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Èç¹û½öÊÇÔªÒô×ÖĸÏàͬ£¬¶ÁÒô²»Í¬£¬²»·ûºÏÈ«ÔÏ£ºÈç: blood----hood; there---here; gone---alone; daughter----laughter. ÕâÖÖÇéÐα»³ÆÎª¡°ÑÛÔÏ¡±£¨eye rhyme£©£¬ËäȻʫÈËÓÐʱÓÃÖ®£¬µ«²»ÊÇÕæÕýµÄѺÔÏ¡£ ½öÊǸ¨ÒôÏàͬ»ò½öÊÇÔªÒôÏàͬµÄÊô°ëÔÏ£º ÔªÒô²»Í¬£¬ÆäǰºóµÄ¸¨ÒôÏàͬ£¬Õâ½Ðг¸¨ÔÏ£¨consonance£©È磺black, block; creak, croak; reader, rider; despise, dispose. ÔªÒôÏàͬ£¬ÆäºóµÄ¸¨ÒôÏàͬÕß½ÐгԪÔÏ£¨assonance£©£¬Èçlake, fate; time, mind. £¨¶þ£© βÔÏÓëÐÐÄÚÔÏ(end rhyme and internal rhyme) ѺÔÚÊ«ÐÐ×îºóÒ»¸öÖØ¶ÁÒô½ÚÉÏ£¬½ÐβÔÏ¡£ÕâÊÇÓ¢ÎÄÊ«¸è×î³£¼ûµÄѺÔϲ¿Î»¡£Ê«ÐÐÖмäÍ£¶Ù´¦µÄÖØ¶ÁÒô½ÚÓë¸ÃÐÐ×îºóÒ»¸öÖØ¶ÁÒô½ÚѺÔÏÕߣ¬½ÐÐÐÄÚÔÏ¡£È磺 Spring, the sweet spring, is the year¡¯s pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, £¨Èý£© ÄÐÔÏÓëÅ®ÔÏ((masculine rhyme and feminine rhyme) ËùѺµÄÔÏÒô¾ÖÏÞÓÚÊ«ÐÐÖÐÖØ¶ÁµÄĩβÒô½ÚÉÏ£¬³ÆÄÐÔÏ£¬Ò²½Ðµ¥ÔÏ£¬ÌýÆðÀ´Ç¿¾¢ÓÐÁ¦¡£È磺late, fate; hill, fill; enjoy, destroy. ѺÔÏѺÔÚÁ½¸öÒô½ÚÉÏ£¬ºóÒ»Òô½Ú·ÇÖØ¶ÁÒô½Ú£¬³ÆÅ®ÔÏ£¬Ò²½ÐË«ÔÏ£¬ÌýÆðÀ´»òÇá¿ì£¬»òÓÄÍñ¡£È磺lighting, fighting; motion, ocean; wining, beginning. ¿´ÏÂÃæÒ»½ÚÊ«£º I am coming, little maiden, With the pleasant sunshine laden; With the honey for the bee, With the blossom for the tree. ǰÁ½ÐÐѺŮÔÏ£¬ºóÁ½ÐÐѺÄÐÔÏ¡£ Ò²Óв»ÉÙÓ¢ÎÄÊ«ÊDz»ÑºÔϵ쬲»ÑºÔϵÄÊ«³ÆÎÞÔÏÊ«»ò°×ÌåÊ«£¨blank verse£©¡£¶àÓÃÔÚÏ·¾çºÍÐðÊÂÊ«ÖС£É¯Ê¿±ÈÑǵÄÏ·¾çºÍÃÖ¶û¶ÙµÄParadise Lost ¶¼ÊÇÓÃblank verseд³ÉµÄ¡£ ѺÔϵÄÊ«½Ðrhymed verse¡£ÎÞÔÏÊ«²»Í¬Óë×ÔÓÉÊ«¡£ÎÞÔÏÊ«Ë䲻ѺÔÏ£¬µ«ÊÇÓй̶¨½Ú×࣬ÒÔÑïÒÖ¸ñÎåÒô²½×î³£¼û¡£×ÔÓÉÊ«½Ú×಻¹Ì¶¨£¬Èçͬ°×»°¡£ ʫѡ¼°½²½â A SELECTION OF ENGLISH POETRY FOR AN OPTIONAL COURSE OF THE UNDERGRADUADTES William Shakespeare£¨1564¡ª1616£© ×÷Õß¼ò½é£º ¾ç×÷¼Ò¡¢Ê«ÈË¡£Ò»Éú´´×÷ÈýÊ®Æß²¿Ï·¾ç£¬154Ê×Ê®ËÄÐÐÊ«¡£ÆäÊ®ËÄÐÐÊ«´ó²¿·ÖÊÇÏ׸øÒ»Î»¹ó×åÇàÄ꣬ÓжþÊ®ÓàÆªÔòÊÇÏ׸øÒ»Î»¡°ºÚ·ôŮʿ¡±£¨the dark lady£©. 