the three taverns-第9部分

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There　was　an　evanescent　faded　noise；

And　though　a　child；　I　knew　it　was　the　voice

Of　one　whose　occupation　was　to　die。









Discovery







We　told　of　him　as　one　who　should　have　soared

And　seen　for　us　the　devastating　light

Whereof　there　is　not　either　day　or　night；

And　shared　with　us　the　glamour　of　the　Word

That　fell　once　upon　Amos　to　record

For　men　at　ease　in　Zion；　when　the　sight

Of　ills　obscured　aggrieved　him　and　the　might

Of　Hamath　was　a　warning　of　the　Lord。



Assured　somehow　that　he　would　make　us　wise；

Our　pleasure　was　to　wait；　and　our　surprise

Was　hard　when　we　confessed　the　dry　return

Of　his　regret。　　For　we　were　still　to　learn

That　earth　has　not　a　school　where　we　may　go

For　wisdom；　or　for　more　than　we　may　know。









Firelight







Ten　years　together　without　yet　a　cloud；

They　seek　each　other's　eyes　at　intervals

Of　gratefulness　to　firelight　and　four　walls

For　love's　obliteration　of　the　crowd。

Serenely　and　perennially　endowed

And　bowered　as　few　may　be；　their　joy　recalls

No　snake；　no　sword；　and　over　them　there　falls

The　blessing　of　what　neither　says　aloud。



Wiser　for　silence；　they　were　not　so　glad

Were　she　to　read　the　graven　tale　of　lines

On　the　wan　face　of　one　somewhere　alone；

Nor　were　they　more　content　could　he　have　had

Her　thoughts　a　moment　since　of　one　who　shines

Apart；　and　would　be　hers　if　he　had　known。









The　New　Tenants







The　day　was　here　when　it　was　his　to　know

How　fared　the　barriers　he　had　built　between

His　triumph　and　his　enemies　unseen；

For　them　to　undermine　and　overthrow；

And　it　was　his　no　longer　to　forego

The　sight　of　them；　insidious　and　serene；

Where　they　were　delving　always　and　had　been

Left　always　to　be　vicious　and　to　grow。



And　there　were　the　new　tenants　who　had　come；

By　doors　that　were　left　open　unawares；

Into　his　house；　and　were　so　much　at　home

There　now　that　he　would　hardly　have　to　guess；

By　the　slow　guile　of　their　vindictiveness；

What　ultimate　insolence　would　soon　be　theirs。









Inferential







Although　I　saw　before　me　there　the　face

Of　one　whom　I　had　honored　among　men

The　least；　and　on　regarding　him　again

Would　not　have　had　him　in　another　place；

He　fitted　with　an　unfamiliar　grace

The　coffin　where　I　could　not　see　him　then

As　I　had　seen　him　and　appraised　him　when

I　deemed　him　unessential　to　the　race。



For　there　was　more　of　him　than　what　I　saw。

And　there　was　on　me　more　than　the　old　awe

That　is　the　common　genius　of　the　dead。

I　might　as　well　have　heard　him：　　〃Never　mind；

If　some　of　us　were　not　so　far　behind；

The　rest　of　us　were　not　so　far　ahead。〃









The　Rat







As　often　as　he　let　himself　be　seen

We　pitied　him；　or　scorned　him；　or　deplored

The　inscrutable　profusion　of　the　Lord

Who　shaped　as　one　of　us　a　thing　so　mean　

Who　made　him　human　when　he　might　have　been

A　rat；　and　so　been　wholly　in　accord

With　any　other　creature　we　abhorred

As　always　useless　and　not　always　clean。



Now　he　is　hiding　all　alone　somewhere；

And　in　a　final　hole　not　ready　then；

For　now　he　is　among　those　over　there

Who　are　not　coming　back　to　us　again。

And　we　who　do　the　fiction　of　our　share

Say　less　of　rats　and　rather　more　of　men。









Rahel　to　Varnhagen



