the miscellaneous writings and speeches-3-第37节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


h　your　Bayleys；　and　your　Bests；　Your　Giffords；　and　your　Gurneys：　We'll　clear　the　island　of　the　pests；　Which　mortals　name　attorneys。　Down　with　your　sheriffs；　and　your　mayors；　Your　registrars；　and　proctors；　We'll　live　without　the　lawyer's　cares；　And　die　without　the　doctor's。　No　discontented　fair　shall　pout　To　see　her　spouse　so　stupid；　We'll　tread　the　torch　of　Hymen　out；　And　live　content　with　Cupid。　Then；　when　the　high…born　and　the　great　Are　humbled　to　our　level；　On　all　the　wealth　of　Church　and　State；　Like　aldermen；　we'll　revel。　We'll　live　when　hushed　the　battle's　din；　In　smoking　and　in　cards；　sir；　In　drinking　unexcised　gin；　And　wooing　fair　Poissardes；　sir。　。。。

THE　BATTLE　OF　MONCONTOUR。　（1824。）　Oh；　weep　for　Moncontour！　　Oh！　weep　for　the　hour；　When　the　children　of　darkness　and　evil　had　power；　When　the　horsemen　of　Valois　triumphantly　trod　On　the　bosoms　that　bled　for　their　rights　and　their　God。　Oh；　weep　for　Moncontour！　　Oh！　weep　for　the　slain；　Who　for　faith　and　for　freedom　lay　slaughtered　in　vain；　Oh；　weep　for　the　living；　who　linger　to　bear　The　renegade's　shame；　or　the　exile's　despair。　One　look；　one　last　look；　to　our　cots　and　our　towers；　To　the　rows　of　our　vines；　and　the　beds　of　our　flowers；　To　the　church　where　the　bones　of　our　fathers　decayed；　Where　we　fondly　had　deemed　that　our　own　would　be　laid。　Alas！　we　must　leave　thee；　dear　desolate　home；　To　the　spearmen　of　Uri；　the　shavelings　of　Rome；　To　the　serpent　of　Florence；　the　vulture　of　Spain；　To　the　pride　of　Anjou；　and　the　guile　of　Lorraine。　Farewell　to　thy　fountains；　farewell　to　thy　shades；　To　the　song　of　thy　youths；　and　the　dance　of　thy　maids；　To　the　breath　of　thy　gardens；　the　hum　of　thy　bees；　And　the　long　waving　line　of　the　blue　Pyrenees。　Farewell；　and　for　ever。　　The　priest　and　the　slave　May　rule　in　the　halls　of　the　free　and　the　brave。　Our　hearths　we　abandon；　our　lands　we　resign；　But；　Father；　we　kneel　to　no　altar　but　thine。　。。。