1 Sonnet 18 Shall I compare thee to a summer¡¯s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer¡¯s lease hath all too short a date: Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometimes declines, By chance, or nature¡¯s changing course, untrimm¡¯d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow¡¯st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander¡¯st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow¡¯st. So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. ×¢ÊÍ: Compare •••to °Ñʲô±È×öʲô¡£ Thou, thee µÚ¶þÈ˳Ƶ¥Êý´ú´Ê£¬Ç°ÕßÖ÷¸ñ£¬ºóÕß±ö¸ñ¡£ÏÖÒÑΪyou ËùÈ¡´ú¡£ÆäËùÓиñÊÇthy£¬»òthine, ¼´ÏÖ´úÓ¢ÓïµÄyour¡£ Art = are. 16¡¢17ÊÀ¼ÍʱÓëthouÁ¬ÓᣠTemperate: À´×ÔÀ¶¡ÎÄtemper¨¡tus£¬¶ÁʱΪ·ûºÏѺÔϹæÔò£¬¿É½«ÖØÒô·Åºó¡£ Shake£ºshake off¡£ Lease ×â½èÆÚÏÞ£¬´Ë´¦Ö¸ÏÄÌìµÄ³¤¶È¡£ Hath ÓëµÚÈýÈ˳Ƶ¥ÊýÁ¬Óã¬Ï൱ÓÚÏÖ´úÓ¢ÓïµÄhas¡£ Dimmed: clouded. Fair form fair: beautiful thing from beauty. ǰºófairÒâÒ岻ͬ¡£Declines from beauty¡£ Chance£º¼«Ôµ£¬Ê±ÔË£¬ÃüÔË¡£ And every fair from fair sometimes declines,/By chance, or nature¡¯s changing course, untrimm¡¯d£ºÃ¿Ò»¸öÃÀÈË×ÜҪʧȥÃÀò£¬¼´Ê¹Ã»ÓÐÍ»·¢µÄÒÔÍâʼþ£¬Ò²ÌÓ²»¹ý×ÔÈ»½çÉúÀϲ¡ËÀµÄ±äǨ¡£Sometimes: Óеİ汾×÷¡°sometime¡±: at some unspecified time. Untrimm¡¯d: untrimmed. ±¾ÒâΪ°þÈ¥ÃÀ¹ÛµÄÒ·þµÈ£¬´Ë´¦ÒþÓ÷¶áÈ¥ÃÀòµÈ¡£ Fair thou ow¡¯st: beauty you own. ɯʿ±ÈÑÇʱ´ú£¬oweÓëownͨÓ᣹ÅÓ¢ÓïµÚ¶þÈ˳Ƶ¥Êýºó¼Ó-st»ò-est His shade£ºshadow of death. ¡°Nor shall Death brag thou wander¡¯st in his shade¡±£º¡°ËÀÉñÎÞ´Ó¿ä¿Ú£¬ËµÄãÔÚËûµÄÒõÓ°ÀïÅÇ»²¡±¡£ To time thou grow¡¯st: you grow as long as time lasts. Óëʱ¼äͬÊÙ¡£ Grow to = be incorporated with. 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( a) Thou art ©¦more love©¦ly and ©¦more tem©¦perate -: ( cool.gif Rough winds ©¦do shake ©¦the dar©¦ling buds ©¦of May, (a) And sum©¦mer¡¯s lease©¦ hath all ©¦too short©¦ a date: (cool.gif Sometimes ©¦too hot©¦ the eye ©¦of hea©¦ven shines, © And of©¦ten is ©¦his gold ©¦comple©¦xion dimmed; (d) And eve©¦ry fair ©¦from fair ©¦sometimes ©¦declines, © By chance, ©¦or na©¦ture¡¯s chan©¦ging course, ©¦ untrimm¡¯d; (d) But thy ©¦eter©¦nal sum©¦mer shall ©¦not fade, (e) Nor lose©¦ posses©¦sion of ©¦that fair©¦ thou ow¡¯st; (f) Nor shall©¦ Death brag ©¦thou wan©¦der¡¯st in©¦ his shade, (e) When in ©¦eter©¦nal lines ©¦to time©¦ thou grow¡¯st. (f) So long©¦ as men ©¦can breathe ©¦or eyes ©¦can see, (g) So long ©¦lives this, ©¦ and this ©¦gives life©¦ to thee. 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2 Spring When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every three, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo, Cuckoo, cuckoo! Oh word of fear Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen¡¯s clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every three, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo, Cuckoo, cuckoo! Oh word of fear Unpleasing to a married ear! ------Comedy: Love¡¯s Labour Lost ¾çÇ飺Ä÷¥Navarre [n /va: ]¹úÍõÓëÆä¼¸Î»³¯³¼Á¢ÊÄÈýÄêÖ®ÄÚÞðÆúÒ»ÇÐÊÀË׵ĿìÀÖ£¬ÖÂÁ¦ÓÚÑо¿Ñ§ÎÊ¡£ÆäÖеÄÒ»ÌõÊÇ£ºÈýÄêÖ®Öв»¿ÉÓëÅ®×Ó½»Ì¸Ò»´Î¡£²»¾Ã·¨¹ú¹«Ö÷Я¼¸ÃûÊÌÅ®À´°ìÀí¹úÎñ£¬¹úÍõºÍ³¯³¼ÃÅÊØ²»×¡×Ô¼ºµÄÊÄÑÔ£¬°®ÉÏÁËÕ⼸¸öÅ®×Ó¡£×îºó¹«Ö÷µÄ¸¸Ç×È¥ÊÀ£¬¹«Ö÷Òª³Ö½äÈýÄ꣬¹úÍõºÍ³¯³¼ÃǵÄÇó°®Ò²»¯ÎªÅÝÓ°¡£´ËÊ«Ôڴ˾çÖ®½áβ´¦¡£ ×¢ÊÍ£º daisies pied£ºÔÓÉ«µÄ³û¾Õ¡£ lady-smock£ºÒ²×÷lady¡¯s-smock »¨Ãû£º²¼¹ÈÄñ¼ôÇïÂÞ¡£Smock£º¡´¹Å¡µÅ®³ÄÒ£¬ÕÖÒ¡£ cuckoo-buds of yellow hue£º»ÆÉ«µÄ¶Å¾é»¨¡£hue£ºÑÕÉ«¡£ Cuckoo£º[/kuku:] ²¼¹ÈÄñµÄ½ÐÉù£¬Óë/cuckold£¨¼é¸¾µÄÕÉ·ò£©Ò»´ÊгÒô¡£ shepherds [/ ep d] pipe on oaten straws£ºÄÃÑàÂó¸Ë´µÉÚ×Ó¡£ turtles tread£º°ß𯽻Åä¡£Turtle£º¡´¹Å¡µ°ß𣚣=turtledove¡£ Tread£º£¨ÐÛÄñ£©Ó루´ÆÄñ£©½»Åä¡£ rooks and daws£º°××ìÑ»ºÍѨÄñ¡£ ÄÚÈݽâÎö£º ´ºÌìÀï°Ù»¨ÕùÑÞ£¬ÍòÏó¸üУ¬ÇéÈËÃdzÁ×íÓÚÌðÃ۵İ®ÇéÖ®ÖС£µ«Ê÷ÉÒÉϲ¼¹ÈÄñµÄ½ÐÉùÈ´ËÆºõÔÚ²»¶ÏÌáÐÑÈËÃÇ£º°®Çé²¢²»¿É¿¼¡£´ËÊ«Óз´·íÒâ棬Óë¾çÇéÒ»Ö¡£Ó¢¹úÊ«È˸ʱ´¶û£¨Thomas