长诗《生命的凯旋》

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之前的被过滤掉了，重新发一次。


生命的凯旋
（雪莱最后一首长诗，未完成）


敏捷，有如一个奔赴荣耀、至善
使命的精灵，太阳，披一身光华
兴冲冲地升起，面具一般的黑暗

便从觉醒了的大地上空悄悄落下——
山头积雪，那些不见烟篆的祭坛，
在绯红的云层之上吐焰，随着那

光明的诞生，大海洋的祈祷声喧，
鸟雀们应和着调试歌喉把晨曲啼鸣。
田野和林中所有的花朵睁开眼睑，

睁开颤动的眼睑承受白昼的亲吻，
把她们的香炉高擎在大气中晃动，
炉中的东方香料被新的光线引焚

像不竭的源泉缓慢燃烧着向天空，
向微笑的天空发送去芬芳的叹息；
于是，大地、岛屿、海洋和其中

一切具有有生特性和外貌的形体
都像他们的父亲太阳一样，如期
醒来，相继承担起他在远古世纪

曾经独自承担而后来被他分派给
他们各自一份的劳务：但是，我
曾由于必须秘而不宣的心头思虑；

像点缀夜空的星星一样彻夜醒着，
此刻他们都已躺下入睡，我却在
一支灰白桅杆下伸展疲惫的手脚
   
那桅杆曾是阿平宁一处绿色山隘
老橡树的树干：夜，已在我面前
逃遁；白昼，从我背后升了起来，
   
海，在我脚下；头上，一派蓝天，
这时，奇异的幻景随同连翩浮想  
出现，却不是睡梦，因为那一片

展开的阴影是如此透明，那景象  
从中通过就像暮色笼罩下的山峦  
隐约朦胧却清晰可辨；而我身上，  
   
我知道，还有过那黎明的清新感，
头发和额头曾沐浴同一清晨朝霞，
  曾像这样坐着，靠着同样的树干，

  坐在那块青草萋萋的山坡，仿佛
  听见那里的鸟儿门、海洋和流泉
  在借多情的风和音乐交换甜言蜜语，

  然后，一场幻景便在我脑海展现。

  当我在那奇妙思想的幻境中躺卧，
  这大致就是白日梦中所耳闻目睹。
  我觉得我是在一条大道近旁坐着，

  大路上落着厚厚一层夏季的尘土，
  仿佛是那朦胧暮色幽辉中的蚊阵，
  来来往往，川流不息的行人无数，

  全都急匆匆赶路，却显然没有人
  知道他来自何方，又向何处行进，
  或是何以成为这万众一员的原因，

  而置身人群之中，被裹带着同行，
  像夏季棺木上万千落叶中的一叶，
  老人和青年，大人和婴孩，形成

  一股混杂奔腾的汹涌洪流，有些，
  是在逃避使他们心生恐惧的事物，
  有些，却在刻意寻求他人之所惧，

另有一些，一步一步向坟墓走去，
却关心研究那被践踏的地下虫豸，
也有一些，在他们自己的阴影里

走得凄惨悲戚，把它称之为死；
有一些，逃避它仿佛是逃避鬼魅，
随时会由于喘息困难而昏倒在地；

但是更多的却以彼此交错的行为
追逐或是躲避开浮云投下的阴影
或是中午时分消失在空中的鸟类，

而沿着从不生长鲜花的路径前行：一
因干渴而衰竭，因徒然劳累而疲惫，
听不见来自那些绿苔漫生的山洞

永远流淌着美妙乐音的悦耳泉水；
感觉不出那从森林中吹来的清风
在叙述着绿色的小径和林中草地，

和点缀其间的参天榆树枝干如拱，
紫罗兰花盛开的河滨歇息着美梦，
只知照旧继续阴暗的蠢事和愚行。
正当我注目凝视，大道上的人群，
我以为是发了疯，像六月的森林
遭到正在摇撼着白日余晖的南风，

一道冷峻的目光，像冰雪一样冷，
比中午更亮，以使人失明的强光
淹没太阳，就像太阳光掩蔽星辰。

像一弯新月——当暴风雨从梦乡
积蓄力量，她那白色躯壳还战栗
在被夕阳照亮的黑夜红色边缘上——

仿佛是宣告它将来到，高高托起
它那亡母的鬼魂，那阴暗的形影
在黑暗中从她的婴儿车探身前倚——

于是一乘战车，凌驾它自己寂静
无声、汹涌奔腾的明辉来临，车中
坐着的形体仿佛被岁月折磨畸形，

戴着黑色头罩，披一袭双层斗篷，
在坟墓的暗影里蜷缩着，在似乎
该是头颅的位置上覆盖着的黑纱，

像一片云，一种晦暗、朦胧的雾，
使强光有所减弱。车辕上的驭夫
像雅努斯，他的面孔一共有四副

是他在驾驭插着神奇翅膀的一群；
而在连续的电光中挽曳战车的形体
己不见踪影：我只听见轻柔的风

传来他们不断振动的翅膀演奏出
音乐。驭夫所有四副面孔的眼目，
竟都被布带绑扎住；在前的快速，

在后的盲目，全都带不来什么好处，
连使太阳失色的强光也于事无补。
被绑扎住的眼睛的视力无法穿透过

正在做、已经做、即将做的全部；
战车的导引失常，却在继续前进，
庄严威武，速度和隆重礼仪相符。

那人群让开路，我惊恐地站起身，
或似乎起身，因为沉陷幻境太深；
仿佛是被烈风卷带着的纷乱浮云，

我看见成千上万狂歌乱舞的人们，
如痴如醉，恰似在举行狂欢大会，
以隆重迎接一位征服者胜利进军，

庄严的罗马从元老院，从剧场内，
从广场，倾泻出她有生命的洪流
当加给原本自由的那些①

以轭，他们都很快便俯首去承受，
这里也不乏与凯旋游行相似之处，
无论那乘战车行经何地，全都有

无数的俘虏被押着走：所有由于
执掌大权或受尽折磨而衰老的人，
所有把他们的大好年华全部交付

给工作或忍受的人，他们的青春
最后一刻都在欢快或痛苦中耗尽，
只有再不能开花结果的躯干犹存；

还有这种人，他们的恶名或荣名
与日俱增，直到伟大的寒冬把这
绿色世界的形与名同他们全部否定；

不在其内的是神圣的少数，只是
无法使精神屈从于征服者的一群，——
他们的生命之焰稍一接触这尘世

便像鹰立刻飞回他们的故居苍穹，
或者是，置人世间的权位于不顾．
视王冠与珍宝如粪土……”

