the complete poetical works-第207节
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You have been revelling with your boon companions；
Giorgio Vasari； and you come to me
At an untimely hour。
GIORGIO。
The Pope hath sent me。
His Holiness desires to see again
The drawing you once showed him of the dome
Of the Basilica。
MICHAEL ANGELO。
We will look for it。
GIORGIO。
What is the marble group that glimmers there
Behind you？
MICHAEL ANGELO。
Nothing； and yet everything；
As one may take it。 It is my own tomb；
That I am building。
GIORGIO。
Do not hide it from me。
By our long friendship and the love I bear you；
Refuse me not！
MICHAEL ANGELO； letting fall the lamp。
Life hath become to me
An empty theatre；its lights extinguished；
The music silent； and the actors gone；
And I alone sit musing on the scenes
That once have been。 I am so old that Death
Oft plucks me by the cloak； to come with him
And some day； like this lamp； shall I fall down；
And my last spark of life will be extinguished。
Ah me！ ah me！ what darkness of despair！
So near to death； and yet so far from God！
*****
TRANSLATIONS
PRELUDE
As treasures that men seek；
Deep…buried in sea…sands；
Vanish if they but speak；
And elude their eager hands；
So ye escape and slip；
O songs； and fade away；
When the word is on my lip
To interpret what ye say。
Were it not better； then；
To let the treasures rest
Hid from the eyes of men；
Locked in their iron chest？
I have but marked the place；
But half the secret told；
That； following this slight trace；
Others may find the gold。
FROM THE SPANISH
COPLAS DE MANRIQUE。
O let the soul her slumbers break；
Let thought be quickened； and awake；
Awake to see
How soon this life is past and gone；
And death comes softly stealing on；
How silently！
Swiftly our pleasures glide away；
Our hearts recall the distant day
With many sighs；
The moments that are speeding fast
We heed not； but the past；the past；
More highly prize。
Onward its course the present keeps；
Onward the constant current sweeps；
Till life is done；
And； did we judge of time aright；
The past and future in their flight
Would be as one。
Let no one fondly dream again；
That Hope and all her shadowy train
Will not decay；
Fleeting as were the dreams of old；
Remembered like a tale that's told；
They pass away。
Our lives are rivers； gliding free
To that unfathomed； boundless sea；
The silent grave！
Thither all earthly pomp and boast
Roll； to be swallowed up and lost
In one dark wave。
Thither the mighty torrents stray；
Thither the brook pursues its way；
And tinkling rill；
There all are equal； side by side
The poor man and the son of pride
Lie calm and still。
I will not here invoke the throng
Of orators and sons of song；
The deathless few；
Fiction entices and deceives；
And； sprinkled o'er her fragrant leaves；
Lies poisonous dew。
To One alone my thoughts arise；
The Eternal Truth； the Good and Wise；
To Him I cry；
Who shared on earth our common lot；
But the world comprehended not
His deity。
This world is but the rugged road
Which leads us to the bright abode
Of peace above；
So let us choose that narrow way；
Which leads no traveller's foot astray
From realms of love；
Our cradle is the starting…place；
Life is the running of the race；
We reach the goal
When； in the mansions of the blest；
Death leaves to its eternal rest
The weary soul。
Did we but use it as we ought；
This world would school each wandering thought
To its high state。
Faith wings the soul beyond the sky；
Up to that better world on high；
For which we wait。
Yes； the glad messenger of love；
To guide us to our home above；
The Saviour came；
Born amid mortal cares and fears。
He suffered in this vale of tears
A death of shame。
Behold of what delusive worth
The bubbles we pursue on earth；
The shapes we chase；
Amid a world of treachery！
They vanish ere death shuts the eye；
And leave no trace。
Time steals them from us； chances strange；
Disastrous accident； and change；
That come to all；
Even in the most exalted state；
Relentless sweeps the stroke of fate；
The strongest fall。
Tell me； the charms that lovers seek
In the clear eye and blushing cheek；
The hues that play
O'er rosy lip and brow of snow；
