Tintern Abbey
Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey,on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour.July 13,1798
by William Wordsworth
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.
These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration:--feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on,--
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.
If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft--
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint,
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
The picture of the mind revives again:
While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years. And so I dare to hope,
Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,
Wherever nature led: more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads, than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days,
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all.--I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite; a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, nor any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.--That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur, other gifts
Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence. For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognise
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.
Nor perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former pleasures in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while
May I behold in thee what I was once,
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance--
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence--wilt thou then forget
That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together; and that I, so long
A worshipper of Nature, hither came
Unwearied in that service: rather say
With warmer love--oh! with far deeper zeal
Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
丁登寺
威廉·华兹华斯
五年过去了；五个夏天，还有
五个漫长的冬天！并且我重又听见
这些水声，从山泉中滚流出来，
在内陆的溪流中柔声低语。——我又一次
看到这些峻峭巍峨的山崖，
这一幕荒野的风景深深地留给
思想一个幽僻的印象；山水呀，
联结着天空的那一片宁静。
这一天到来，我重又在此休憩
在无花果树的浓荫之下，远眺
村舍密布的田野，簇生的果树园，
在这一个时令，果子呀尚未成熟，
披着一身葱绿，将自己掩没
在灌木丛和乔木林中。我又一次
看到树篱，或许那并非树篱，而是一行行