雅典或者耶路撒冷的贤哲和圣徒
都不在数，既不出现在俘虏队列
也不与后面口出秽言的群众为伍，

更不在前列，前列的狂徒们猥亵。
放荡的舞蹈在前面越跳越加狂野，
为首的，像草上的影子一样敏捷，

比战车更迅疾而且从不稍事休歇，
合着粗野的乐曲，跳着狂乱的舞，
狂跳乱舞，彼此混合，愈跳愈野，

他们为这种折磨人的欢乐而受苦，
而抽搐，而且随着那狞恶的精灵
迅猛的旋风转动——而从宇宙之初

那精灵就用作恶排遣闲暇的光阴——
他们头向后仰，任长发迎风飘扬，
围绕着使太阳失色的她跳个不停，

青年男女们甩开他们狂热的臂膀，
两脚快速移动；他们会退出人群，
这时，他们会彼此接近俯身相向，

内心深处如火点燃；当他们脸红，
像飞蛾，被光吸引，又被火遏阻，
常常向着他们那辉煌的毁灭前行，

直到仿佛两朵云团被迫进入峡谷，
使山峦为之震颤，他们电火交会，
而当震动余波未尽，便化作雨露

消散，维系双方的热情纽带崩溃，
一个倒下，另一个也便失去知觉
横卧路上，死，也不单行而成对，

而在我能说出何处之前，那战车
已从他们身上压过而无踪迹可辨，
只像海洋暴怒之后留下了的泡沫

已在荒凉的海岸上晾干——后面，
年迈的男男女女在羞辱性的风里
摇晃他们的白发，衣衫污秽凌乱，

舞步蹒跚，用那衰弱的肢体竭力
要去攀那明光四射的车，却只是
被甩得更远，被更深的暗影遮蔽

他们转着圈跳舞，并不因为意志
乏力而稍减狂热，尽管阴森的阴影
已插进人群，把他们和彼此圈起，

履行着任务，来自于尘土的人们
又复归尘土，他们躺倒处，腐败
覆盖上罩单，做……做过的事情。
这凄惨的游行场景，我难以理解，
  我不禁自问出声——这都是什么?
  车中的形影是谁?却又所为何来一”

  我还想要问——“这是否出了差错?一”
  有个声音回答——“生命广——我转身，
  才明白(天哪，请怜悯这可怜境遇!)

  我原先以为，是一段古老的树根，
  扭曲成了奇形怪状，生长在山脚，
  却实在是误人歧途族类中的一人；

  我以为，是散乱纷披的白色衰草，
  不过是他的头发已褪色而且稀疏；
  它企图，但是未能掩盖住的孔窍，

  是，或曾经是，他的双眼所在处，
  那冷峻的脸(知道我想什么)，说，
  “若能像我一样克制不去参加跳舞，

  “我愿告诉你是什么导致同伴和我
  沦落到承受这样深重的轻蔑屈辱，
  叙述这队列清晨以来的一路经过；

  “如果一穷究竟的渴望还不能餍足，
  你尽可追随观察直到深夜，但是
  我已疲惫。”他蹒跚迈步，就仿佛

由于不胜自己语言的重负，于是
他稍事喘息；不待他重新继续说，
我问：“首先，你是谁?”“在你能记事

“以前，我已爱过恨过怕过痛苦过，
作过而且活过。如果上苍点燃我
灵魂的火花曾用更纯净的火药烧灼，

“现在腐败就不会从往日那个卢梭”
获取得这么多，这副相貌就不会
使得耻于承受它的这人蒙受羞辱；

“如果我已被扑灭，但是我发出的
火花，却已点燃上千引航的明灯。”
“被锁在车座背后的那些又都是谁?”