Campbell£¬1777¡ª1844£©ÔÚ Freedom and LoveһʫÖÐ˵£º¡°Love has bliss, but love has ruining/ Other smiles may make you fickle/ Tears for other charm may trickle¡£¡± ÐÎʽ½âÎö£ºÒÖÑï¸ñËÄÒô²½£¬ÔÏʽ£ºabab cc d ee; fgfg hh d ee When dai©¦sies pied ©¦and vio©¦lets blue And la©¦dy-smocks©¦ all sil©¦ver-white And cu©¦ckoo-buds ©¦of ye©¦llow hue Do paint ©¦he mea©¦dows with©¦ delight, The cu©¦ckoo then, ©¦on eve©¦ry three, Mocks mar©¦ried men; ©¦for thus ©¦sings he, Cuckoo, Cuckoo, ©¦cuckoo! ©¦Oh word©¦ of fear Unplea©¦sing to©¦ a mar©¦ried ear! When she©¦pherds pipe ©¦on oa©¦ten straws, And mer©¦ry larks©¦ are plough ©¦men¡¯s clocks, When turt©¦les tread, ©¦ and rooks, ©¦and daws, And mai©¦dens bleach ©¦their sum©¦mer socks, The cu©¦ckoo then, ©¦on eve©¦ry three, Mocks mar©¦ried men; ©¦for thus ©¦sings he, Cuckoo, Cuckoo, ©¦cuckoo! ©¦Oh word ©¦of fear Unplea©¦sing to©¦ a mar©¦ried ear! ²Î¿¼ÒëÎÄ£º µ±ÔÓÉ«µÄ³û¾Õ¿ª±éÄÁ³¡£¬ À¶µÄ×ÏÂÞÀ¶£¬°×µÄÃÀÈËÉÀ£¬ »¹ÓÐÄǶž黨ÍÂÀÙ½¿»Æ£¬ Ãè³öÁËһƬ¹ã´óµÄÐÀ»¶£» Ìý¶Å¾éÔÚÿһÖêÊ÷ÉϽУ¬ °ÑÄÇÈ¢ÁËÆÞµÄÄÐÈ˼¥Ð¦£º ¿©¹¾£¡ ¿©¹¾£¡¿©¹¾£¡°¡£¬¿ÉŵÄÉùÒô£¡ º¦µÃ×öÕÉ·òµÄÈâÌøÐľª¡£ µ±ÎÞ³îµÄÄÁͯ¿Ú´µÂóµÑ£¬ Ç峿µÄÔÆÈ¸¾ªÐÑÁËÅ©ÈË£¬ °ßð¯ÎÚÑ»¶¼ÔÚÃÙÂÂÇóÆ¥£¬ Å®ÀÉÃÇÆ¯Ï´Ïļ¾µÄÒÂȺ£» Ìý¶Å¾éÔÚÿһÖêÊ÷ÉϽУ¬ °ÑÄÇÈ¢ÁËÆÞµÄÄÐÈ˼¥Ð¦£º ¿©¹¾£¡ ¿©¹¾£¡¿©¹¾£¡°¡£¬¿ÉŵÄÉùÒô£¡ º¦µÃ×öÕÉ·òµÄÈâÌøÐľª¡££¨ÖìÉúºÀ£© 3 To Be or Not To Be To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ¡¯tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die¡ªto sleep¡ª No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to. ¡¯tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die¡ªto sleep. To sleep¡ªperchance to dream: ay, there¡¯s the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There¡¯s the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor¡¯s wrong, the proud man¡¯ contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law¡¯s delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death¡ª The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns¡ªpuzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ill we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o¡¯er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. ¾çÇ飺 ¡¶¹þŠÃÀ³ÌØ¡·ÊÇɯʿ±ÈÑÇÖØÒª¾ç×÷Ö®Ò»£¬Ð´ÓÚ1601Äê¡£¾çÖеÄÖ÷È˹«Êǵ¤ÂóÍõ×ÓHamlit¡£¹þÄ·À³Ìصĸ¸Ç×£¬¼´µ¤Âó¹úÍõ£¬±»¹þÄ·À³ÌصÄÊ常Claudius ÃØÃܺ¦ËÀ£¬²»µ½Á½¸öÔ£¬ÓÖÓë¹þÄ·À³ÌصÄĸÇ×£¬¼´Íõºó£¬½á»é¡£»¹ÇÔÈ¡ÁËÍõλ¡£¹þÄ·À³ÌصÄÊ常CaudiusÊǸö»µÍ¸¶¥Á˵ÄÈË¡£¹þÄ·À³ÌØÔòÊÇһλÓÐÀíÏë¡¢ÓеÀµÂµÄÈË£¬Ëû¾öÐÄҪΪ¸¸Ç×±¨³ð¡£ÎªÁ˲»±»¿´³öÀ´£¬Ëû×°³É·è×Ó¡£¹þÄ·À³ÌØÒªÎª¸¸Ç×±¨³ð£¬µ«ÖмäÓÐÆäĸÇ×´©²åÆä¼ä£¬ÕâʹËûÐÄÇ鼫Æä¸´ÔÓ£¬ÓÚÊÇÕûÈÕÐÄÇéÒÖÓô£¬²úÉúÁËÑáÊÀÇéÐ÷¡£ÓÚÊÇÕæµÄÓеã·è·èµßµßÁË¡£¾çÇéºÜÇúÕÛ£¬´ó¼Ò¿ÉÔÚ¿ÎÍâÕÒÓйØ×ÊÁ϶Á¡£ÍƼö¶Á¶ÁÓ¢ºº¶ÔÕÕ±¾¡¶É¯Ê¿±ÈÑÇÏ·¾ç¹ÊÊ¡·£¨Tales from Shakespeare, by Charles Lamb and Mary Lamb, ÏôǬ¡¢ÎĽàÈô·Òë¡£ÉÌÎñÓ¡Êé¹Ý1984Äê³ö°æ¡££© Õâ¶Î¶À°×¾ÍÊǹþÄ·À³ÌØÔÚ¼«¶ÈÀ§»ó¡¢²»ÖªËù´ëµÄÐÄÇéϵÀ³öµÄ£¬Ì¸µ½ÁËÉúÓëËÀ¡¢Ë¼¿¼ÓëÐж¯¡¢±¨¸´Óë¿íÈݵȵÈÈËÉúÖеÄÓÀºãì¶Ü£¬ÅúÅÐÁËÏÖʵÊÀ½çµÄºÚ°µ£¬¸»ÓÐÉî¿ÌµÄÕÜÀíÒâζ¡£³öÏÖÔÚÔ¾çµÚÈýÄ»µÚÒ»³¡¡£ ×¢ÊÍ£º slings and arrows of outrageous fortune: ¿ñ±©ÃüÔ˵Äʸʯ½»¹¥¡£sling: ͶʯÆ÷£¬µ¯ ¹£»Í¶ÖÀ£¬´ò»÷Ò»»÷. To die¡ªto sleep¡ªNo more£ºËÀ¾ÍÊÇ˯Ãߣ¬Èç´Ë¶øÒÑ¡£ by a sleep to say we end/The heartache£ºto say (that) by a sleep we end the heartache the thousand natural shocks/That flesh is heir to: ÎÞÊýÒª³ÐÊܵį¤ÈâÖ®¿à£¬Óë¡°heartache¡±Ïà¶Ô¡£Be heir to: Òª¼Ì³Ð»ò³ÐÊܵġ£ ¡¯tis a consummation/Devoutly to be wished. ÄÇÕýÊÇÇóÖ®²»µÃµÄÍêÃÀ½á¾Ö¡£Consummation£ºfinal settlement of everything. To sleep¡ªperchance to dream: ay, there¡¯s the rub! ˯ÃßÒ²ÐíÒª×öÃΣ¬àË£¬ÄǾͳÉÎÊÌâÁË¡£Perchance£ºperhaps. Rub: Ħ²Á£¬Õϰ¡£ For in that sleep of death what dreams may come/When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,/Must give us pause. ¡°what dreams may come¡± ÕâÒ»Ãû´Ê´Ó¾äÊÇÖ÷Ógive ÊÇνÓï¡£Shuffled off£º°ÚÍÑ£¬ÍÑÈ¥¡£mortal coil£ºearthly turmoil.