the poet at the breakfast table-第33节

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And　steal　a　moment's　freedom　from　the　beak；
The　clinging　talons　and　the　shadowing　plumes；
Then　comes　the　false　enchantress；　with　her　song；
〃Thou　wouldst　not　lay　thy　forehead　in　the　dust
Like　the　base　herd　that　feeds　and　breeds　and　dies！
Lo；　the　fair　garlands　that　I　weave　for　thee；
Unchanging　as　the　belt　Orion　wears；
Bright　as　the　jewels　of　the　seven…starred　Crown；
The　spangled　stream　of　Berenice's　hair！〃
And　so　she　twines　the　fetters　with　the　flowers
Around　my　yielding　limbs；　and　the　fierce　bird
Stoops　to　his　quarry；then　to　feed　his　rage
Of　ravening　hunger　I　must　drain　my　blood
And　let　the　dew…drenched；　poison…breeding　night
Steal　all　the　freshness　from　my　fading　cheek；
And　leave　its　shadows　round　my　caverned　eyes。
All　for　a　line　in　some　unheeded　scroll；
All　for　a　stone　that　tells　to　gaping　clowns；
〃Here　lies　a　restless　wretch　beneath　a　clod
Where　squats　the　jealous　nightmare　men　call　Fame！〃

I　marvel　not　at　him　who　scorns　his　kind
And　thinks　not　sadly　of　the　time　foretold
When　the　old　hulk　we　tread　shall　be　a　wreck；
A　slag；　a　cinder　drifting　through　the　sky
Without　its　crew　of　fools！　　We　live　too　long
And　even　so　are　not　content　to　die；
But　load　the　mould　that　covers　up　our　bones
With　stones　that　stand　like　beggars　by　the　road
And　show　death's　grievous　wound　and　ask　for　tears；
Write　our　great　books　to　teach　men　who　we　are；
Sing　our　fine　songs　that　tell　in　artful　phrase
The　secrets　of　our　lives；　and　plead　and　pray
For　alms　of　memory　with　the　after　time；
Those　few　swift　seasons　while　the　earth　shall　wear
Its　leafy　summers；　ere　its　core　grows　cold
And　the　moist　life　of　all　that　breathes　shall　die；
Or　as　the　new…born　seer；　perchance　more　wise；
Would　have　us　deem；　before　its　growing　mass；
Pelted　with　stardust；　atoned　with　meteor…balls；
Heats　like　a　hammered　anvil；　till　at　last　Man
and　his　works　and　all　that　stirred　itself
Of　its　own　motion；　in　the　fiery　glow
Turns　to　a　flaming　vapor；　and　our　orb
Shines　a　new　sun　for　earths　that　shall　be　born。

I　am　as　old　as　Egypt　to　myself；
Brother　to　them　that　squared　the　pyramids
By　the　same　stars　I　watch。　　I　read　the　page
Where　every　letter　is　a　glittering　world；
With　them　who　looked　from　Shinar's　clay…built　towers；
Ere　yet　the　wanderer　of　the　Midland　sea
Had　missed　the　fallen　sister　of　the　seven。
I　dwell　in　spaces　vague；　remote；　unknown；
Save　to　the　silent　few；　who；　leaving　earth；
Quit　all　communion　with　their　living　time。
I　lose　myself　in　that　ethereal　void；
Till　I　have　tired　my　wings　and　long　to　fill
My　breast　with　denser　air；　to　stand；　to　walk
With　eyes　not　raised　above　my　fellow…men。
Sick　of　my　unwalled；　solitary　realm；
I　ask　to　change　the　myriad　lifeless　worlds
I　visit　as　mine　own　for　one　poor　patch
Of　this　dull　spheroid　and　a　little　breath
To　shape　in　word　or　deed　to　serve　my　kind。

