名人诗歌|Song of the Lotos-Eaters

THERE is sweet music here that softer falls

Than petals^{1 from blown roses on the grass}

Or night-dews on still waters between walls

Of shadowy granite^{2 in a gleaming pass；}

Music that gentlier on the spirit lies

Than tired eyelids^{3 upon tired eyes；}

Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.

Here are cool mosses^{5 deep}

And thro' the moss^{4 the ivies6 creep}

And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep

And from the craggy ledge^{7 the poppy hangs in sleep.}

Why are we weigh'd upon with heaviness

And utterly^{8 consumed with sharp distress9}

While all things else have rest from weariness？

All things have rest： why should we toil^{10 alone}

We only toil who are the first of things

And make perpetual moan

Still from one sorrow to another thrown：

Nor ever fold our wings

And cease from wanderings

Nor steep our brows in slumber^{12's holy balm；}

Nor harken what the inner spirit sings

'There is no joy but calm！'

Why should we only toil the roof and crown of things？

Lo！ in the middle of the wood

The folded leaf is woo'd from out the bud

With winds upon the branch and there

Grows green and broad and takes no care

Sun-steep'd at noon and in the moon

Nightly dew-fed； and turning blue

Falls and floats adown the air.

Lo！ sweeten'd with the summer light

The full-juiced apple waxing over-mellow

Drops in a silent autumn night.

All its allotted^{14 length of days}

The flower ripens^{16 in its place}

Ripens and fades and falls and hath no toil

Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.

Hateful is the dark-blue sky

Vaulted^{17 o'er the dark-blue sea.}

Death is the end of life； ah why

Should life all labour be？

Let us alone. Time driveth onward^{18 fast}

And in a little while our lips are dumb.

Let us alone. What is it that will last？

All things are taken from us and become

Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.

Let us alone. What pleasure can we have

To war with evil？ Is there any peace

In ever climbing up the climbing wave？

All things have rest and ripen^{15 toward the grave}

In silence； ripen fall and cease：

Give us long rest or death dark death or dreamful ease.

How sweet it were hearing the downward stream

With half-shut eyes ever to seem

Falling asleep in a half-dream！

To dream and dream like yonder amber^{19 light}

Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height；

To hear each other's whisper'd speech；

Eating the Lotos day by day

To watch the crisping ripples^{20 on the beach}

And tender curving lines of creamy spray；

To lend our hearts and spirits wholly

To the influence of mild-minded melancholy^21；

To muse^{22 and brood and live again in memory}

With those old faces of our infancy²³

Heap'd over with a mound^{24 of grass}

Two handfuls of #CCCCFF dust shut in an urn^{13 of brass25！}

Dear is the memory of our wedded^{26 lives}

And dear the last embraces of our wives

And their warm tears： but all hath suffer'd change；

For surely now our household hearts are cold：

Our sons inherit us： our looks are strange：

And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.

Or else the island princes over-bold

Have eat our substance and the minstrel sings

Before them of the ten years' war in Troy

And our great deeds as half-forgotten things.

Is there confusion in the little isle^27？

Let what is broken so remain.

The Gods are hard to reconcile：

'Tis hard to settle order once again.

There is confusion worse than death

Trouble on trouble pain on pain

Long labour unto agd breath

Sore task to hearts worn out with many wars

And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.

But propt on beds of amaranth and moly

How sweet （while warm airs lull^{28 us blowing lowly）}

With half-dropt eyelids still

Beneath a heaven dark and holy

To watch the long bright river drawing slowly

His waters from the purple hill

To hear the dewy echoes calling

From cave to cave thro' the thick-twind vine

To watch the emerald-colour'd water falling

Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath pine！

only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine

only to hear were sweet stretch'd out beneath the pine.

The Lotos blooms below the barren peak：

The Lotos blows by every winding^{29 creek30：}

All day the wind breathes low with mellower^{31 tone：}

Thro' every hollow cave and alley^{32 lone11}

Round and round the spicy^{33 downs the blue Lotos-dust is blown.}

We have had enough of action and of motion we

Roll'd to starboard roll'd to larboard when the surge was seething^{35 free}

Where the wallowing monster spouted^{36 his foam-fountains in the sea.}

Let us swear an oath and keep it with an equal mind

In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie relined

On the hills like Gods together careless of mankind.

For they lie beside their nectar and the bolts are hurl'd

Far below them in the valleys and the clouds are lightly curl'd

Round their golden houses girdled with the gleaming world：

Where the smile in secret looking over wasted lands

Blight^{37 and famine plague and earthquake roaring deeps and fiery38 sands}

Clanging fights and flaming towns and sinking ships and praying hands.

But they smile they find a music centred in a doleful song

Steaming up a lamentation^{39 and an ancient tale of wrong}

Like a tale of little meaning tho' the words are strong；

Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave^{40 the soil}

Sow the seed and reap the harvest with enduring toil

Storing yearly little dues of wheat and wine and oil；

Till they perish and they suffersome 'tis whisper'ddown in hell

Suffer endless anguish^{41 others in Elysian valleys dwell}

Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.

Surely surely slumber is more sweet than toil the shore

Than labour in the deep mid-ocean wind and wave and oar^34；

O rest ye brother mariners^{42 we will not wander more.}