“后世不忘的圣贤和伟人——他们
戴着盔、冕、主教冠和明光编织
成的花环，思想帝国的权威象征——

“他们的学问不教人如何认识自己，
他们的能力不足以排解内心的神秘，
为寻求想象中的真理黎明而努力，

“黄昏前便陷入了深沉的夜。”下劾抵
在前胸，双手交加于锁链的是谁？
“一个狂暴时代的产儿，他曾竭力
   
“要赢得世界，而当它的希望破灭，
却失去了其中原有的伟大的一切，
本可获得比美德自身更多的赞美

“与安宁，若不是机遇以鹰的羽翼  
载他飞上成千攀登者曾先他之前：
翻跌，像拿破仑那样翻跌下来的

“峰颠。”——我感觉我的脸色突变；
当我看见那影子离去时掌握松开
留下了一个庞大而太软弱的人间
   
以至于对它任何侏儒都可以走来
踢一脚，我伤心：为了相反的意愿
和权威在统治着我们凡人的昼与夜
   
为什么上帝要让善的目标与手段
不相协调一致；而由于绝望，我   
几乎要为我眼睛的愿望感到羞惭，

它愿意看曾经有过而现在很难说
已经变样的时代过时乏味的场景。
“瞧见么，掠夺和被掠者”，向导对我

这样说，“伏尔泰、保罗和凯塞琳，
腓特烈和列奥波德，煽动家和暴君，
圣人——世人以为总是古老的名称，

“在生命和他们所进行过的战争中，
她，始终是征服者。而征服我的
只是我的心，无论是年岁、嘲弄，

“眼泪，或是现在的坟墓，都难以
使它屈服。——就让过去的全都过去”，
我喊叫，“这世界和它阴森的际遇

“都不比它以往更有多大光辉之处，
我愿尊敬的一类能在老朽凋谢后
又在它不真实而易碎的镜面绘出

“新的形象”。“总有新的形象会上浮
  在气泡上，你可以画，如果你想；
  我们只是跟着我们前人的步于走，

  “把我们的影子投在消逝的气泡上。
  但是注意，那些往日伟人的幽灵
  被拘锁在那凯旋车座后面的景况；

  “伟大柏拉图有生而已死的那部分。
  在赎他老师所不识的欢乐与悲哀，
  支配他命运的曾是颗美好的星辰，

  “久不开放天国之花的生活竟以爱
  征服了他那颗黄金、痛苦、年岁，
  怠惰或奴役都征不服的心灵和胸怀。

  “他近旁走着两个人
  老师和学生，追随那学生的王权
  像一只链条锁着的兀鹰一样驯顺。


  “他的一臂便能使世界笼罩于黑暗，
  他是名声从许许多多的征服者之中
  单挑出来的为她携带雷霆的嬖娈；

  “那另一个历经战争和灾祸而长存，
  在人们的思想上处位至尊，一直
  握紧钥匙，守住真理的永恒之门，

  “如果墙根那雄鹰般的精神不曾似
  电光冲破黑夜——他逼迫那自然
  从沉睡中唤醒它变化无常的形体，

  “引导他前往它的洞穴，洞穴里面
  封藏着它统治领域内的各种秘密。
  再看古代伟大的歌手，他们和缓

  “他们所唱的激情，从他们的歌声里
  可以清楚地知道，那不朽的旋律
  至今仍能以它自己适当的感染力

  “引起受感染者的共鸣——而我却
  在为我所写的受罪或更惨的痛苦!
  我的话语含有能引起不幸的原素——

“更像是别人的而不是他们的创作”。
这时，他又用手指向一群人指去，
我从中很快就认出了恺撒罪恶的。

继承人们，从他直到君斯坦丁大帝，
那些暴虐的首领曾以他们的暴力
和阴谋陷阱建立了许多君王世系

并且到处传播黄金和腥血的灾难：
格列高利和约翰，和神圣的人杰，
像影子一样崛起在人和上帝之间；

以至那种掩蚀体，一直高悬在天上，
终于被他们脚下的世界崇拜礼赞，
代替了被它扑灭了的真正的太阳——

“他们被给予力量，只是为了破坏”，
指引人回答，“我却属于创造者一行，
“即使创造的只是个痛苦的世界。”
“你来自何处?”我说，“要往何处走?
你的路程怎样开始，又所为何来?
“我的眼睛看厌了这无穷尽的人流，