　　Note。　　　Rahel　Robert　and　Varnhagen　von　Ense　were　married；

　　after　many　protestations　on　her　part；　in　1814。　　The　marriage　　so　far

　　as　he　was　concerned；　at　any　rate　　appears　to　have　been　satisfactory。







Now　you　have　read　them　all；　or　if　not　all；

As　many　as　in　all　conscience　I　should　fancy

To　be　enough。　　There　are　no　more　of　them　

Or　none　to　burn　your　sleep；　or　to　bring　dreams

Of　devils。　　If　these　are　not　sufficient；　surely

You　are　a　strange　young　man。　　I　might　live　on

Alone；　and　for　another　forty　years；

Or　not　quite　forty；　　are　you　happier　now？　

Always　to　ask　if　there　prevailed　elsewhere

Another　like　yourself　that　would　have　held

These　aged　hands　as　long　as　you　have　held　them；

Not　once　observing；　for　all　I　can　see；

How　they　are　like　your　mother's。　　Well；　you　have　read

His　letters　now；　and　you　have　heard　me　say

That　in　them　are　the　cinders　of　a　passion

That　was　my　life；　and　you　have　not　yet　broken

Your　way　out　of　my　house；　out　of　my　sight；　

Into　the　street。　　You　are　a　strange　young　man。

I　know　as　much　as　that　of　you；　for　certain；

And　I'm　already　praying；　for　your　sake；

That　you　be　not　too　strange。　　Too　much　of　that

May　lead　you　bye　and　bye　through　gloomy　lanes

To　a　sad　wilderness；　where　one　may　grope

Alone；　and　always；　or　until　he　feels

Ferocious　and　invisible　animals

That　wait　for　men　and　eat　them　in　the　dark。

Why　do　you　sit　there　on　the　floor　so　long；

Smiling　at　me　while　I　try　to　be　solemn？

Do　you　not　hear　it　said　for　your　salvation；

When　I　say　truth？　　Are　you；　at　four　and　twenty；

So　little　deceived　in　us　that　you　interpret

The　humor　of　a　woman　to　be　noticed

As　her　choice　between　you　and　Acheron？

Are　you　so　unscathed　yet　as　to　infer

That　if　a　woman　worries　when　a　man；

Or　a　man…child；　has　wet　shoes　on　his　feet

She　may　as　well　commemorate　with　ashes

The　last　eclipse　of　her　tranquillity？

If　you　look　up　at　me　and　blink　again；

I　shall　not　have　to　make　you　tell　me　lies

To　know　the　letters　you　have　not　been　reading。

I　see　now　that　I　may　have　had　for　nothing

A　most　unpleasant　shivering　in　my　conscience

When　I　laid　open　for　your　contemplation

The　wealth　of　my　worn　casket。　　If　I　did；

The　fault　was　not　yours　wholly。　　Search　again

This　wreckage　we　may　call　for　sport　a　face；

And　you　may　chance　upon　the　price　of　havoc

That　I　have　paid　for　a　few　sorry　stones

That　shine　and　have　no　light　　yet　once　were　stars；

And　sparkled　on　a　crown。　　Little　and　weak

They　seem；　and　they　are　cold；　I　fear；　for　you。

But　they　that　once　were　fire　for　me　may　not

Be　cold　again　for　me　until　I　die；

And　only　God　knows　if　they　may　be　then。

There　is　a　love　that　ceases　to　be　love

In　being　ourselves。　　How；　then；　are　we　to　lose　it？

You　that　are　sure　that　you　know　everything

There　is　to　know　of　love；　answer　me　that。

Well？　。　。　。　　You　are　not　even　interested。



Once　on　a　far　off　time　when　I　was　young；

I　felt　with　your　assurance；　and　all　through　me；

That　I　had　undergone　the　last　and　worst

Of　love's　inventions。　　There　was　a　boy　who　brought

The　sun　with　him　and　woke　me　up　with　it；

And　that　was　every　morning；　every　night

I　tried　to　dream　of　him；　but　never　could；

More　than　I　might　have　seen　in　Adam's　eyes

Their　fond　uncertainty　when　Eve　began

The　play　that　all　her　tireless　progeny

Are　not　yet　weary　of。　　One　scene　of　it

