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DRAMATIC LYRICS.TXT-Part10_ROBERT BROWNING(1812-1889)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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``Thy whole people, the countless, with ardour, till they too give forth



``A like cheer to their sons, who in turn, fill the South and the North

``With the radiance thy deed was the germ of. Carouse in the past!



``But the license of age has its limit; thou diest at last:

``As the lion when age dims his eyeball, the rose at her height



``So with man---so his power and his beauty for ever take flight.

``No! Again a long draught of my soul-wine! Look forth o'er the years!



``Thou hast done now with eyes for the actual; begin with the seer's!

``Is Saul dead? In the depth of the vale make his tomb---bid arise



``A grey mountain of marble heaped four-square, till, built to the skies,

``Let it mark where the great First King slumbers: whose fame would ye know?



``Up above see the rock's naked face, where the record shall go

``In great characters cut by the scribe,---Such was Saul, so he did;



``With the sages directing the work, by the populace chid,---

``For not half, they'll affirm, is comprised there! Which fault to amend,



``In the grove with his kind grows the cedar, whereon they shall spend

``(See, in tablets 'tis level before them) their praise, and record



``With the gold of the graver, Saul's story,---the statesman's great word

``Side by side with the poet's sweet comment. The river's a-wave



``With smooth paper-reeds grazing each other when prophet-winds rave:

``So the pen gives unborn generations their due and their part



``In thy being! Then, first of the mighty, thank God that thou art!''

XIV.



And behold while I sang ... but O Thou who didst grant me that day,

And before it not seldom hast granted thy help to essay,



Carry on and complete an adventure,---my shield and my sword

In that act where my soul was thy servant, thy word was my word,---



Still be with me, who then at the summit of human endeavour

And scaling the highest, man's thought could, gazed hopeless as ever



On the new stretch of heaven above me---till, mighty to save,

Just one lift of thy hand cleared that distance---God's throne from man's grave!



Let me tell out my tale to its ending---my voice to my heart

Which can scarce dare believe in what marvels last night I took part,



As this morning I gather the fragments, alone with my sheep,

And still fear lest the terrible glory evanish like sleep!



For I wake in the grey dewy covert, while Hebron<*2> upheaves

The dawn struggling with night on his shoulder, and Kidron<*3> retrieves



Slow the damage of yesterday's sunshine.

XV.



I say then,---my song

While I sang thus, assuring the monarch, and ever more strong



Made a proffer of good to console him---he slowly resumed

His old motions and habitudes kingly. The right-hand replumed



His black locks to their wonted composure, adjusted the swathes

Of his turban, and see---the huge sweat that his countenance bathes,



He wipes off with the robe; and he girds now his loins as of yore,

And feels slow for the armlets of price, with the clasp set before.



He is Saul, ye remember in glory,---ere error had bent

The broad brow from the daily communion; and still, though much spent



Be the life and the bearing that front you, the same, God did choose,

To receive what a man may waste, desecrate, never quite lose.



So sank he along by the tent-prop till, stayed by the pile

Of his armour and war-cloak and garments, he leaned there awhile,



And sat out my singing,---one arm round the tent-prop, to raise

His bent head, and the other hung slack---till I touched on the praise



I foresaw from all men in all time, to the man patient there;

And thus ended, the harp falling forward. Then first I was 'ware



That he sat, as I say, with my head just above his vast knees

Which were thrust out on each side around me, like oak-roots which please



To encircle a lamb when it slumbers. I looked up to know

If the best I could do had brought solace: he spoke not, but slow



Lifted up the hand slack at his side, till he laid it with care

Soft and grave, but in mild settled will, on my brow: thro' my hair



The large fingers were pushed, and he bent back my bead, with kind power---

All my face back, intent to peruse it, as men do a flower.



Thus held he me there with his great eyes that scrutinized mine---

And oh, all my heart how it loved him! but where was the sign?



I yearned---``Could I help thee, my father, inventing a bliss,

``I would add, to that life of the past, both the future and this;



``I would give thee new life altogether, as good, ages hence,

``As this moment,---had love but the warrant, love's heart to dispense!''



XVI.




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