我的心在为一种可悲的思想苦恼——
请说!”“来自何处，我似乎还能够
“知道一些，是怎样由哪些途径衙道

落到这可怕的处境连你也能猜出；
为什么应该如此却非我所能知晓；
“更不必提征眼者要把我赶往何处——

但是你可以跟下去，从旁观变成
这场灾难的演员或受害者，也许
“我就可以从你的见闻和所得教训

有所理解。请往下听：四月乍到，
当所有的树木都接触到阳春时令
“蔚蓝色的气氛，树梢上开始燃烧

耀眼的绿色火苗，我正躺在一处
高山的山脚，从何时起已不可考，
“那山已形成一个既高且深的洞窟，

从中缓缓流淌出一条优雅的小河，
清澈如明净的空气，宁静的水域
“浸着弯曲柔嫩的小草，不断滋润着

芬芳鲜花的根茎，并且充满森林
以奇妙的音响，谁听见谁就会忘却
“一切欢乐、一切痛苦、一切爱憎，

一切这宁静一刻以前所知的往昔；
一个入睡的母亲就不会再在梦中
“梦见她黄昏时死在怀里的独生子——

一个国王也就不致再为他的头上
被剥夺了王冠而悲痛得无休无止，
“而能静观盘桓在大洋上空的太阳

为他对手的新兴盛景再镀上黄金。
你也会忘掉徒劳无益地为病痛悲伤，
“忘掉不能从你自身找到疗救的病痛

忘掉没有别种入睡能够加以了结，
没有另样的美妙乐音能从记忆中
“消除的病痛念头，使人忘却一切的

魔力实在美妙；这样入睡以前
我是否生活过，是否有我想象的
“天堂和像我从中醒来哭泣的人间

一样冷酷的地狱，我都全不知情。
我起身，有一片刻，尽管是白天，
  “树林和流水所在处却有一束光痕

  仍然保存，那光比普通太阳倾泻
  在普通大地的光更加明亮而神圣，
  “到处都充溢着神奇的音响，那些

  音响编织成的乐曲可以使人遗忘，
  使知觉对流水和阴影都不复清晰；
  “当我抬头四向张望，清晨的明光

  无处不在，已从东方的洞穴流出，
  在闪光如同黄金的泉水上，太阳
  “灿烂的形象燃放光芒，射进全部

  迷宫一样的森林和其中蜿延曲折
  燃烧着碧绿火苗的那些林间小路
  “在太阳中心，像太阳在他自己的

  荣光炽烈处，在不断闪耀着光辉
  不断颤动着的泉水上，立着一个
  “明光的形体．她左手把雨露洒给

  大地，仿佛她就是黎明，无形的
  雨水不停地唱着一首银色的歌曲，
  “降落在那长满了苔藓的绿色草地，

  而在我前方隐约可辨的草莽上空，
  彩虹，展开她那色彩绚丽的锦帔。
  “她的右手握着一只精致的水晶瓶，

  披着一袭用忘忧草编织成的斗篷；
  当她从那既高且深的洞窟中穿行，
  “她的脚掌落下时是那样轻巧灵敏，

  甚至不会踏碎那明镜一般的水面，
  她沿着明镜一般的水面向前滑行，
  “每当她低下头去闪躲开黑色枝干，

  秀发仿佛垂柳，轻拂流水的柔胸，
  流水欢快絮语，情愿做她的枕垫。
  “像一个为爱情陶醉的恋人在梦中

  飘浮在盛开着睡莲的湖上，顺从
  奇妙的音乐穿过银色的雾，那形影
  “似乎时而用她吻着浪花的脚走动，

  踏着水波，时而，顺着吹皱水面
  吹皱紫水晶般水面的风乘风滑行，
  “时而沿着林木间朦胧朝晖的光线，

  或是沿着一棵棵树下柔和的阴影；
  她的双脚，永远顺从那持续不断
  “树叶、波浪、滴水、小鸟和蜜蜂

  唱出的歌声，总是合着一种清新
  甜美的韵律运动，仿佛夏夜轻风
  “从湖里托起一个金色的晶莹形影，

  在两块岩石之间迎着初升的月亮
  凌风舞踊，在雄鹰飞不到的上空；
  “而且她的双脚，也有神奇的力量，

  不亚于美妙的音乐，似乎边走边抹，
  抹去了注视着她脚的那人的思想；
  “转瞬间一切景象都似乎不曾有过，

  注视者的一切心思都被抛撒在地
  成为她脚下的灰烬，她逐个逐个
  “把那些思想的火花踏人死的尘灰；

  像白昼从东方的大门口逐一踏灭
  夜的灯盏，直到黑暗倦退的气息
  “使苍天明亮的眼睛，连那最小的，

  又重新开启：她来临，就像白天，
  使黑夜化为幻梦；当她尚未停歇，
  “像一个人，尚在欲望和羞耻之间

  犹豫，我说——如果，你就确实
  像你看上去的那样，来自某一片
  “没有名称的远方，来到这永远是

  梦的山谷，请告诉，我来自何处，
  现在何处，为何不随那流水消逝。
“起来，解一解你的渴，是她的答复。

  像一朵紧闭的睡莲被带露的清晨
  那支具有活命魔力的魔杖所接触，
  “我起身!听从她悦耳的命令俯身，

  用焦燥的嘴唇去迎她端着的酒杯，
  突然，我的头脑，仿佛已经变成
  “沙滩，那里，第一度来潮的海水

  已经把荒凉拉布拉多的鹿群蹄印
  冲刷殆尽，他们逃避的凶猛兽类
  “豺狼，在岸边的足迹却依旧分明，

留待潮汐再一次冲洗；于是我眼前
便显现一幅前所未见的全新图景，
“那美好的形影，在强光中，逐渐

退隐，像沉默无声的星辉从晨星
一层层褪落在黎明宝石绿的天边，
“当朝阳尚未染红远处山峦的峰顶；

也像那颗最美的行星，虽然已望
不见，有种人仍能感觉她的踪影，——
“他希望他的—天路程结束时能像

开始时一样沐浴着那颗-是的笑容，
那星光就像晚风吹拂的水仙花香
建造在她那御风而行的凉亭上空，

“而在下方，则以非凡的华彩披覆
荒原，远在她的前方是浩浩荡荡
华光的暴风之流，这一光流禁阻

“树叶和石头的阴影下投，这强光
照射处，那人群似骷髅在阳光下
跳舞：有些，在为沙漠中的草场

