提纲英文John Keats之 希腊古瓮颂 英汉 及 赏析

2021年1月26日发(作者：和平相处)
Ode on a Grecian Urn


Thou still unravish’d bride of
quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and
slow time,

Sylvan historian, who canst thus
express


A flowery tale more sweetly than
our rhyme:

What leaf-
fring’d legend haunts
about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In
Tempe or
the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these?
What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What
struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What
wild ecstasy?


Heard melodies are sweet, but
those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft
pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more
endear’d,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no
tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees,
thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those
trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst
thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal -
yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou
hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she
be fair!


Ah, happy, happy boughs! that
cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the
Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

For ever piping songs for ever
new;

More happy love! more happy,
happy love!

For ever warm and still to be
enjoy’d,

For ever panting, and for ever
young;

All breathing human passion far
above,

That leaves a heart
high-sorrowful and
cloy’d,

A burning forehead, and a
parching tongue.


Who are these coming to the
sacrifice?

To what green altar, O
mysterious priest,

Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at
the skies,

And all her silken flanks with
garlands drest?

What little town by river or sea
shore,

Or mountain-built with peaceful
citadel,

Is emptied of this folk, this pious
morn?

And, little town, thy streets for
evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to
tell

Why thou art desolate, can e’er
return.


O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with
brede

Of marble men and maidens