ÈËÊÀµÄ·×ÈÅ¡£ There¡¯s the respect /That makes calamity of so long life. ÕâÒ»¹ËÂÇʹÂþ³¤ËêÔ³ÉÁËÔÖÄÑ¡£Respect: attention, consideration. ¹ËÂÇ£¬¿¼ÂÇ¡£¡±without respect to the results¡±²»¹Ëºó¹û¡£ the whips and scorns of time: ÈËÊÀµÄ±ÞÌ¢ºÍ³°Åª¡£Time: the times, ʱÊÀ The oppressor¡¯s wrong, the proud man¡¯ contumely: ѹÆÈÕßµÄÁèÈ裬°ÁÂýÕßµÄÀäÑÛ¡£ do sb. Wrong, do wrong to sb. Contumely [/k ] insolent treatment. ÎÞÀñ¶Ô´ý¡£ The pangs of despised love£ºÊ§ÁµµÄÍ´¿à¡£Pang£ºÍ´¿à¡£Despised Ö®ÖØÒôÔÚµÚÒ»Òô½Ú¡£ the spurns/That patient merit of the unworthy takes£ºÈÌÈõÄÓе²ÅÕß´ÓСÈËÄÇÀïÊܵ½µÄÅż·¡£Of: from; spurn: contemptuous rejection£¬Ò»½ÅÌß¿ª; the unworthy: СÈË¡£ Quietus [kai/i:t s]: acquittance, release, жȥ£¨ÒåÎñ¡¢ÔðÈΣ© A bare bodkin: a mere poniard. ¶Ì½££¬Ø°Êס£ Fardels: bundles, burdens. Grunt: groan, ºß£¬ÉëÒ÷. Bourn: ÁìÓò Conscience: ˼¿¼£¬¹ËÂÇ£¬Á¼ÐÄ¡£ sicklied o¡¯er£ºsickly: ʹ³öÏÖ²¡Ì¬ the pale cast of thought: ²Ò°×µÄÒ»²ã˼ÂǵIJ¡ÈÝ¡£Cast£ºtinge, shade of color. Thought: ˼ÂÇ£¬¹ËÂÇ£¬melancholy, despondency. pith and moment£ºvigour and importance. Pith: ÌåÁ¦¡¢ÆøÁ¦¡¢¾«Á¦£¬£¨ÎÄÕµģ©Á¦¡£1604Äê°æ±¾ÖÐpith×÷pitch: height with this regard: on this account ÄÚÈÝ·ÖÎö£ºÕâ¶Ï¶À°×ÊÇÇãËßÈËÉúµÄ¸ù±¾¿àÃÆºÍ»ù±¾Ã¬¶Ü¡£Êܵ½Ñ¹ÆÈÁË£¬Ó¦¸Ã·´¿¹£¬µ«ÍùÍù½á¹ûÊÇÊÊµÃÆä·´¡£ÊÂÊÂÈÌÈã¬È´ÓÖÐÄÖв»ÄÜÆ½ºâ¡£¸ÉÊÂÒµÐè¹û¶ÏÓÐÆÇÁ¦£¬µ«Ò²µÃÉî˼ÊìÂÇ£¬Èý˼¶øÐС£µ«ÊǹËÂÇÌ«¶à£¬ËõÊÖËõ½ÅÓÖ»áÆ£Èí£¬Ðж¯²»ÆðÀ´¡£ÈËÉúÔÚÊÀ£¬·³ÄÕ¿àÄѲ»Ò»¶ø×㣬µ«ËÀºóµÄÊÀ½çδ±È´Ë°¶ÊÀ½çºÃ£¨¹Å´úÈËÒ»°ãÏàÐÅÓб˰¶ÊÀ½ç ¡°a life in the world to come is taken for granted.¡± New Concept English, vol.4, lesson, 60.