章节正文
By gap and steep.
Page: 4
Keen fitful gusts that fly before
The wings of storm when day hath shut
Its eyes on mountains, flaw by flaw,
Fleet down by whistling boxtree-but
Against the hut.
And ringed and girt with lurid pomp,
Far eastern cliffs start up and take
Thick steaming vapours from a swamp
That lieth like a great blind lake
Of face opaque.
The moss that like a tender grief,
About an English ruin clings -
What time the wan autumnal leaf
Faints, after many wanderings
On windy wings -
That gracious growth, whose quiet green
Is as a love in days austere,
Was never seen - hath never been -
On slab or roof, deserted here
For many a year.
Nor comes the bird whose speech is song -
Whose songs are silvery syllables
That unto glimmering woods belong,
And deep, meandering mountain dells
By yellow wells.
Page: 5
But rather here the wild-dog halts,
And lifts the paw, and looks, and howls;
And here, in ruined forest-vaults,
Abide dim, dark, death-featured owls,
Like monks in cowls.
Across this hut the nettle runs;
And livid adders make their lair
In corners dank from lack of suns;
And out of foetid furrows stare
The growths that scare.
Here Summer's grasp of fire is laid
On bark and slabs that rot, and breed
Squat ugly things of deadly shade-
The scorpion, and the spiteful seed
Of centipede.
Unhallowed thunders harsh and dry,
And flaming noontides mute with heat,
Beneath the breathless" target="_blank" title="a.屏息的">breathless, brazen sky,
Upon these rifted rafters beat
With torrid feet.
And night by night, the fitful gale
Doth carry past the bittern's boom,
The dingo's yell, the plover's wail,
While lumbering shadows start, and loom,
And hiss through gloom.
Page: 6
No sign of grace - no hope of green,
Cool-blossomed seasons marks the spot;
But, chained to iron doom, I ween,
'Tis left, like skeleton, to rot
Where ruth is not.
For on this Hut hath Murder writ,
With bloody fingers hellish things;
And God will never visit it
With flower or leaf of sweet-faced Springs,
Or gentle wings.
Page: 7
SEPTEMBER IN AUSTRALIA
GREY Winter hath gone, like a wearisome guest,
And, behold, for repayment,
September comes in with the wind of the West
And the Spring in her raiment!
The ways of the frost have been filled of the flowers
While the forest discovers
Wild wings with the halo of hyaline hours,
And the music of lovers.
September, the maid with the swift, silver feet!
She glides, and she graces
The valleys of coolness, the slopes of the heat,
With her blossomy traces.
Sweet month with a mouth that is made of a rose,
She lightens and lingers
In spots where the harp of the evening glows,
Attuned by her fingers.
Page: 8
The stream from its home in the hollow hill slips
In a darling old fashion;
And the day goeth down with a song on its lips,
Whose key-note is passion.
Far out in the fierce, bitter front of the sea
I stand and remember
Dead things that were brothers and sisters of thee,
Resplendent September!
The West, when it blows at the fall of the noon,
And beats on the beaches,
Is filled with a tender and tremulous tune
That touches and teaches:
The stories of Youth, of the burden of Time,
And the death of Devotion,
Come back with the wind, and are themes of the rhyme
In the waves of the ocean.
We, having a secret to others unknown,
In the cool mountain-mosses,
May whisper together, September, alone
Of our loves and our losses!
One word for her beauty, and one for the grace
She gave to the hours;
And then we may kiss her, and suffer her face
To sleep with the flowers.
Page: 9
High places that knew of the gold and the white
On the forehead of Morning,
Now darken and quake, and the steps of the Night
Are heavy with warning!
Her voice in the distance is lofty and loud,
Through the echoing gorges;
She hath hidden her eyes in a mantle of cloud,
And her feet in the surges!
On the tops of the hills; on the turreted cones -
Chief temples of thunder -
The gale, like a ghost, in the middle watch moans,
Gliding over and under.
The sea, flying white through the rack and the rain,
Leapeth wild at the forelands;
And the plover, whose cry is like passion with pain,
Complains in the moorlands.
Oh, season of changes - of shadow and shine -
September the splendid!
My song hath no music to mingle with thine,
And its burden is ended:
But thou, being born of the winds and the sun,
By mountain, by river,
Mayst lighten and listen, and loiter and run,
With thy voices for ever.
Page: 10
GHOST GLEN
``SHUT your ears, stranger, or turn from Ghost Glen now,
For the paths are grown over, untrodden by men now-
Shut your ears, stranger,'' saith the grey mother, crooning
Her sorcery runic, when sets the half-moon in.
To-night the North-Easter goes travelling slowly,
But it never stoops down to that Hollow unholy;
To-night it rolls loud on the ridges red-litten,
But it cannot abide in that forest, sin-smitten.