Was　ever　giant's　dungeon　dug　so　deep；
Was　ever　tyrant's　fetter　forged　so　strong；
Was　e'er　such　deadly　poison　in　the　draught
The　false　wife　mingles　for　the　trusting　fool；
As　he　whose　willing　victim　is　himself；
Digs；　forges；　mingles；　for　his　captive　soul？




VII

I　was　very　sure　that　the　old　Master　was　hard　at　work　about
something；he　is　always　very　busy　with　something；but　I　mean
something　particular。

Whether　it　was　a　question　of　history　or　of　cosmogony；　or　whether　he
was　handling　a　test…tube　or　a　blow…pipe；　what　he　was　about　I　did　not
feel　sure；　but　I　took　it　for　granted　that　it　was　some　crucial
question　or　other　he　was　at　work　on；　some　point　bearing　on　the
thought　of　the　time。　　For　the　Master；　I　have　observed；　is　pretty
sagacious　in　striking　for　the　points　where　his　work　will　be　like　to
tell。　　We　all　know　that　class　of　scientific　laborers　to　whom　all
facts　are　alike　nourishing　mental　food；　and　who　seem　to　exercise　no
choice　whatever；　provided　only　they　can　get　hold　of　these　same
indiscriminate　facts　in　quantity　sufficient。　　They　browse　on　them；　as
the　animal　to　which　they　would　not　like　to　be　compared　browses　on　his
thistles。　　But　the　Master　knows　the　movement　of　the　age　he　belongs
to；　and　if　he　seems　to　be　busy　with　what　looks　like　a　small　piece　of
trivial　experimenting；　one　may　feel　pretty　sure　that　he　knows　what　he
is　about；　and　that　his　minute　operations　are　looking　to　a　result　that
will　help　him　towards　attaining　his　great　end　in　life；an　insight；
so　far　as　his　faculties　and　opportunities　will　allow；　into　that　order
of　things　which　he　believes　he　can　study　with　some　prospect　of　taking
in　its　significance。

I　became　so　anxious　to　know　what　particular　matter　he　was　busy　with；
that　I　had　to　call　upon　him　to　satisfy　my　curiosity。　　It　was　with　a
little　trepidation　that　I　knocked　at　his　door。　　I　felt　a　good　deal　as
one　might　have　felt　on　disturbing　an　alchemist　at　his　work；　at　the
very　moment；　it　might　be；　when　he　was　about　to　make　projection。

Come　in！　said　the　Master　in　his　grave；　massive　tones。

I　passed　through　the　library　with　him　into　a　little　room　evidently
devoted　to　his　experiments。

You　have　come　just　at　the　right　moment；he　said。　Your　eyes　are
better　than　mine。　　I　have　been　looking　at　this　flask；　and　I　should
like　to　have　you　look　at　it。

It　was　a　small　matrass；　as　one　of　the　elder　chemists　would　have
called　it；　containing　a　fluid；　and　hermetically　sealed。　　He　held　it
up　at　the　window；　perhaps　you　remember　the　physician　holding　a　flask
to　the　light　in　Gerard　Douw's　〃Femme　hydropique〃；　I　thought　of　that
fine　figure　as　I　looked　at　him。　　Look！　said　he；is　it　clear　or
cloudy？

You　need　not　ask　me　that；I　answered。　　It　is　very　plainly　turbid。
I　should　think　that　some　sediment　had　been　shaken　up　in　it。　　What　is
it；　Elixir　Vitae　or　Aurum　potabile？

Something　that　means　more　than　alchemy　ever　did！　　Boiled　just　three
hours；　and　as　clear　as　a　bell　until　within　the　last　few　days；　since
then　has　been　clouding　up。

I　began　to　form　a　pretty　shrewd　guess　at　the　meaning　of　all　this；
and　to　think　I　knew　very　nearly　what　was　coming　next。　　I　was　right　in
my　conjecture。　　The　Master　broke　off　the　sealed　end　of　his　little
flask；　took　out　a　small　portion　of　the　fluid　on　a　glass　rod；　and
placed　it　on　a　slip　of　glass　in　the　usual　way　for　a　microscopic
examination。