“单调的绿地增添色彩的绚丽鲜花
新编织成的锦绣地毯上纵情嬉戏，
忘却了正在飞速向前行进的战车；

“有些，在站着观望，直到被那一
如山的车影吞没，在强光下暗淡，
有些，比战车更快捷；还有一些

“围绕它形成圆圈转动，就像蓝天，
大气的海洋，云朵围绕月亮游泳；
更多的，跟在战车后的俘虏后面，

“跟在他们后面高声大唱狂热歌颂；
但是，全像是洪水漩涡中的汽泡，
最终都汇入同一条轨道，被浪涌

“裹带着前进——我，也被这人潮
所裹带——我，最美的花朵不长久，
我，不是影子，也不是离群孤岛，

“我，不是那条河流令人遗忘的歌，
我，不是凭借河水流动而行动的
那前一个形影的幽灵——是洪流

“中的一个，我投身在那十分稠密
汹涌的活人洪流，并把我的心胸
袒露给那寒光却太快就成了残废。

“就在那一乘战车正准备开始攀登
那神秘谷地对面陡峭山坡的时刻，
我看见了值得那一位写诗的奇景

“他，曾经从地狱的最底一层开始
在恬静的爱引导下，历经各层天国
和所有的荣光，然后又回到人世，

“叙述恨与敬畏的见闻，关于万物，
除了爱，全都会畸变的奇妙故事；
耳聋如海的头发，也会由于愤怒

“变白，世人听不见能感动一颗星的，
乐音，那星的光是仁爱者的乐曲——
这样的奇景值得那位诗人写作成诗。——

“影子挤满了树林，直到林木深处，
  大地变得灰，由于幽灵遍布，
  晦暗的形影充斥空间，成群飞舞，

  “似赤道阳光下一大片吸血的蝙蝠，
  不待黄昏降临便给某个印度小岛
  带来奇异的黑色夜幕；于是到处

  “全都是影子；有些还向后投出了
  影子的影子，却已不像他们自己，
  有一些像是试飞的雏鹰仍然幼小，

  “在白炽的强光中消失，有些好像
  林妖，以难以想象的舞姿舞蹈在
  阳光下的河流、绿草如茵的岸上

  “有些像猿猴，叽叽呱呱坐在一块，
  在普通人们的手上……
  有些把帝王披风和貂皮帽子拿来

  “做成一只摇篮，有些，像是兀鹰
  卧在教皇的三重冕上；另有一些
  在那能把一个帝国加给一名幼婴

  “或一个白痴的皇冠下面恣情嬉戏
  而且把它当成巢穴。老朽的僵尸。
  在魔鬼翅膀的荫庇下哺育着后裔，

  “从他们僵死的眼睛里流露出笑意，
  要重新收回已被委派出去的权力，
  那些虫豸就披着这权力称王称帝，

  “而使得人世成了他们的停尸场地。
  另外一些，比较谦卑，好像猎鹰，
  停在普通人的手上，有时也飞起

  “盘旋在他们的头顶；或是像蚊蝇，
  像黄昏沼泽的雾一样稠密，簇拥
  在律师、神父、政客和理论家们

  “头颅四周，还有一些，仿佛空中
  失去颜色的雪花，在最美的秀发
  和最有光泽的胸脯上落下，最终

  “被他们所扑灭的青春之光所熔化，
  还有一些像眼泪，他们成了那些
  伤心哭泣者的面纱，我终于明白

  “这样污染了我们所走道路的形体，
  来自何方；每隔短短的一段时间
  每一形体上的美，就会逐渐消失，

    行动和形态不再具备生命的完满
    “品质，青年们大理石雕似的额头
由于烦恼而坼裂，在闪现过美梦

    和希望的眼睛里，欲望像失去最后
    “幼崽时眼看它死去的母狮；群众中
人人都在不断地生发出这些影子，

    像秋日的黄昏时分，白杨树被风
    “吹落下无数枯萎的落叶。初开始，
各有各的形象，而且，彼此相似，

    但是不久便失去原状，就仿佛是
    “无定形的云随风塑造容貌和姿势；
而用这种材料，车上有创造力的光

    制造了所有那些忙碌的幻影，恰似
    “太阳造就那白云的形态；就这样，
一张又一张面具从所有人的面孔

    和躯体落到路上；早在一天的时光
    “老去以前，像天堂的一瞥，唤醒
遗忘之谷熟睡者的欢乐便已死亡；

    有些会由于跳恐怖的舞精疲力尽，
    “而倒下，就像我这样，倒在路旁；——
    那些有最多的影子最快地离去的，

  “从每一最健壮的肢体最美的容颜，
  就只能有最少的力和美留在身上。
  “那末，生命是什么?我高声质疑。”——

    1822年5月下旬
    至6月下旬



原文：

The Triumph of Life

[Composed at Lerici on the Gulf of Spezzia in the spring and early summer of 1822—the poem on which Shelley was engaged at the time of his death. Published by Mrs. Shelley in the "Posthumous Poems" of 1824, pages 73-95. Several emendations, the result of Dr. Garnett's examination of the Boscombe manuscript, were given to the world by Miss Mathilde Blind, "Westminster Review", July, 1870. The poem was, of course, included in the "Poetical Works", 1839, both editions. See Editor's Notes.]

Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Of glory and of good, the Sun sprang forth
Rejoicing in his splendour, and the mask
Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth—
The smokeless altars of the mountain snows
Flamed above crimson clouds, and at the birth
Of light, the Ocean's orison arose,
To which the birds tempered their matin lay.
All flowers in field or forest which unclose
Their trembling eyelids to the kiss of day,[1]
Swinging their censers in the element,
With orient incense lit by the new ray
Burned slow and inconsumably, and sent
Their odorous sighs up to the smiling air;
And, in succession due, did continent,
Isle, ocean, and all things that in them wear
The form and character of mortal mould,
Rise as the Sun their father rose, to bear
Their portion of the toil, which he of old
Took as his own, and then imposed on them:
But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold
Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem
The cone of night, now they were laid asleep
Stretched my faint limbs beneath the hoary stem
Which an old chestnut flung athwart the steep
Of a green Apennine: before me fled
The night; behind me rose the day; the deep
Was at my feet, and Heaven above my head,—
When a strange trance over my fancy grew
Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread
Was so transparent, that the scene came through
As clear as when a veil of light is drawn
O'er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew
That I had felt the freshness of that dawn
Bathe[2] in the same cold dew my brow and hair,
And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn
Under the self-same bough, and heard as there
The birds, the fountains and the ocean hold
Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air,
And then a vision on my train was rolled.
...
As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay,
This was the tenour of my waking dream:—
Methought I sate beside a public way
Thick strewn with summer dust, and a great stream
Of people there was hurrying to and fro,
Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam,
All hastening onward, yet none seemed to know
Whither he went, or whence he came, or why
He made one of the multitude, and so
Was borne amid the crowd, as through the sky
One of the million leaves of summer's bier;
Old age and youth, manhood and infancy,
Mixed in one mighty torrent did appear,
Some flying from the thing they feared, and some
Seeking the object of another's fear;
And others, as with steps towards the tomb,
Pored on the trodden worms that crawled beneath,
And others mournfully within the gloom
Of their own shadow walked, and called it death;
And some fled from it as it were a ghost,
Half fainting in the affliction of vain breath:
But more, with motions which each other crossed,
Pursued or shunned[3] the shadows the clouds threw,
Or birds within the noonday aether lost,
Upon that path where flowers never grew,—
And, weary with vain toil and faint for thirst,
Heard not the fountains, whose melodious dew
Out of their mossy cells forever burst;
Nor felt the breeze which from the forest told
Of grassy paths and wood-lawns interspersed[4]
With overarching elms and caverns cold,
And violet banks where sweet dreams brood, but they
Pursued their serious folly as of old.
And as I gazed, methought that in the way
The throng grew wilder, as the woods of June
When the south wind shakes the extinguished day,
And a cold glare, intenser than the noon,
But icy cold, obscured with blinding light
The sun, as he the stars. Like the young moon—
When on the sunlit limits of the night
Her white shell trembles amid crimson air,
And whilst the sleeping tempest gathers might—
Doth, as the herald of its coming, bear
The ghost of its dead mother, whose dim form[5]
Bends in dark aether from her infant's chair,—
So came a chariot on the silent storm
Of its own rushing splendour, and a Shape
So sate within, as one whom years deform,
Beneath a dusky hood and double cape,
Crouching within the shadow of a tomb;
And o'er what seemed the head a cloud-like crape
Was bent, a dun and faint aethereal gloom
Tempering the light. Upon the chariot-beam[6]
A Janus-visaged Shadow did assume
The guidance of that wonder-winged team;
The shapes which drew it[7] in thick lightenings
Were lost:—I heard alone on the air's soft stream
The music of their ever-moving wings.
All the four faces of that Charioteer
Had their eyes banded; little profit brings
Speed in the van and blindness in the rear,
Nor then avail the beams that quench the sun,—
Or that with banded eyes could pierce the sphere
Of all that is, has been or will be done;
So ill was the car guided—but it passed
With solemn speed majestically on.
The crowd gave way, and I arose aghast,
Or seemed to rise, so mighty was the trance,
And saw, like clouds upon the thunder-blast,[8]
The million with fierce song and maniac dance
Raging around—such seemed the jubilee
As when to greet some conqueror's advance[9]
Imperial Rome poured forth her living sea
From senate-house, and forum, and theatre,
When ... upon the free
Had bound a yoke, which soon they stooped to bear.
Nor wanted here the just similitude
Of a triumphal pageant, for where'er
The chariot rolled, a captive multitude
Was driven;—all those who had grown old in power
Or misery,—all who had their age subdued
By action or by suffering, and whose hour
Was drained to its last sand in weal or woe,
So that the trunk survived both fruit and flower;—
All those whose fame or infamy must grow
Till the great winter lay the form and name
Of this green earth with them for ever low;—
All but the sacred few who could not tame
Their spirits to the conquerors[10]—but as soon
As they had touched the world with living flame,
Fled back like eagles to their native noon,
Or those who put aside the diadem
Of earthly thrones or gems...
Were there, of Athens or Jerusalem.
Were neither mid the mighty captives seen,
Nor mid the ribald crowd that followed them,
Nor those who went before fierce and obscene.
The wild dance maddens in the van, and those
Who lead it—fleet as shadows on the green,
Outspeed the chariot, and without repose
Mix with each other in tempestuous measure
To savage music, wilder as it grows,
They, tortured by their agonizing pleasure,
Convulsed and on the rapid whirlwinds spun
Of that fierce Spirit, whose unholy leisure
Was soothed by mischief since the world begun,
Throw back their heads and loose their streaming hair;
And in their dance round her who dims the sun,
Maidens and youths fling their wild arms in air
As their feet twinkle; they recede, and now
Bending within each other's atmosphere,
Kindle invisibly—and as they glow,
Like moths by light attracted and repelled,
Oft to their bright destruction come and go,
Till like two clouds into one vale impelled,
That shake the mountains when their lightnings mingle
And die in rain—the fiery band which held
Their natures, snaps—while[11] the shock still may tingle
One falls and then another in the path
Senseless—nor is the desolation single,
Yet ere I can say WHERE—the chariot hath
Passed over them—nor other trace I find
But as of foam after the ocean's wrath
Is spent upon the desert shore;—behind,
Old men and women foully disarrayed,
Shake their gray hairs in the insulting wind,
And follow in the dance,[12] with limbs decayed,
Seeking[13] to reach the light which leaves them still
Farther behind and deeper in the shade.
But not the less with impotence of will
They wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose
Round them and round each other, and fulfil
Their work, and in the dust from whence they rose
Sink, and corruption veils them as they lie,
And past in these performs what ... in those.
Struck to the heart by this sad pageantry,
Half to myself I said—'And what is this?
Whose shape is that within the car? And why—'
I would have added—'is all here amiss?—'
But a voice answered—'Life!'—I turned, and knew
(O Heaven, have mercy on such wretchedness!)
That what I thought was an old root which grew