For over the pitfall the moon-dew is thawing,
And, with never a body, two shadows stand sawing!
The wraiths of two sawyers (step under and under),
Who did a foul murder and were blackened with thunder!
Page: 11
Whenever the storm-wind comes driven and driving,
Through the blood-spattered timber you may see the saw striving -
You may see the saw heaving, and falling, and heaving,
Whenever the sea-creek is chafing and grieving!
And across a burnt body, as black as an adder,
Sits the sprite of a sheep-dog (was ever sight sadder?)
For, as the dry thunder splits louder and faster,
This sprite of a sheep-dog howls for his master.
``Oh, count your beads deftly,'' saith the grey mother, crooning
Her sorcery runic, when sets the half-moon in.
And well may she mutter, for the dark, hollow laughter
You will hear in the sawpits and the bloody logs after.
Ay, count your beads deftly, and keep your ways wary,
For the sake of the Saviour and sweet Mother Mary!
Pray for your peace in these perilous places,
And pray for the laying of horrible faces!
One starts, with a forehead wrinkled and livid,
Aghast at the lightnings sudden and vivid!
One telleth, with curses, the gold that they drew there
(Ah! cross your breast humbly) from him whom they slew there!
Page: 12
The stranger, who came from the loved - the romantic
Island that sleeps on the moaning Atlantic;
Leaving behind him a patient home yearning
For the steps in the distance, never returning;-
Who was left in the Forest, shrunken and starkly
Burnt by his slayers (so men have said, darkly):
With the half-crazy sheep-dog, who cowered beside there,
And yelled at the silence, and marvelled, and died there!
Yea, cross your breast humbly, and hold your breath tightly,
Or fly for your life from those shadows unsightly;
From the set staring features (cold, and so young too!)
And the death on the lips that a mother hath clung to.
I tell you, that bushman is braver than most men,
Who even in daylight doth go through the Ghost Glen,
Although in that Hollow, unholy and lonely,
He sees the dank sawpits and bloody logs only.
Page: 13
DAPHNE
DAPHNE! Ladon's daughter, Daphne! Set thyself in silver light,
Take thy thoughts of fairest texture, weave them into words of white -
Weave the rhyme of rose-lipped Daphne, nymph of woodedstream and shade,
Flying love of bright Apollo, - fleeting type of faultless maid!
She, when followed from the forelands by the lord of lyre and lute,
Sped towards far-singing waters, past deep gardens flushed with fruit;
Took the path against Peneus, panted by its yellow banks;
Turned, and looked, and flew the faster through grey-tufted thicket ranks;
Flashed amongst high flowered sedges: leaped across the brook, and ran
Down to where the fourfold shadows of a nether glade began;
Page: 14
There she dropped, like falling Hesper, heavy hair of radiant head
Hiding all the young abundance of her beauty's white and red.
Came the yellow-tressed Far-darter - came the god whose feet are fire,
On his lips the name of Daphne, in his eyes a great desire;
Page: 4
Keen fitful gusts that fly before
The wings of storm when day hath shut
Its eyes on mountains, flaw by flaw,
Fleet down by whistling boxtree-but
Against the hut.
And ringed and girt with lurid pomp,
Far eastern cliffs start up and take
Thick steaming vapours from a swamp
That lieth like a great blind lake
Of face opaque.
The moss that like a tender grief,
About an English ruin clings -
What time the wan autumnal leaf
Faints, after many wanderings
On windy wings -
That gracious growth, whose quiet green
Is as a love in days austere,
Was never seen - hath never been -
On slab or roof, deserted here
For many a year.
Nor comes the bird whose speech is song -
Whose songs are silvery syllables
That unto glimmering woods belong,
And deep, meandering mountain dells
By yellow wells.
Page: 5
But rather here the wild-dog halts,
And lifts the paw, and looks, and howls;
And here, in ruined forest-vaults,
Abide dim, dark, death-featured owls,
Like monks in cowls.
Across this hut the nettle runs;
And livid adders make their lair
In corners dank from lack of suns;
And out of foetid furrows stare
The growths that scare.
Here Summer's grasp of fire is laid
On bark and slabs that rot, and breed
Squat ugly things of deadly shade-
The scorpion, and the spiteful seed
Of centipede.
Unhallowed thunders harsh and dry,
And flaming noontides mute with heat,
Beneath the breathless" target="_blank" title="a.屏息的">breathless, brazen sky,
Upon these rifted rafters beat
With torrid feet.
And night by night, the fitful gale
Doth carry past the bittern's boom,
The dingo's yell, the plover's wail,
While lumbering shadows start, and loom,
And hiss through gloom.