One　thousand　diameters；he　said；　as　he　placed　it　on　the　stage　of
the　microscope。…We　shall　find　signs　of　life；　of　course。　He　bent
over　the　instrument　and　looked　but　an　instant。

There　they　are！he　exclaimed；look　in。

I　looked　in　and　saw　some　objects：

The　straight　linear　bodies　were　darting　backward　and　forward　in　every
direction。　　The　wavy　ones　were　wriggling　about　like　eels　or　water…
snakes。　　The　round　ones　were　spinning　on　their　axes　and　rolling　in
every　direction。　　All　of　them　were　in　a　state　of　incessant　activity；
as　if　perpetually　seeking　something　and　never　finding　it。

They　are　tough；　the　germs　of　these　little　bodies；　said　the　Master。…
Three　hours'　boiling　has　n't　killed　'em。　　Now；　then；　let　us　see　what
has　been　the　effect　of　six　hours'　boiling。

He　took　up　another　flask　just　like　the　first；　containing　fluid　and
hermetically　sealed　in　the　same　way。

Boiled　just　three　hours　longer　than　the　other；　he　said；six　hours
in　all。　　This　is　the　experimentum　crucis。　　Do　you　see　any　cloudiness
in　it？

Not　a　sign　of　it；　it　is　as　clear　as　crystal；　except　that　there　may
be　a　little　sediment　at　the　bottom。

That　is　nothing。　　The　liquid　is　clear。　　We　shall　find　no　signs　of
life。…He　put　a　minute　drop　of　the　liquid　under　the　microscope　as
before。　　Nothing　stirred。　　Nothing　to　be　seen　but　a　clear　circle　of
light。　　We　looked　at　it　again　and　again；　but　with　the　same　result。

Six　hours　kill　'em　all；　according　to　this　experiment；said　the
Master。…Good　as　far　as　it　goes。　　One　more　negative　result。　　Do　you
know　what　would　have　happened　if　that　liquid　had　been　clouded；　and　we
had　found　life　in　the　sealed　flask？　　Sir；　if　that　liquid　had　held
life　in　it　the　Vatican　would　have　trembled　to　hear　it；　and　there
would　have　been　anxious　questionings　and　ominous　whisperings　in　the
halls　of　Lambeth　palace！　　The　accepted　cosmogonies　on　trial；　sir！

Traditions；　sanctities；　creeds；　ecclesiastical　establishments；　all
shaking　to　know　whether　my　little　sixpenny　flask　of　fluid　looks　muddy
or　not！　　I　don't　know　whether　to　laugh　or　shudder。　　The　thought　of　an
oecumenical　council　having　its　leading　feature　dislocated　by　my
trifling　experiment！　　The　thought；　again；　of　the　mighty　revolution　in
human　beliefs　and　affairs　that　might　grow　out　of　the　same
insignificant　little　phenomenon。　　A　wine…glassful　of　clear　liquid
growing　muddy。　　If　we　had　found　a　wriggle；　or　a　zigzag；　or　a　shoot
from　one　side　to　the　other；　in　this　last　flask；　what　a　scare　there
would　have　been；　to　be　sure；　in　the　schools　of　the　prophets！　　Talk
about　your　megatherium　and　your　megalosaurus；what　are　these　to　the
bacterium　and　the　vibrio？　　These　are　the　dreadful　monsters　of　today。
If　they　show　themselves　where　they　have　no　business；　the　little
rascals　frighten　honest　folks　worse　than　ever　people　were　frightened
by　the　Dragon　of　Rhodes！

The　Master　gets　going　sometimes；　there　is　no　denying　it；　until　his
imagination　runs　away　with　him。　　He　had　been　trying；　as　the　reader
sees；　one　of　those　curious　experiments　in　spontaneous　generation；　as
it　is　called；　which　have　be