To strange distortion out of the hill side,
Was indeed one of those deluded crew,
And that the grass, which methought hung so wide
And white, was but his thin discoloured hair,
And that the holes he vainly sought to hide,
Were or had been eyes:—'If thou canst[14] forbear
To join the dance, which I had well forborne,'[15]
Said the grim Feature,[16] of my thought aware,[17]
'I will unfold that which to this deep scorn
Led me and my companions, and relate
The progress of the pageant since the morn;
'If thirst of knowledge shall not then abate,
Follow it thou even to the night, but I
Am weary.'—Then like one who with the weight
Of his own words is staggered, wearily
He paused; and ere he could resume, I cried:
'First, who art thou?'—'Before thy memory,
'I feared, loved, hated, suffered, did and died,
And if the spark with which Heaven lit my spirit
Had been with purer nutriment[18] supplied,
'Corruption would not now thus much inherit
Of what was once Rousseau,—nor this disguise
Stain[19] that which ought to have disdained to wear it;
'If I have been extinguished, yet there rise
A thousand beacons from the spark I bore'—
'And who are those chained to the car?'—'The wise,
'The great, the unforgotten,—they who wore
Mitres and helms and crowns, or wreaths of light,
Signs of thought's empire over thought—their lore
'Taught them not this, to know themselves; their might
Could not repress the mystery within,
And for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night
'Caught them ere evening.'—'Who is he with chin
Upon his breast, and hands crossed on his chain?'—
'The child of a fierce hour; he sought to win
'The world, and lost all that it did contain
Of greatness, in its hope destroyed; and more
Of fame and peace than virtue's self can gain
'Without the opportunity which bore
Him on its eagle pinions to the peak
From which a thousand climbers have before
'Fallen, as Napoleon fell.'—I felt my cheek
Alter, to see the shadow pass away,
Whose grasp had left the giant world so weak
That every pigmy kicked it as it lay;
And much I grieved to think how power and will
In opposition rule our mortal day,
And why God made irreconcilable
Good and the means of good; and for despair
I half disdained mine eyes' desire to fill
With the spent vision of the times that were
And scarce have ceased to be.—'Dost thou behold,'
Said my[20] guide, 'those spoilers spoiled, Voltaire,
'Frederick, and Paul, Catherine, and Leopold,
And hoary anarchs, demagogues, and sage—
names which the[21] world thinks always old,
'For in the battle Life and they did wage,
She remained conqueror. I was overcome
By my own heart alone, which neither age,
'Nor tears, nor infamy, nor now the tomb
Could temper to its object.'—'Let them pass,'
I cried, 'the world and its mysterious doom
'Is not so much more glorious than it was,
That I desire to worship those who drew
New figures on its false and fragile glass
'As the old faded.'—'Figures ever new
Rise on the bubble, paint them as you may;
We have but thrown, as those before us threw,
'Our shadows on it as it passed away.
But mark how[22] chained to the triumphal chair
The mighty phantoms of an elder day;
'All that is mortal of great Plato there
Expiates the joy and woe his master knew not;
The star that ruled his doom was far too fair.
'And life, where long that flower of Heaven grew not,
Conquered that heart by love, which gold, or pain,
Or age, or sloth, or slavery could subdue not.
'And near him[23] walk the ... twain,
The tutor and his pupil, whom Dominion
Followed as tame as vulture in a chain.
'The world was darkened beneath either pinion
Of him whom from the flock of conquerors
Fame singled out for[24] her thunder-bearing minion;
'The other long outlived both woes and wars,
Throned in the thoughts of men, and still had kept
The jealous key of Truth's eternal doors,
'If Bacon's eagle spirit had not lept
Like lightning out of darkness—he compelled
The Proteus shape of Nature, as it slept
'To wake, and lead him to the caves that held
The treasure of the secrets of its reign.
See the great bards of elder time, who quelled
'The passions which they sung, as by their strain
May well be known: their living melody
Tempers its own contagion to the vein
'Of those who are infected with it—I
Have suffered what I wrote, or viler pain!
And so my words have seeds of misery—
'Even as the deeds of others, not as theirs.'
And then he pointed to a company,[25]
'Midst whom I quickly recognized the heirs
Of Caesar's crime, from him to Constantine;
The anarch chiefs, whose force and murderous snares
Had founded many a sceptre-bearing line,
And spread the plague of gold and blood abroad:
And Gregory and John, and men divine,
Who rose like shadows between man and God;
Till that eclipse, still hanging over heaven,
Was worshipped by the world o'er which they strode,
For the true sun it quenched—'Their power was given
But to destroy,' replied the leader:—'I
Am one of those who have created, even
'If it be but a world of agony.'—
'Whence camest[26] thou? and whither goest thou?
How did thy course begin?' I said, 'and why?
'Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow
Of people, and my heart sick of one sad thought—
Speak!'—'Whence I am, I partly seem to know,
'And how and by what paths I have been brought
To this dread pass, methinks even thou mayst guess;—
Why this should be, my mind can compass not;
'Whither the conqueror hurries me, still less;—
But follow thou, and from spectator turn
Actor or victim in this wretchedness,
'And what thou wouldst be taught I then may learn
From thee. Now listen:—In the April prime,
When all the forest-tips began to burn
'With kindling green, touched by the azure clime
Of the young season,[27] I was laid asleep
Under a mountain, which from unknown time
'Had yawned into a cavern, high and deep;
And from it came a gentle rivulet,
Whose water, like clear air, in its calm sweep
'Bent the soft grass, and kept for ever wet
The stems of the sweet flowers, and filled the grove
With sounds, which whoso hears must needs forget
'All pleasure and all pain, all hate and love,
Which they had known before that hour of rest;
A sleeping mother then would dream not of
'Her only child who died upon the[28] breast
At eventide—a king would mourn no more
The crown of which his brows were dispossessed
'When the sun lingered o'er his ocean floor
To gild his rival's new prosperity.
'Thou wouldst forget thus vainly to deplore
'Ills, which if ills can find no cure from thee,
The thought of which no other sleep will quell,
Nor other music blot from memory,
'So sweet and deep is the oblivious spell;
And whether life had been before that sleep
The Heaven which I imagine, or a Hell
'Like this harsh world in which I woke[29] to weep,
I know not. I arose, and for a space
The scene of woods and waters seemed to keep,
Though it was now broad day, a gentle trace
Of light diviner than the common sun
Sheds on the common earth, and all the place
'Was filled with magic sounds woven into one
Oblivious melody, confusing sense
Amid the gliding waves and shadows dun;
'And, as I looked, the bright omnipresence
Of morning through the orient cavern flowed,
And the sun's image radiantly intense
'Burned on the waters of the well that glowed
Like gold, and threaded all the forest's maze
With winding paths of emerald fire; there stood
'Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze
Of his own glory, on the vibrating
Floor of the fountain, paved with flashing rays,
'A Shape all light, which with one hand did fling
Dew on the earth, as if she were the dawn,
And the invisible rain did ever sing
'A silver music on the mossy lawn;
And still before me on the dusky grass,
Iris her many-coloured scarf had drawn:
'In her right hand she bore a crystal glass,
Mantling with bright Nepenthe; the fierce splendour
Fell from her as she moved under the mass
'Of the deep cavern, and[30] with palms so tender,
Their tread broke not the mirror of its billow,
Glided[31] along the river, and did bend her
