the home book of verse-1-第44节
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Mercy will sit between
Throned in celestial sheen；
With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering；
And Heaven； as at some festival；
Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall。
But wisest Fate says No；
This must not yet be so；
The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy
That on the bitter cross
Must redeem our loss；
So both himself and us to glorify：
Yet first； to those ychained in sleep
The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep；
With such a horrid clang
As on Mount Sinai rang
While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake：
The aged Earth aghast
With terror of that blast
Shall from the surface to the centre shake；
When； at the world's last session；
The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His throne。
And then at last our bliss
Full and perfect is；
But now begins； for from this happy day
The old Dragon under ground；
In straiter limits bound；
Not half so far casts his usurped sway；
And； wroth to see his kingdom fail；
Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail。
The oracles are dumb；
No voice or hideous hum
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving。
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine；
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving：
No nightly trance or breathed spell
Inspires the pale…eyed priest from the prophetic cell。
The lonely mountains o'er
And the resounding shore
A voice of weeping heard； and loud lament；
From haunted spring and dale
Edged with poplar pale
The parting Genius is with sighing sent；
With flower…inwoven tresses torn
The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn。
In consecrated earth
And on the holy hearth
The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint；
In urns； and altars round
A drear and dying sound
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint；
And the chill marble seems to sweat；
While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat。
Peor and Baalim
Forsake their temples dim；
With that twice…battered god of Palestine；
And mooned Ashtaroth
Heaven's queen and mother both；
Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine；
The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn：
In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn。
And sullen Moloch； fled；
Hath left in shadows dread
His burning idol all of blackest hue；
In vain with cymbals' ring
They call the grisly king；
In dismal dance about the furnace blue；
The brutish gods of Nile as fast；
Isis； and Orus； and the dog Anubis； haste。
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove； or green；
Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud：
Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest；
Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud；
In vain with timbrelled anthems dark
The sable stoled sorcerers bear his worshiped ark。
He feels from Juda's land
The dreaded Infant's hand；
The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyen；
Nor all the gods beside
Longer dare abide
Nor Typhon huge ending in snaky twine：
Our Babe； to show his Godhead true；
Can in His swaddling bands control the damned crew。
So； when the sun in bed
Curtained with cloudy red
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave；
The flocking shadows pale
Troop to the infernal jail；
Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave：
And the yellow…skirted fays
Fly after the night…steeds； leaving their moon…loved maze。
But see！ the Virgin blest
Hath laid her Babe to rest；
Time is； our tedious song should here have ending：
Heaven's youngest teemed star
Hath fixed her polished car；
Her sleeping Lord with hand…maid lamp attending：
And all about the courtly stable
Bright…harnessed Angels sit in order serviceable。
John Milton ＇1608…1674＇
FAIRYLAND
THE FAIRY BOOK
In summer； when the grass is thick； if mother has the time；
She shows me with her pencil how a poet makes a rhyme；
And often she is sweet enough to choose a leafy nook；
Where I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairybook。
In winter； when the corn's asleep； and birds are not in song；
And crocuses and violets have been away too long；
Dear mother puts her thimble by in answer to my look；
And I cuddle up so closely when she reads the Fairybook。
And mother tells the servants that of course they must contrive
To manage all the household things from four till half…past five；
For we really cannot suffer interruption from the cook；
When we cuddle close together with the happy Fairybook。
Norman Gale ＇1862…
FAIRY SONGS
I
From 〃A Midsummer…Night's Dream〃
Over hill； over dale；
Through bush； through brier；
Over park； over pale；
Through flood； through fire；
I do wander everywhere；
Swifter than the moon's sphere；
And I serve the fairy queen；
To dew her orbs upon the green：
The cowslips tall her pensioners be；
In their gold coats spots you see；
Those be rubies； fairy favors；
In those freckles live their savors：
I must go seek some dew…drops here；
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear。
II
From 〃A Midsummer…Night's Dream〃
You spotted snakes with double tongue；
Thorny hedgehogs； be not seen；
Newts and blind…worms； do no wrong；
Come not near our fairy queen。
Philomel； with melody；
Sing in our sweet lullaby；
Lulla； lulla； lullaby； lulla； lulla； lullaby！
Never harm；
Nor spell nor charm；
Come our lovely lady nigh；
So； good night； with lullaby。
Weaving spiders； come not here；
Hence； you long…legged spinners； hence！
Beetles black； approach not near；
Worm nor snail； do no offence。
Philomel； with melody；
Sing in our sweet lullaby；
Lulla； lulla； lullaby； lulla； lulla； lullaby！
Never harm；
Nor spell nor charm；
Come our lovely lady nigh；
So； good…night； with lullaby。
III
From 〃The Tempest〃
Come unto these yellow sands；
And then take hands：
Court'sied when you have； and kissed； …
The wild waves whist； …
Foot it featly here and there；
And； sweet sprites； the burthen bear。
Hark； hark！
Bow； wow；
The watch…dogs bark：
Bow； wow。
Hark； hark！ I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry； Cock…a…diddle…dow！
IV
From 〃The Tempest〃
Where the bee sucks； there suck I：
In a cowslip's bell I lie；
There I couch when owls do cry。
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily：
Merrily； merrily； shall I live now；
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough。
William Shakespeare ＇1564…1616＇
QUEEN MAB
From 〃The Satyr〃
This is Mab； the Mistress…Fairy；
That doth nightly rob the dairy
And can hurt or help the churning；
As she please without discerning。
She that pinches country wenches
If they rub not clean their benches；
And with sharper nails remembers
When they rake not up their embers：
But if so they chance to feast her；
In a shoe she drops a tester。
This is she that empties cradles；
Takes out children； puts in ladles：
Trains forth old wives in their slumber
With a sieve the holes to number；
And then leads them from her burrows；
Home through ponds and water…furrows。
She can start our Franklins' daughters；
In their sleep； with shrieks and laughters：
And on sweet Saint Anna's night
Feed them with a promised sight；
Some of husbands； some of lovers；
Which an empty dream discovers。
Ben Jonson ＇1573？…1637＇
THE ELF AND THE DORMOUSE
Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf；
Out of the rain； to shelter himself。
Under the toadstool sound asleep；
Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap。
Trembled the wee Elf； frightened； and yet
Fearing to fly away lest he get wet。
To the next shelter … maybe a mile！
Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile；
Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two。
Holding it over him； gayly he flew。
Soon he was safe home； dry as could be。
Soon woke the Dormouse … 〃Good gracious me！
〃Where is my toadstool？〃 loud he lamented。
… And that's how umbrellas first were invented。
Oliver Herford ＇1863…1935＇
〃OH！ WHERE DO FAIRIES HIDE THEIR HEADS？〃
Oh！ where do fairies hide their heads；
When snow lies on the hills；
When frost has spoiled their mossy beds；
And crystallized their rills？
Beneath the moon they cannot trip
In circles o'er the plain；
And draughts of dew they cannot sip；
Till green leaves come again。
Perhaps； in small； blue diving…bells
They plunge beneath the waves；
Inhabiting the wreathed shells
That lie in coral caves。
Perhaps； in red Vesuvius
Carousals they maintain；
And cheer their little spirits thus；
Till green leaves come again。
When they return； there will be mirth
And music in the air。
And fairy wings upon the earth；
And mischief everywhere。
The maids； to keep the elves aloof；
Will bar the doors in vain；
No key…hole will he fairy…proof
When green leaves come again。
Thomas Haynes Bayly ＇1797…1839＇
FAIRY SONG