Was　brief；　but　was　eternal　while　it　lasted；

And　that　was　while　I　was　the　happiest

Of　an　imaginary　six　or　seven；

Somewhere　in　history　but　not　on　earth；

For　whom　the　sky　had　shaken　and　let　stars

Rain　down　like　diamonds。　　Then　there　were　clouds；

And　a　sad　end　of　diamonds；　whereupon

Despair　came；　like　a　blast　that　would　have　brought

Tears　to　the　eyes　of　all　the　bears　in　Finland；

And　love　was　done。　　That　was　how　much　I　knew。

Poor　little　wretch！　　I　wonder　where　he　is

This　afternoon。　　Out　of　this　rain；　I　hope。



At　last；　when　I　had　seen　so　many　days

Dressed　all　alike；　and　in　their　marching　order；

Go　by　me　that　I　would　not　always　count　them；

One　stopped　　shattering　the　whole　file　of　Time；

Or　so　it　seemed；　and　when　I　looked　again；

There　was　a　man。　　He　struck　once　with　his　eyes；

And　then　there　was　a　woman。　　I；　who　had　come

To　wisdom；　or　to　vision；　or　what　you　like；

By　the　old　hidden　road　that　has　no　name；　

I；　who　was　used　to　seeing　without　flying

So　much　that　others　fly　from　without　seeing；

Still　looked；　and　was　afraid；　and　looked　again。

And　after　that；　when　I　had　read　the　story

Told　in　his　eyes；　and　felt　within　my　heart

The　bleeding　wound　of　their　necessity；

I　knew　the　fear　was　his。　　If　I　had　failed　him

And　flown　away　from　him；　I　should　have　lost

Ingloriously　my　wings　in　scrambling　back；

And　found　them　arms　again。　　If　he　had　struck　me

Not　only　with　his　eyes　but　with　his　hands；

I　might　have　pitied　him　and　hated　love；

And　then　gone　mad。　　I；　who　have　been　so　strong　

Why　don't　you　laugh？　　might　even　have　done　all　that。

I；　who　have　learned　so　much；　and　said　so　much；

And　had　the　commendations　of　the　great

For　one　who　rules　herself　　why　don't　you　cry？　

And　own　a　certain　small　authority

Among　the　blind；　who　see　no　more　than　ever；

But　like　my　voice；　　I　would　have　tossed　it　all

To　Tophet　for　one　man；　and　he　was　jealous。

I　would　have　wound　a　snake　around　my　neck

And　then　have　let　it　bite　me　till　I　died；

If　my　so　doing　would　have　made　me　sure

That　one　man　might　have　lived；　and　he　was　jealous。

I　would　have　driven　these　hands　into　a　cage

That　held　a　thousand　scorpions；　and　crushed　them；

If　only　by　so　poisonous　a　trial

I　could　have　crushed　his　doubt。　　I　would　have　wrung

My　living　blood　with　mediaeval　engines

Out　of　my　screaming　flesh；　if　only　that

Would　have　made　one　man　sure。　　I　would　have　paid

For　him　the　tiresome　price　of　body　and　soul；

And　let　the　lash　of　a　tongue…weary　town

Fall　as　it　might　upon　my　blistered　name；

And　while　it　fell　I　could　have　laughed　at　it；

Knowing　that　he　had　found　out　finally

Where　the　wrong　was。　　But　there　was　evil　in　him

That　would　have　made　no　more　of　his　possession

Than　confirmation　of　another　fault；

And　there　was　honor　　if　you　call　it　honor

That　hoods　itself　with　doubt　and　wears　a　crown

Of　lead　that　might　as　well　be　gold　and　fire。

Give　it　as　heavy　or　as　light　a　name

As　any　there　is　that　fits。　　I　see　myself

Without　the　power　to　swear　to　this　or　that

That　I　might　be　if　he　had　been　without　it。

Whatever　I　might　have　been　that　I　was　not；

It　only　happened　that　it　wasn't　so。

Meanwhile；　you　might　seem　to　be　listening：

If　you　forget　yourself　and　go　to　sleep；

My　treasure；　I　shall　not　say　this　again。

Look　up　once　more　into　my　poor　old　face；

Where　you