THE　BATTLE　OF　NASEBY；　BY　OBADIAH　BIND…THEIR…KINGS…IN…CHAINS…AND…THEIR…NOBLES…WITH…　LINKS…OF…IRON；　SERJEANT　IN　IRETON'S　REGIMENT。　　（1824。）　Oh！　wherefore　come　ye　forth；　in　triumph　from　the　North；　With　your　hands；　and　your　feet；　and　your　raiment　all　red？　And　wherefore　doth　your　rout　send　forth　a　joyous　shout？　And　whence　be　the　grapes　of　the　wine…press　which　ye　tread？　Oh　evil　was　the　root；　and　bitter　was　the　fruit；　And　crimson　was　the　juice　of　the　vintage　that　we　trod；　For　we　trampled　on　the　throng　of　the　haughty　and　the　strong；　Who　sate　in　the　high　places；　and　slew　the　saints　of　God。　It　was　about　the　noon　of　a　glorious　day　of　June；　That　we　saw　their　banners　dance；　and　their　cuirasses　shine；　And　the　Man　of　Blood　was　there；　with　his　long　essenced　hair；　And　Astley；　and　Sir　Marmaduke；　and　Rupert　of　the　Rhine。　Like　a　servant　of　the　Lord；　with　his　Bible　and　his　sword；　The　General　rode　along　us　to　form　us　to　the　fight；　When　a　murmuring　sound　broke　out；　and　swell'd　into　a　shout；　Among　the　godless　horsemen　upon　the　tyrant's　right。　And　hark！　like　the　roar　of　the　billows　on　the　shore；　The　cry　of　battle　rises　along　their　charging　line！　For　God！　for　the　Cause！　for　the　Church！　for　the　Laws！　For　Charles　King　of　England　and　Rupert　of　the　Rhine！　The　furious　German　comes；　with　his　clarions　and　his　drums；　His　bravoes　of　Alsatia；　and　pages　of　Whitehall；　They　are　bursting　on　our　flanks。　　Grasp　your　pikes；　close　your　ranks；　For　Rupert　never　comes　but　to　conquer　or　to　fall。　They　are　here！　　They　rush　on！　　We　are　broken！　　We　are　gone！　Our　left　is　borne　before　them　like　stubble　on　the　blast。　O　Lord；　put　forth　thy　might！　　O　Lord；　defend　the　right！　Stand　back　to　back；　in　God's　name；　and　fight　it　to　the　last。　Stout　Skippon　hath　a　wound；　the　centre　hath　given　ground：　Hark！　hark！What　means　the　trampling　of　horsemen　on　our　rear？　Whose　banner　do　I　see；　boys？　　'Tis　he；　thank　God；　'tis　he；　boys；　Bear　up　another　minute：　　brave　Oliver　is　here。　Their　heads　all　stooping　low；　their　points　all　in　a　row；　Like　a　whirlwind　on　the　trees；　like　a　deluge　on　the　dykes；　Our　cuirassiers　have　burst　on　the　ranks　of　the　Accurst；　And　at　a　shock　have　scattered　the　forest　of　his　pikes。　Fast；　fast；　the　gallants　ride；　in　some　safe　nook　to　hide　Their　coward　heads；　predestined　to　rot　on　Temple　Bar；　And　hehe　turns；　he　flies：shame　on　those　cruel　eyes　That　bore　to　look　on　torture；　and　dare　not　look　on　war。　Ho！　comrades；　scour　the　plain；　and；　ere　ye　strip　the　slain；　First　give　another　stab　to　make　your　search　secure；　Then　shake　from　sleeves　and　pockets　their　broad…pieces　and　lockets；　The　tokens　of　the　wanton；　the　plunder　of　the　poor。　Fools！　your　doublets　shone　with　gold；　and　your　hearts　were　gay　and　bold；　When　you　kissed　your　lily　hands　to　your　lemans　to…day；　And　to…morrow　shall　the　fox；　from　her　chambers　in　the　rocks；　Lead　forth　her　tawny　cubs　to　howl　above　the　prey。　Where　be　your　tongues　that　late　mocked　at　heaven　and　hell　and　fate；　And　the　fingers　that　once　were　so　busy　with　your　blades；　Your　perfum'd　satin　clothes；　your　catches　and　your　oaths；　Your　stage…plays　and　your　sonnets；　your　diamonds　and　your　spades？　Down；　down；　for　ever　down　with　the　mitre　and　the　crown；　With　the　Belial　of　the　Court　and　the　Mammon　of　the　Pope；　There　is　woe　in　Oxford　halls：　　there　is　wail　in　Durham's　Stalls：　The　Jesuit　smites　his　bosom：　　the　Bishop　rends　his　cope。　And　She　of　the　seven　hills　shall　mourn　her　children's　ills；　And　tremble　when　she　thinks　on　the　edge　of　England's　sword；　And　the　Kings　of　earth　in　fear　shall　shudder　when　they　hear　What　the　hand　of　God　hath　wrought　for　the　Houses　and　the　Word。　。。。