When hoary age approaches slow；
Ah； where are they？
The cunning skill； the curious arts；
The glorious strength that youth imparts
In life's first stage；
These shall become a heavy weight；
When Time swings wide his outward gate
To weary age。
The noble blood of Gothic name；
Heroes emblazoned high to fame；
In long array；
How； in the onward course of time；
The landmarks of that race sublime
Were swept away！
Some； the degraded slaves of lust；
Prostrate and trampled in the dust；
Shall rise no more；
Others； by guilt and crime； maintain
The scutcheon； that without a stain；
Their fathers bore。
Wealth and the high estate of pride；
With what untimely speed they glide；
How soon depart！
Bid not the shadowy phantoms stay；
The vassals of a mistress they；
Of fickle heart。
These gifts in Fortune's hands are found；
Her swift revolving wheel turns round；
And they are gone！
No rest the inconstant goddess knows；
But changing； and without repose；
Still hurries on。
Even could the hand of avarice save
Its gilded baubles till the grave
Reclaimed its prey；
Let none on such poor hopes rely；
Life； like an empty dream； flits by；
And where are they？
Earthly desires and sensual lust
Are passions springing from the dust；
They fade and die；
But in the life beyond the tomb；
They seal the immortal spirits doom
Eternally！
The pleasures and delights； which mask
In treacherous smiles life's serious task；
What are they； all；
But the fleet coursers of the chase；
And death an ambush in the race；
Wherein we fall？
No foe； no dangerous pass； we heed；
Brook no delay； but onward speed
With loosened rein；
And； when the fatal snare is near；
We strive to check our mad career；
But strive in vain。
Could we new charms to age impart；
And fashion with a cunning art
The human face；
As we can clothe the soul with light；
And make the glorious spirit bright
With heavenly grace；
How busily each passing hour
Should we exert that magic power；
What ardor show；
To deck the sensual slave of sin；
Yet leave the freeborn soul within；
In weeds of woe！
Monarchs； the powerful and the strong；
Famous in history and in song
Of olden time；
Saw； by the stern decrees of fate；
Their kingdoms lost； and desolate
Their race sublime。
Who is the champion？ who the strong？
Pontiff and priest； and sceptred throng？
On these shall fall
As heavily the hand of Death；
As when it stays the shepherd's breath
Beside his stall。
I speak not of the Trojan name；
Neither its glory nor its shame
Has met our eyes；
Nor of Rome's great and glorious dead；
Though we have heard so oft； and read；
Their histories。
Little avails it now to know
Of ages passed so long ago；
Nor how they rolled；
Our theme shall be of yesterday；
Which to oblivion sweeps away；
Like day's of old。
Where is the King； Don Juan？ Where
Each royal prince and noble heir
Of Aragon ？
Where are the courtly gallantries？
The deeds of love and high emprise；
In battle done？
Tourney and joust； that charmed the eye；
And scarf； and gorgeous panoply；
And nodding plume；
What were they but a pageant scene？
What but the garlands； gay and green；
That deck the tomb？
Where are the high…born dames； and where
Their gay attire； and jewelled hair；
And odors sweet？
Where are the gentle knights； that came
To kneel； and breathe love's ardent flame；
Low at their feet？
Where is the song of Troubadour？
Where are the lute and gay tambour
They loved of yore？
Where is the mazy dance of old；
The flowing robes； inwrought with gold；
The dancers wore？
And he who next the sceptre swayed；
Henry； whose royal court displayed
Such power and pride；
O； in what winning smiles arrayed；
The world its various pleasures laid
His throne beside！
But O how false and full of guile
That world； which wore so soft a smile
But to betray！
She； that had been his friend before；
Now from the fated monarch tore
Her charms away。
The countless gifts； the stately walls；
The loyal palaces； and halls
All filled with gold；
Plate with armorial bearings wrought；
Chambers with ample treasures fraught
Of wealth untold；
The noble steeds； and harness bright；
And gallant lord； and stalwart knight；
In rich array；
Where shall we seek them now？ Alas！
Li
