day to see you; taking off my hat.
Should they ask why, I'll answer: in my life
I never found so true a democrat.
Base occupation
Can't rob you of your own esteem, old rat!
I'll preach you to the British nation.
SONG
Should thy love die;
O bury it not under ice-blue eyes!
And lips that deny,
With a scornful surprise,
The life it once lived in thy breast when it wore no disguise.
Should thy love die;
O bury it where the sweet wild-flowers blow!
And breezes go by,
With no whisper of woe;
And strange feet cannot guess of the anguish that slumbers below.
Should thy love die;
O wander once more to the haunt of the bee!
Where the foliaged sky
Is most sacred to see,
And thy being first felt its wild birth like a wind-wakened tree.
Should thy love die;
O dissemble it! smile! let the rose hide the thorn!
While the lark sings on high,
And no thing looks forlorn,
Bury it, bury it, bury it where it was born.
TO ALEX. SMITH, THE 'GLASGOW POET,' ON HIS SONNET TO 'FAME'
Not vainly doth the earnest voice of man
Call for the thing that is his pure desire!
Fame is the birthright of the living lyre!
To noble impulse Nature puts no ban.
Nor vainly to the Sphinx thy voice was raised!
Tho' all thy great emotions like a sea,
Against her stony immortality,
Shatter themselves unheeded and amazed.
Time moves behind her in a blind eclipse:
Yet if in her cold eyes the end of all
Be visible, as on her large closed lips
Hangs dumb the awful riddle of the earth; -
She sees, and she might speak, since that wild call,
The mightywarning of a Poet's birth.
GRANDFATHER BRIDGEMAN
I
'Heigh, boys!' cried Grandfather Bridgeman, 'it's time before dinner
to-day.'
He lifted the crumpled letter, and thumped a surprising 'Hurrah!'
Up jumped all the echoing young ones, but John, with the starch in
his throat,
Said, 'Father, before we make noises, let's see the contents of the
note.'
The old man glared at him harshly, and twinkling made answer: 'Too
bad!
John Bridgeman, I'm always the whisky, and you are the water, my
lad!'
II
But soon it was known thro' the house, and the house ran over for
joy,
That news, good news, great marvels, had come from the soldier boy;
Young Tom, the luckless scapegrace, offshoot of Methodist John;
His grandfather's evening tale, whom the old man hailed as his son.
And the old man's shout of pride was a shout of his victory, too;
For he called his affection a method: the neighbours' opinions he
knew.
III
Meantime, from the morning table removing the stout breakfast cheer,
The drink of the three generations, the milk, the tea, and the beer
(Alone in its generousreading of pints stood the Grandfather's
jug),
The women for sight of the missive came pressing to coax and to hug.
He scattered them quick, with a buss and a smack; thereupon he began
Diversions with John's little Sarah: on Sunday, the naughty old
man!
IV
Then messengers sped to the maltster, the auctioneer, miller, and
all
The seven sons of the farmer who housed in the range of his call.
Likewise the married daughters, three plentiful ladies, prime cooks,
Who bowed to him while they condemned, in meek hope to stand high in
his books.
'John's wife is a fool at a pudding,' they said, and the light carts
up hill
Went merrily, flouting the Sabbath: for puddings well made mend a
will.
V
The day was a van-bird of summer: the robin still piped, but the
blue,
As a warm and dreamy palace with voices of larks ringing thro',
Looked down as if wistfully eyeing the blossoms that fell from its
lap:
A day to sweeten the juices: a day to quicken the sap.
All round the shadowyorchard sloped meadows in gold, and the dear
Shy violets breathed their hearts out: the maidenbreath of the
year!
VI
Full time there was before dinner to bring fifteen of his blood,
To sit at the old man's table: they found that the dinner was good.
But who was she by the lilacs and pouring laburnums concealed,
When under the blossoming apple the chair of the Grandfather
wheeled?
She heard one little child crying, 'Dear brave Cousin Tom!' as it
leapt;
Then murmured she: 'Let me spare them!' and passed round the
walnuts, and wept.
VII
Yet not from sight had she slipped ere feminine eyes could detect
The figure of Mary Charlworth. 'It's just what we all might
expect,'
Was uttered: and: 'Didn't I tell you?' Of Mary the rumour
resounds,
That she is now her own mistress, and mistress of five thousand
pounds.
'Twas she, they say, who cruelly sent young Tom to the war.
Miss Mary, we thank you now! If you knew what we're thanking you
for!
VIII
But, 'Have her in: let her hear it,' called Grandfather Bridgeman,
elate,
While Mary's black-gloved fingers hung trembling with flight on the
gate.
Despite the women's remonstrance, two little ones, lighter than
deer,
Were loosed, and Mary, imprisoned, her whole face white as a tear,
Came forward with culprit footsteps. Her punishment was to
commence:
The pity in her pale visage they read in a different sense.
IX
'You perhaps may remember a fellow, Miss Charlworth, a sort of black
sheep,'
The old man turned his tongue to ironical utterance deep:
'He came of a Methodist dad, so it wasn't his fault if he kicked.
He earned a sad reputation, but Methodists are mortal strict.
His name was Tom, and, dash me! but Bridgeman! I think you might
add:
Whatever he was, bear in mind that he came of a Methodist dad.'
X
This prelude dismally lengthened, till Mary, starting, exclaimed,
'A letter, Sir, from your grandson?' 'Tom Bridgeman that rascal is
named,'
The old man answered, and further, the words that sent Tom to the
ranks
Repeated as words of a person to whom they all owed mighty thanks.