Page: 6
No sign of grace - no hope of green,
Cool-blossomed seasons marks the spot;
But, chained to iron doom, I ween,
'Tis left, like skeleton, to rot
Where ruth is not.
For on this Hut hath Murder writ,
With bloody fingers hellish things;
And God will never visit it
With flower or leaf of sweet-faced Springs,
Or gentle wings.
Page: 7
SEPTEMBER IN AUSTRALIA
GREY Winter hath gone, like a wearisome guest,
And, behold, for repayment,
September comes in with the wind of the West
And the Spring in her raiment!
The ways of the frost have been filled of the flowers
While the forest discovers
Wild wings with the halo of hyaline hours,
And the music of lovers.
September, the maid with the swift, silver feet!
She glides, and she graces
The valleys of coolness, the slopes of the heat,
With her blossomy traces.
Sweet month with a mouth that is made of a rose,
She lightens and lingers
In spots where the harp of the evening glows,
Attuned by her fingers.
Page: 8
The stream from its home in the hollow hill slips
In a darling old fashion;
And the day goeth down with a song on its lips,
Whose key-note is passion.
Far out in the fierce, bitter front of the sea
I stand and remember
Dead things that were brothers and sisters of thee,
Resplendent September!
The West, when it blows at the fall of the noon,
And beats on the beaches,
Is filled with a tender and tremulous tune
That touches and teaches:
The stories of Youth, of the burden of Time,
And the death of Devotion,
Come back with the wind, and are themes of the rhyme
In the waves of the ocean.
We, having a secret to others unknown,
In the cool mountain-mosses,
May whisper together, September, alone
Of our loves and our losses!
One word for her beauty, and one for the grace
She gave to the hours;
And then we may kiss her, and suffer her face
To sleep with the flowers.
Page: 9
High places that knew of the gold and the white
On the forehead of Morning,
Now darken and quake, and the steps of the Night
Are heavy with warning!
Her voice in the distance is lofty and loud,
Through the echoing gorges;
She hath hidden her eyes in a mantle of cloud,
And her feet in the surges!
On the tops of the hills; on the turreted cones -
Chief temples of thunder -
The gale, like a ghost, in the middle watch moans,
Gliding over and under.
The sea, flying white through the rack and the rain,
Leapeth wild at the forelands;
And the plover, whose cry is like passion with pain,
Complains in the moorlands.
Oh, season of changes - of shadow and shine -
September the splendid!
My song hath no music to mingle with thine,
And its burden is ended:
But thou, being born of the winds and the sun,
By mountain, by river,
Mayst lighten and listen, and loiter and run,
With thy voices for ever.
Page: 10
GHOST GLEN
``SHUT your ears, stranger, or turn from Ghost Glen now,
For the paths are grown over, untrodden by men now-
Shut your ears, stranger,'' saith the grey mother, crooning
Her sorcery runic, when sets the half-moon in.
To-night the North-Easter goes travelling slowly,
But it never stoops down to that Hollow unholy;
To-night it rolls loud on the ridges red-litten,
But it cannot abide in that forest, sin-smitten.
For over the pitfall the moon-dew is thawing,
And, with never a body, two shadows stand sawing!
The wraiths of two sawyers (step under and under),
Who did a foul murder and were blackened with thunder!
Page: 11
Whenever the storm-wind comes driven and driving,
Through the blood-spattered timber you may see the saw striving -
You may see the saw heaving, and falling, and heaving,
Whenever the sea-creek is chafing and grieving!
And across a burnt body, as black as an adder,
Sits the sprite of a sheep-dog (was ever sight sadder?)
For, as the dry thunder splits louder and faster,
This sprite of a sheep-dog howls for his master.
``Oh, count your beads deftly,'' saith the grey mother, crooning
Her sorcery runic, when sets the half-moon in.
And well may she mutter, for the dark, hollow laughter
You will hear in the sawpits and the bloody logs after.
Ay, count your beads deftly, and keep your ways wary,
For the sake of the Saviour and sweet Mother Mary!
Pray for your peace in these perilous places,
And pray for the laying of horrible faces!
One starts, with a forehead wrinkled and livid,
Aghast at the lightnings sudden and vivid!
One telleth, with curses, the gold that they drew there
(Ah! cross your breast humbly) from him whom they slew there!
Page: 12
The stranger, who came from the loved - the romantic
Island that sleeps on the moaning Atlantic;
Leaving behind him a patient home yearning
For the steps in the distance, never returning;-
Who was left in the Forest, shrunken and starkly
Burnt by his slayers (so men have said, darkly):
With the half-crazy sheep-dog, who cowered beside there,
And yelled at the silence, and marvelled, and died there!