£©¡£ÈËÉú¾ÍÊÇÕâÑù³äÂúÁ˸÷ÖÖì¶ÜºÍÎÞÄΡ£ ÐÎʽ·ÖÎö£º ÕâÊÇɯʿ±ÈÑÇÏ·¾ç×îÖøÃû¶À°×(soliloquy)£¬ÓõÄÊÇÒÖÑï¸ñÎåÒô²½¡°°×ÌåÊ«¡±£¨BLANK VERSES£©¡£ To be, ©¦or not ©¦to be: ©¦that is ©¦the ques©¦tion: Whether©¦ ¡¯tis nob©¦ler in ©¦the mind ©¦to suf©¦fer The slings ©¦and ar©¦rows of©¦ outra©¦geous for©¦tune £¨ÒÔÉÏÈýÐжàÒ»Òô½Ú£¬Æäµ½³ÙÒÉ¡¢³Á˼µÄЧ¹û¡££© Or to©¦ take arms©¦against ©¦a sea ©¦of troubles, And by op©¦posing ©¦end them? ©¦To die¡ª©¦to sleep¡ª No more; ©¦and by©¦ a sleep ©¦to say ©¦we end The heart©¦ache, and©¦the thou©¦sand na©¦tural shocks That flesh©¦ is heir ©¦to. ¡¯tis©¦ a con©¦summa©¦tion Devout©¦ly to©¦ be wished. ©¦ To die©¦¡ªto sleep. To sleep©¦¡ªperchance ©¦to dream: ©¦ay, there¡¯s ©¦the rub! For in ©¦that sleep ©¦of death©¦what dreams ©¦may come When we©¦ have shuffled ©¦off this©¦ mortal ©¦coil, Must give©¦ us pause. ©¦ There¡¯s the ©¦respect That makes ©¦cala©¦mity ©¦of so ©¦long life. For who ©¦would bear©¦ the whips©¦ and scorns ©¦of time, The oppres©¦sor¡¯s wrong, ©¦the proud©¦ man¡¯ con©¦tumely, The pangs ©¦of des©¦pised love, ©¦the law¡¯s ©¦delay, The in©¦solence ©¦of of©¦fice, and ©¦the spurns That pa©¦tient me©¦rit of the ©¦unwor©¦thy takes, When he©¦ himself ©¦might his ©¦quie©¦tus make With a©¦ bare bod©¦kin? Who ©¦would far©¦dels bear, To grunt ©¦and sweat ©¦under©¦ a wea©¦ry life, But that©¦ the dread ©¦of some©¦thing af©¦ter death¡ª The un©¦disco©¦vered coun©¦try, from ©¦whose bourn No travel©¦ler re©¦turns¡ª©¦puzzles ©¦the will, And makes ©¦us ra©¦ther bear ©¦those ill ©¦we have Than fly©¦ to oth©¦ers that ©¦we know ©¦not of? Thus con©¦science does©¦ make co©¦wards of ©¦us all, And thus ©¦the na©¦tive hue ©¦of re©¦solu©¦tion Is sick©¦lied o¡¯er ©¦with the ©¦pale cast ©¦of thought, And en©¦terprises ©¦of great ©¦pith and©¦ moment With this©¦ regard ©¦their cur©¦rents turn©¦ awry And lose ©¦the name ©¦of ac©¦tion. ²Î¿¼ÒëÎÄ£º ¡°»îÏÂÈ¥»¹ÊDz»»î£ºÕâÊǸöÎÊÌ⡱ »îÏÂÈ¥»¹ÊDz»»î£¬ÕâÊǸöÎÊÌ⣻ Òª×öµ½¸ß¹ó£¬¾¿¾¹¸ÃÈÌÆøÍÌÉù