But Mary never blushed: with her eyes on the letter, she sate,
And twice interrupting him faltered, 'The date, may I ask, Sir, the
date?'
XI
'Why, that's what I never look at in a letter,' the farmer replied:
'Facts first! and now I'll be parson.' The Bridgeman women descried
A quiver on Mary's eyebrows. One turned, and while shifting her
comb,
Said low to a sister: 'I'm certain she knows more than we about
Tom.
She wants him now he's a hero!' The same, resuming her place,
Begged Mary to check them the moment she found it a tedious case.
XII
Then as a mastiff swallows the snarling noises of cats,
The voice of the farmer opened. '"Three cheers, and off with your
hats!"
- That's Tom. "We've beaten them, Daddy, and tough work it was, to
be sure!
A regular stand-up combat: eight hours smelling powder and gore.
I entered it Serjeant-Major,"--and now he commands a salute,
And carries the flag of old England! Heigh! see him lift foes on
his foot!
XIII
'--An officer! ay, Miss Charlworth, he is, or he is so to be;
You'll own war isn't such humbug: and Glory means something, you
see.
"But don't say a word," he continues, "against the brave French any
more."
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:]
ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词) - liquor [´likə] n.酒类；(溶)液 (初中英语单词)
- despise [di´spaiz] vt.轻视，藐视 (初中英语单词)
- preach [pri:tʃ] v.宣扬；鼓吹 n.训诫 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- sacred [´seikrid] a.神圣的；庄严的 (初中英语单词)
- earnest [´ə:nist] a.认真的 n.认真；诚恳 (初中英语单词)
- impulse [´impʌls] n.推动(力)；冲动；刺激 (初中英语单词)
- visible [´vizəbəl] a.可见的；明显的 (初中英语单词)
- grandfather [´grænd,fɑ:ðə] n.(外)祖父；祖先 (初中英语单词)
- surprising [sə´praiziŋ] a.惊人的；意外的 (初中英语单词)
- contents [´kɔ:ntents] n.容纳物；要旨 (初中英语单词)
- victory [´viktəri] n.胜利，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- affection [ə´fekʃən] n.友爱；慈爱 (初中英语单词)
- generous [´dʒenərəs] a.慷慨的；丰盛的 (初中英语单词)
- reading [´ri:diŋ] n.(阅)读；朗读；读物 (初中英语单词)
- thereupon [,ðeərə´pɔn] ad.因此；于是 (初中英语单词)
- orchard [´ɔ:tʃəd] n.果园 (初中英语单词)
- maiden [´meidn] n.少女 a.未婚的 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- mistress [´mistris] n.女主人；情妇；女能手 (初中英语单词)
- flight [flait] n.逃走；飞行；班机 (初中英语单词)
- punishment [´pʌniʃmənt] n.罚，刑罚 (初中英语单词)
- quiver [´kwivə] v.抖动 n.颤动(声) (初中英语单词)
- beaten [´bi:tn] beat 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- esteem [i´sti:m] n.尊重 vt.认为；感到 (高中英语单词)
- anguish [´æŋgwiʃ] n.(极度的)痛苦；苦恼 (高中英语单词)
- vainly [´veinli] ad.虚荣地；自负地 (高中英语单词)
- riddle [´ridl] n.谜(语) v.解(谜等) (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- starch [stɑ:tʃ] n.淀粉 vt.给...上浆 (高中英语单词)
- naughty [´nɔ:ti] a.顽皮的；下流的 (高中英语单词)
- plentiful [´plentifəl] a.丰富的；多的 (高中英语单词)
- merrily [´merili] ad.欢乐地；愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- quicken [´kwikən] v.加快；加速；鼓舞 (高中英语单词)
- shadowy [´ʃædəui] a.有阴影的；模糊的 (高中英语单词)
- mortal [´mɔ:tl] a.致命的 n.凡人 (高中英语单词)
- rascal [´rɑ:skəl] n.流氓 (高中英语单词)
- combat [´kɔmbæt] v.&n.斗争；战斗；争斗 (高中英语单词)
- setting [´setiŋ] n.安装；排字；布景 (英语四级单词)
- cleanliness [´kli:nlinis] n.清洁 (英语四级单词)
- sonnet [´sɔnit] n.十四行诗 (英语四级单词)
- warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
- miller [´milə] n.磨坊主；铣床(工) (英语四级单词)
- sabbath [´sæbəθ] n.安息日 (英语四级单词)
- sweeten [´swi:tn] v.(使)变甜(可爱) (英语四级单词)
- feminine [´feminin] a.女性的 (英语四级单词)
- cruelly [´kruəli] ad.残酷地；极，非常 (英语四级单词)
- utterance [´ʌtərəns] n.发音；言辞；所说的话 (英语四级单词)
- reputation [repju´teiʃən] n.名誉；名声；信誉 (英语四级单词)
- tedious [´ti:diəs] a.冗长的；乏味的 (英语四级单词)
- doubly [´dʌbli] ad.加倍地，双重地 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- scornful [´skɔ:nful] a.轻蔑的，藐视的 (英语六级单词)
- birthright [´bə:θrait] n.生来就有的权利 (英语六级单词)
- harshly [´hɑ:ʃli] ad.粗糙地，冷酷地 (英语六级单词)
- dreamy [´dri:mi] a.心不在焉的；朦胧的 (英语六级单词)
- wistfully [´wistfuli] ad.渴望地；不满足地 (英语六级单词)
- culprit [´kʌlprit] n.犯人；罪犯 (英语六级单词)
- visage [´vizidʒ] n.面容，面貌 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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