Yea, cross your breast humbly, and hold your breath tightly,
Or fly for your life from those shadows unsightly;
From the set staring features (cold, and so young too!)
And the death on the lips that a mother hath clung to.
I tell you, that bushman is braver than most men,
Who even in daylight doth go through the Ghost Glen,
Although in that Hollow, unholy and lonely,
He sees the dank sawpits and bloody logs only.
Page: 13
DAPHNE
DAPHNE! Ladon's daughter, Daphne! Set thyself in silver light,
Take thy thoughts of fairest texture, weave them into words of white -
Weave the rhyme of rose-lipped Daphne, nymph of woodedstream and shade,
Flying love of bright Apollo, - fleeting type of faultless maid!
She, when followed from the forelands by the lord of lyre and lute,
Sped towards far-singing waters, past deep gardens flushed with fruit;
Took the path against Peneus, panted by its yellow banks;
Turned, and looked, and flew the faster through grey-tufted thicket ranks;
Flashed amongst high flowered sedges: leaped across the brook, and ran
Down to where the fourfold shadows of a nether glade began;
Page: 14
There she dropped, like falling Hesper, heavy hair of radiant head
Hiding all the young abundance of her beauty's white and red.
Came the yellow-tressed Far-darter - came the god whose feet are fire,
On his lips the name of Daphne, in his eyes a great desire;
- gracious [´greiʃəs]
a.和蔼可亲的；任慈的 (初中英语单词) - deadly [´dedli] a.致命的 ad.死一般地 (初中英语单词)
- lumbering [´lʌmbəriŋ] n.伐木(业) (初中英语单词)
- bloody [´blʌdi] a.(流)血的；血腥的 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- darling [´dɑ:liŋ] n.爱人 a.亲爱的 (初中英语单词)
- fierce [fiəs] a.残忍的；强烈的 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- thunder [´θʌndə] n.雷 vi.打雷 vt.吼出 (初中英语单词)
- passion [´pæʃən] n.激情；激怒；恋爱 (初中英语单词)
- mingle [´miŋgəl] v.(使)混合；交往 (初中英语单词)
- driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- timber [´timbə] n.木材；木料；横梁 (初中英语单词)
- mutter [´mʌtə] v.&n.咕哝；嘀咕 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- daylight [´deilait] n.日光；黎明 (初中英语单词)
- apollo [ə´pɔləu] n.阿波罗 (初中英语单词)
- abundance [ə´bʌndəns] n.丰富，充裕 (初中英语单词)
- breathless [´breθlis] a.屏息的 (高中英语单词)
- skeleton [´skelitən] n.骨骼；骷髅 (高中英语单词)
- darken [´dɑ:kən] v.变黑，转暗 (高中英语单词)
- mantle [´mæntl] n.斗蓬 v.覆盖；笼罩 (高中英语单词)
- lighten [´laitn] v.减轻；点亮；启发 (高中英语单词)
- perilous [´periləs] a.危险的；冒险的 (高中英语单词)
- thicket [´θikit] n.灌木丛；密集的东西 (高中英语单词)
- amongst [ə´mʌŋst] prep.其中之一 =among (高中英语单词)
- radiant [´reidiənt] a.发光的 n.光源(体) (高中英语单词)
- silvery [´silvəri] a.银一般的 (英语四级单词)
- flaming [´fleimiŋ] a.熊熊燃烧的；热情的 (英语四级单词)
- brazen [´breizən] a.黄铜制的；无耻的 (英语四级单词)
- saviour [´seiviə] n.救星；救助者 (英语四级单词)
- humbly [´hʌmbli] ad.恭顺地，谦卑地 (英语四级单词)
- texture [´tekstʃə] n.(织物等的)质地 (英语四级单词)
- wooded [´wudid] a.多树林的 (英语四级单词)
- ringed [riŋd] a.带环的；戴戒指的 (英语六级单词)
- nettle [´netl] n.荨麻 vt.惹怒 (英语六级单词)
- coolness [´ku:lnis] n.凉，凉爽；冷静 (英语六级单词)
- tremulous [´tremjuləs] a.发抖的；震颤的 (英语六级单词)
- loiter [´lɔitə] v.闲逛，消磨时间 (英语六级单词)
- sprite [sprait] n.小妖精；捣蛋鬼 (英语六级单词)
- deftly [´deftli] ad.灵巧地，敏捷地 (英语六级单词)
- daphne [´dæfni] n.瑞香 (英语六级单词)
- fleeting [´fli:tiŋ] a.飞逝的，疾驰的 (英语六级单词)
- faultless [´fɔ:ltləs] a.无过失的；完美的 (英语六级单词)
- nether [´neðə] a.下面的；地下的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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