顽皮的树精在野跑：这些田园风光，
一直绿到家门；袅绕的炊烟
静静地升起在树林顶端！
它飘忽不定，仿佛是一些
漂泊者在无家的林中走动，
或许是有高人逸士的洞穴，孤独地
坐在火焰旁。
这些美好的形体
虽然已经久违，我并不曾遗忘，
不是像盲者面对眼前的美景：
然而，当我独居一室，置身于
城镇的喧嚣声，深感疲惫之时，
它们却带来了甜蜜的感觉，
渗入血液，渗入心脏，
甚至进入我最纯净的思想，
使我恢复恬静：——还有忘怀己久的
愉悦的感觉，那些个愉悦
或许对一个良善者最美好的岁月
有过远非轻微和平凡的影响，
那是一些早经遗忘的无名琐事，
却饱含着善意与友爱。不仅如此，
我凭借它们还得到另一种能力，
具有更崇高的形态，一种满足的惬意，
这整个神秘的重负，那不可理解的
世界令人厌倦的压力，顿然间
减轻；一种恬静而幸福的心绪，
听从着柔情引导我们前进，
直到我们的肉躯停止了呼吸，
甚至人类的血液也凝滞不动，
我们的身体进入安眠状态，
并且变成一个鲜活的灵魂，
这时，和谐的力量，欣悦而深沉的力量，
让我们的眼睛逐渐变得安宁，
我们能够看清事物内在的生命。
倘若这只是
一种虚妄的信念，可是，哦！如此频繁——
在黑暗中，在以各种面目出现的
乏味的白天里；当无益的烦闷
和世界的热病沉重地压迫着
心脏搏动的每一个节奏——
如此频繁，在精神上我转向你，
啊，绿叶葱茏的怀河！你在森林中漫游，
我如此频繁地在精神上转向你。
而如今，思想之幽光明灭不定地闪烁，
许多熟悉的东西黯淡而迷蒙，
还带着一丝怅惘的窘困，
心智的图像又一次重现；
我站立在此，不仅感到了
当下的愉悦，而且还欣慰地想到
未来岁月的生命与粮食正蕴藏
在眼前的片刻间。于是，我胆敢这样希望，
尽管我已不复当初，不再是新来乍到的
光景，即时我像这山上的一头小鹿，
在山峦间跳跃，在大江两岸
窜跑，在孤寂的小溪边逗留，
听凭大自然的引导：与其说像一个
在追求着所爱，倒莫如说正是
在躲避着所惧。因为那时的自然
（如今，童年时代粗鄙的乐趣，
和动物般的嬉戏已经消逝）
在我是一切的一切。——我那时的心境
难以描画。轰鸣着的瀑布
像一种激情萦绕我心；巨石，
高山，幽晦茂密的森林，
它们的颜色和形体，都曾经是
我的欲望，一种情愫，一份爱恋，
不需要用思想来赋予它们
深邃的魅力，也不需要
视觉以外的情趣。——那样的时光消逝，
一切掺合着苦痛的欢乐不复再现，
那令人晕眩的狂喜也已消失。我不再
为此沮丧，哀痛和怨诉；另一种能力
赋予了我，这一种损失呀，
已经得到了补偿，我深信不疑。
因为我已懂得如何看待大自然，再不似
少不更事的青年；而是经常听到
人生宁静而忧郁的乐曲，
优雅，悦耳，却富有净化
和克制的力量。我感觉到
有什么在以崇高的思想之喜悦
让我心动；一种升华的意念，
深深地融入某种东西，
仿佛正栖居于落日的余晖
浩瀚的海洋和清新的空气，
蔚蓝色的天空和人类的心灵：
一种动力，一种精神，推动着
思想的主体和思想的客体
穿过宇宙万物，不停地运行。所以，
我依然热爱草原，森林，和山峦；
一切这绿色大地能见的东西，
一切目睹耳闻的大千世界的
林林总总，——它们既有想象所造，
也有感觉所知。我欣喜地发现
在大自然和感觉的语言里，
隐藏着最纯洁的思想之铁锚，
心灵的护士、向导和警卫，以及
我整个精神生活的灵魂。
即便我并没有
受到过这样的教育，我也不会更多地
被这种温和的精神所腐蚀，
因为有你陪伴着我，并且站立
在美丽的河畔，你呀，我最亲爱的朋友，
亲爱的，亲爱的朋友；在你的嗓音里
我捕捉住从前心灵的语言，在你顾盼流转的
野性的眼睛里，我再一次重温了
往昔的快乐。啊！我愿再有一会儿
让我在你身上寻觅过去的那个我，
我亲爱的，亲爱的妹妹！我要为此祈祷，
我知道大自然从来没有背弃过
爱她的心灵；这是她特殊的恩典，
贯穿我们一生的岁月，从欢乐
引向欢乐；因为她能够赋予
我们深藏的心智以活力，留给
我们宁静而优美的印象，以崇高的
思想滋养我们，使得流言蜚语，
急躁的武断，自私者的冷讽热嘲，
缺乏同情的敷衍应付，以及
日常生活中全部枯燥的交往，
都不能让我们屈服，不能损害
我们欢快的信念，毫不怀疑
我们所见的一切充满幸福。因此，
让月光照耀着你进行孤独的漫游；
让迷蒙蒙的山风自由地
吹拂你：如此，在往后的岁月里，
当这些狂野的惊喜转化成
冷静的惬意，当你的心智
变成一座集纳众美的大厦，
你的记忆像一个栖居的家园招引着
一切甜美而和谐的乐音；啊！那时，
即令孤独，惊悸，痛苦，或哀伤成为
你的命运，你将依然怀着柔情的喜悦
顺着这些健康的思路追忆起我，
和我这一番劝勉之言！即便我远走他方，
再也听不见你可爱的声音，
再也不能在你野性的双眸中
看见我往昔生活的光亮——你也不会
忘记我俩在这妩媚的河畔
一度并肩站立；而我呀，一个
长期崇拜大自然的人，再度重临，
虔敬之心未减：莫如说怀着
一腔更热烈的爱情——啊！更淳厚的热情，
更神圣的爱慕。你更加不会忘记，
经过多年的浪迹天涯，漫长岁月的
分离，这些高耸的树林和陡峭的山崖，
这绿色的田园风光，更让我感到亲近，
这有它们自身的魅力，更有你的缘故。
（汪剑钊 译）
诗人简介威廉·华兹华斯简介
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