SERMON　IN　A　CHURCHYARD。　（1825。）　Let　pious　Damon　take　his　seat；　With　mincing　step　and　languid　smile；　And　scatter　from　his　'kerchief　sweet；　Sabaean　odours　o'er　the　aisle；　And　spread　his　little　jewelled　hand；　And　smile　round　all　the　parish　beauties；　And　pat　his　curls；　and　smooth　his　band；　Meet　prelude　to　his　saintly　duties。　Let　the　thronged　audience　press　and　stare；　Let　stifled　maidens　ply　the　fan；　Admire　his　doctrines；　and　his　hair；　And　whisper；　〃What　a　good　young　man！〃　While　he　explains　what　seems　most　clear；　So　clearly　that　it　seems　perplexed；　I'll　stay　and　read　my　sermon　here；　And　skulls；　and　bones；　shall　be　the　text。　Art　thou　the　jilted　dupe　of　fame？　Dost　thou　with　jealous　anger　pine　Whene'er　she　sounds　some　other　name；　With　fonder　emphasis　than　thine？　To　thee　I　preach；　draw　near；　attend！　Look　on　these　bones；　thou　fool；　and　see　Where　all　her　scorns　and　favours　end；　What　Byron　is；　and　thou　must　be。　Dost　thou　revere；　or　praise；　or　trust　Some　clod　like　those　that　here　we　spurn；　Some　thing　that　sprang　like　thee　from　dust；　And　shall　like　thee　to　dust　return？　Dost　thou　rate　statesmen；　heroes；　wits；　At　one　sear　leaf；　or　wandering　feather？　Behold　the　black；　damp　narrow　pits；　Where　they　and　thou　must　lie　together。　Dost　thou　beneath　the　smile　or　frown　Of　some　vain　woman　bend　thy　knee？　Here　take　thy　stand；　and　trample　down　Things　that　were　once　as　fair　as　she。　Here　rave　of　her　ten　thousand　graces；　Bosom；　and　lip；　and　eye；　and　chin；　While；　as　in　scorn；　the　fleshless　faces　Of　Hamiltons　and　Waldegraves　grin。　Whate'er　thy　losses　or　thy　gains；　Whate'er　thy　projects　or　thy　fears；　Whate'er　the　joys；　whate'er　the　pains；　That　prompt　thy　baby　smiles　and　tears；　Come　to　my　school；　and　thou　shalt　learn；　In　one　short　hour　of　placid　thought；　A　stoicism；　more　deep；　more　stern；　Than　ever　Zeno's　porch　hath　taught。　The　plots　and　feats　of　those　that　press　To　seize　on　titles；　wealth；　or　power；　Shall　seem　to　thee　a　game　of　chess；　Devised　to　pass　a　tedious　hour。　What　matters　it　to　him　who　fights　For　shows　of　unsubstantial　good；　Whether　his　Kings；　and　Queens；　and　Knights；　Be　things　of　flesh；　or　things　of　wood？　We　check；　and　take；　exult；　and　fret；　Our　plans　extend；　our　passions　rise；　Till　in　our　ardour　we　forget　How　worthless　is　the　victor's　prize。　Soon　fades　the　spell；　soon　comes　the　night：　Say　will　it　not　be　then　the　same；　Whether　we　played　the　black　or　white；　Whether　we　lost　or　won　the　game？　Dost　thou　among　these　hillocks　stray；　O'er　some　dear　idol's　tomb　to　moan？　Know　that　thy　foot　is　on　the　clay　Of　hearts　once　wretched　as　thy　own。　How　many　a　father's　anxious　schemes；　How　many　rapturous　thoughts　of　lovers；　How　many　a　mother's　cherished　dreams；　The　swelling　turf　before　thee　covers！　Here　for　the　living；　and　the　dead；　The　weepers　and　the　friends　they　weep；　Hath　been　ordained　the　same　cold　bed；　The　same　dark　night；　the　same　long　sleep；　Why　shouldest　thou　writhe；　and　sob；　and　rave　O'er　those　with　whom　thou　soon　must　be？　Death　his　own　sting　shall　curethe　grave　Shall　vanquish　its　own　victory。　Here　learn　that　all　the　griefs　and　joys；　Which　now　torment；　which　now　beguile；　Are　children's　hurts；　and　children's　toys；　Scarce　worthy　of　one　bitter　smile。　Here　learn　that　pulpit；　throne；　and　press；　Sword；　sceptre；　lyre；　alike　are　frail；　That　science　is　a　blind　man's　guess；　And　History　a　nurse's　tale。　Here　learn　that　glory　and　disgrace；　Wisdom　and　folly；　pass　away；　That　mirth　hath　its　appointed　space；　That　sorrow　is　but　for　a　day；　That　all　we　love；　and　all　we　hate；　That　all　we　hope；　and　all　we　fear；　Each　mood　of　mind；　each　turn　of　fate；　Must　end　in　dust　and　silence　here。　。。。

TRANSLATION　FROM　A。V。　ARNAULT。　〃Fables〃：　　Livre　v。　〃Fable〃　16。　（1826。）　Thou　poor　leaf；　so　sear　and　frail；　Sport　of　every　wanton　gale；　Whence；　and　whither；　dost　thou　fly；　Through　this　bleak　autumnal　sky？　On　a　noble　oak　I　g