'Head under the dark boughs, till like a willow
Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream
That whispered with delight to be its pillow.
'As one enamoured is upborne in dream
O'er lily-paven lakes, mid silver mist
To wondrous music, so this shape might seem
'Partly to tread the waves with feet which kissed
The dancing foam; partly to glide along
The air which roughened the moist amethyst,
'Or the faint morning beams that fell among
The trees, or the soft shadows of the trees;
And her feet, ever to the ceaseless song
'Of leaves, and winds, and waves, and birds, and bees,
And falling drops, moved in[32] a measure new
Yet sweet, as on the summer evening breeze,
'Up from the lake a shape of golden dew
Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon,
Dances i' the wind, where never eagle flew;
'And still her feet, no less than the sweet tune
To which they moved, seemed as they moved to blot
The thoughts of him who gazed on them; and soon
'All that was, seemed as if it had been not;
And all the gazer's mind was strewn beneath
Her feet like embers; and she, thought by thought,
'Trampled its sparks into the dust of death
As day upon the threshold of the east
Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath
'Of darkness re-illumine even the least
Of heaven's living eyes—like day she came,
Making the night a dream; and ere she ceased
'To move, as one between desire and shame
Suspended, I said—If, as it doth seem,
Thou comest from the realm without a name
'Into this valley of perpetual dream,
Show whence I came, and where I am, and why—
Pass not away upon the passing stream.
'Arise and quench thy thirst, was her reply.
And as a shut lily stricken by the wand
Of dewy morning's vital alchemy,
'I rose; and, bending at her sweet command,
Touched with faint lips the cup she raised,
And suddenly my brain became as sand
'Where the first wave had more than half erased
The track of deer on desert Labrador;
Whilst the wolf, from which they fled amazed,
'Leaves his stamp visibly upon the shore,
Until the second bursts;—so on my sight
Burst a new vision, never seen before,
'And the fair shape waned in the coming light,
As veil by veil the silent splendour drops
From Lucifer, amid the chrysolite
'Of sunrise, ere it tinge the mountain-tops;
And as the presence of that fairest planet,
Although unseen, is felt by one who hopes
'That his day's path may end as he began it,
In that star's smile, whose light is like the scent
Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it,
'Or the soft note in which his dear lament
The Brescian shepherd breathes,[33] or the caress
That turned his weary slumber to content;
'So knew I in that light's severe excess
The presence of that Shape which on the stream
Moved, as I moved along the wilderness,
'More dimly than a day-appearing dream,
The host of a forgotten form of sleep;
A light of heaven, whose half-extinguished beam
'Through the sick day in which we wake to weep
Glimmers, for ever sought, for ever lost;
So did that shape its obscure tenour keep
'Beside my path, as silent as a ghost;
But the new Vision, and the cold bright car,
With solemn speed and stunning music, crossed
'The forest, and as if from some dread war
Triumphantly returning, the loud million
Fiercely extolled the fortune of her star.
'A moving arch of victory, the vermilion
And green and azure plumes of Iris had
Built high over her wind-winged pavilion,
'And underneath aethereal glory clad
The wilderness, and far before her flew
The tempest of the splendour, which forbade
'Shadow to fall from leaf and stone; the crew
Seemed in that light, like atomies to dance
Within a sunbeam;—some upon the new
'Embroidery of flowers, that did enhance
The grassy vesture of the desert, played,
Forgetful of the chariot's swift advance;
'Others stood gazing, till within the shade
Of the great mountain its light left them dim;
Others outspeeded it; and others made
'Circles around it, like the clouds that swim
Round the high moon in a bright sea of air;
And more did follow, with exulting hymn,
'The chariot and the captives fettered there:—
But all like bubbles on an eddying flood
Fell into the same track at last, and were
'Borne onward.—I among the multitude
Was swept—me, sweetest flowers delayed not long;
Me, not the shadow nor the solitude;
'Me, not that falling stream's Lethean song;
Me, not the phantom of that early[34] Form
Which moved upon its motion—but among
'The thickest billows of that living storm
I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime
Of that cold light, whose airs too soon deform.
'Before the chariot had begun to climb
The opposing steep of that mysterious dell,
Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme
'Of him who from the lowest depths of hell,
Through every paradise and through all glory,
Love led serene, and who returned to tell
'The words of hate and awe;[35] the wondrous story
How all things are transfigured except Love;
For deaf as is a sea, which wrath makes hoary,
'The world can hear not the sweet notes that move
The sphere whose light is melody to lovers—
A wonder worthy of his rhyme.—The grove
'Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers,
The earth was gray with phantoms, and the air
Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers
'A flock of vampire-bats before the glare
Of the tropic sun, bringing, ere evening,
Strange night upon some Indian isle;[36]—thus were
'Phantoms diffused around; and some did fling
Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves,
Behind them; some like eaglets on the wing
'Were lost in the white day; others like elves
Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes
Upon the sunny streams and grassy shelves;
'And others sate chattering like restless apes
On vulgar hands,...
Some made a cradle of the ermined capes
'Of kingly mantles; some across the tiar
Of pontiffs sate[37] like vultures; others played
Under the crown which girt with empire
'A baby's or an idiot's brow, and made
Their nests in it. The old anatomies
Sate hatching their bare broods under the shade
'Of daemon wings, and laughed from their dead eyes
To reassume the delegated power,
Arrayed in which those worms did monarchize,
'Who made this earth their charnel. Others more
Humble, like falcons, sate upon the fist
Of common men, and round their heads did soar;
Or like small gnats and flies, as thick as mist
On evening marshes, thronged about the brow
Of lawyers, statesmen, priest and theorist;—
'And others, like discoloured flakes of snow
On fairest bosoms and the sunniest hair,
Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow
'Which they extinguished; and, like tears, they were
A veil to those[38] from whose faint lids they rained
In drops of sorrow. I became aware
'Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained
The track in which we moved. After brief space,
From every form the beauty slowly waned;
'From every firmest limb and fairest face
The strength and freshness fell like dust, and left
The action and the shape without the grace
'Of life. The marble brow of youth was cleft
With care; and in those eyes where once hope shone,
Desire, like a lioness bereft
'Of her last cub, glared ere it died; each one
Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly
These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown
'In autumn evening from a poplar tree.
Each like himself and like each other were
At first; but some distorted seemed to be
'Obscure clouds, moulded by the casual air;
And of this stuff the car's creative ray
Wrought[39] all the busy phantoms that were there,
'As the sun shapes the clouds; thus on the way
Mask after mask fell from the countenance
And form of all; and long before the day
'Was old, the joy which waked like heaven's glance
The sleepers in the oblivious valley, died;
And some grew weary of the ghastly dance,
'And fell, as I have fallen, by the wayside;—
Those soonest from whose forms most shadows passed,
And least of strength and beauty did abide.
'Then, what is life? I cried.'—