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Ode to a Nightingale《夜莺颂》1
济慈
Ⅰ
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock1 I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate2 to the drains3
One minute past, and Lethe wards4 had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy5 happy lot,
But being too happy in thine5 happiness,--
＊ That thou5, light-winged Dryad6 of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen7 green, and shadows numberless,
Singest8 of summer in full throated ease9.
Ⅱ
O, for10 a draugh11t of vintage12! that hath13 been
Cool' d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora14 and the country geen.
Dance, and Provengal15 song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for10 a beaker16 full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene17,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee5 fade away into the forest dim:
Ⅲ
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou5 among the leaves hast18 never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret19
Here20, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy21 shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs22,
Where youth grows pale, and speater-thin23, and dies;
Where but24 to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed25 despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love ＊ pine at them26 beyond tomorrow.
Ⅳ
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not＊ eharioted by Bacchus and his pards27,
But on the viewless28 wings of Poesy29,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! ＊ tender is the night30,
And haply31 the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Clustered around by all her starry Fays32;
But here33 there is no light,
Save34 what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous35 glooms and winding mossy ways.
Ⅴ
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense36 hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalméd37 darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith38 the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit tree wild;
White hawthorn39, and the
pastoral40 eglantine41;
Fast fading violets covered up in leaves;
And mid-May' s eldest child,
The 'coming musk-rose42, full of dewy wine,
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Ⅵ
Darkling43 I listen; and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a
muséd44 rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich45 to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While ＊ thou art46 pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still＊ wouldst thou47 sing, and I have ears in vain--
To thy high requiem48 become a sod49.
Ⅶ
＊ Thou wast50 not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the selfsame song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth51 when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that oft times hath
Charmed magic casements52, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn53.
Ⅷ
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy54 cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving olf55.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill side; and now ' its buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep?
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