À´ÈÝÊÜ¿ñ±©µÄÃüÔËʸʯ½»¹¥»÷ÄØ£¬ »¹ÊǸÃͦÉí·´¿¹ÎޱߵĿàÄÕ£¬ ɨËü¸ö¸É¾»£¿ËÀ£¬¾ÍÊÇ˯Ãß¡ª¡ª ¾ÍÕâÑù£»¶øÈç¹û˯Ã߾͵ÈÓÚÁ˽áÁË ÐÄÍ´ÒÔ¼°Ç§°ÙÖÖÉíÌåÒªµ£ÊÜµÄ Æ¤Í´ÈâÍ´£¬ÄǸÃÊÇÌì´óµÄºÃÊ£¬ ÕýÇóÖ®²»µÃ°¡£¡ËÀ£¬¾ÍÊÇ˯Ãߣ» ˯ÃßÒ²ÐíÒª×öÃΣ¬Õâ¾ÍÂé·³ÁË£¡ ÎÒÃÇÒ»µ©°ÚÍÑÁ˳¾ÊÀµÄÇ£²ø ÔÚËÀµÄ˯ÃßÀﻹ»á×öЩʲôÃΣ¬ Ò»Ïëµ½¾Í²»Äܲ»³ì³ù¡£ÕâÒ»µã¹ËÂÇ ÕýºÃʹÔÖÄѱä³ÉÁ˳¤ÆÚµÄÕÛÄ¥¡£ ˸ÊÐÄÈÌÊÜÈËÊÀµÄ±ÞÌ¢ºÍ³°Åª£¬ ÈÌÊÜѹÆÈÕßŰ´ý¡¢°ÁÂýÕßÁèÈ裬 ÈÌÊÜʧÁµµÄÍ´¿à¡¢·¨Í¥µÄÍÏÑÓ¡¢ ÑÃÃŵĺᱩ¡¢×öÂñÍ·¿à¸ÉµÄ´ó²Å ÊÜ×ùλµÄСÈËÒ»½ÅÌß³öÈ¥£¬ Èç¹ûËûÖ»Ïû×Ô¼ºÀ´Ê¹Ò»Ï¼⵶ ¾Í¿ÉÒԵõ½½âÍѰ¡£¿Ë¸ÊÐÄÌôµ£×Ó£¬ ÍÏ×ÅÆ£ÀÛµÄÉúÃü£¬ÉëÒ÷£¬Á÷º¹£¬ Òª²»ÊÇÅÂÒ»ËÀ¾ÍÈ¥ÁËûÓÐÈË»ØÀ´µÄ ÄǸö´Óδ·¢ÏֵĹúÍÁ£¬ÅÂÄÇ±ß »¹²»Öª»áÔõÑù£¬Òò´ËÒâÖ¾¶¯Ò¡ÁË£¬ Òò´Ë¾ÍÄþÔ¸ÈÌÊÜĿǰµÄÔÖÑ꣬ ` ¶ø²»Ô¸Í¶±¼ÁíһЩδ֪µÄ¿àÄÑ£¿ ÕâÑù×Ó£¬¹ËÂÇʹÎÒÃǶ¼³ÉÁËų·ò£¬ Ò²¾ÍÕâÑùÁË£¬¾ö¶Ï¾öÐеı¾É« ÃÉÉÏÁ˲Ұ׵ÄÒ»²ã˼ÂǵIJ¡ÈÝ£» ±¾¿ÉÒÔºäºäÁÒÁҵĴó×÷´óΪ£¬ ÓÉÓÚÕâÒ»µãÏ벻ͨ£¬¾Í³öÁ˱ðŤ£¬ ʧȥÁËÐж¯µÄÃû·Ý¡££¨±åÖ®ÁÕ£© 4 Spring Spring, the sweet spring, is the year¡¯s pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! ×¢ÊÍ£º the year¡¯s pleasant king£ºÒ»ÄêËļ¾ÖÐÒÔ´ºÌìΪ×î»¶ÀÖµÄʱÆÚ¡£King ¼´±ÈÓ÷»¶ÀÖÖ®×Ҳ¼æÖ¸Ò»ËêÖ®Êס£ Cold doth not sting£ºdoth£º¹ÅÓ¢Óïdo µÄµÚÈýÈ˳ÆÏÖÔÚÊÂ̬ÐÎʽ¡£ the pretty birds do thing£ºdo ÊÇΪÁËÔÏÂɵÄÐèÒª¶ø¼Ó½øÈ¥µÄ¡£ Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo£º Cuckoo, ²¼¹ÈÄñµÄ½ÐÉù£» jug-jug, ҹݺ£¨nightingale£©µÄ½ÐÉù£¬pu-we, ÌïÙ죨pewit£©µÄ½ÐÉù£¬to-witta-woo£¬·ºÖ¸¸÷ÖÖÄñÃù¡£ Palm: ר鵡£ÆäÖ¦Ò¶³£×÷ΪʤÀûµÄÏóÕ÷¡£ May£ºÉ½é«»¨¡£ÒòÔÚÎåÔÂÊ¢¿ª£¬¹ÊÃû may¡£ And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay£ºaye£º¹ÅÓ¢Ó︱´Ê£¬always£¬ ever¡£Tune£º¶¯´Ê£º³ª¡£ Lay ¸èÇú¡£ old wives a-sunning sit£ºsitÊÇνÓﶯ´Ê¡£ a-sunning£ºÉ¹Ì«Ñô£¬×÷×´Óï¡£a-×÷ÎªÌØÊâ½é´Ê£¬ºó¸ú¶¯Ãû´Ê£¬±íʾÔÚ½øÐÐʲô»î¶¯¡£Èç He went a-fishing. ÏÖ´ú˵·¨ÊÇ£ºHe went fishing. these tunes our ears do greet£ºthese tunes do greet our ears. ÄÚÈݽâÎö£º´ËÊ«½Ú×àÃ÷¿ì£¬ÐýÂÉÇ¿ÁÒ£¬Éú¶¯µØÃè»æ³öÁËÒ»·ù´º»Ø´óµØ£¬Éú»ú°ºÈ»µÄ»Ãæ¡£ ÐÎʽ½âÎö£ºÖ÷ÒªÊÇÑïÒÖ¸ñÎåÒô²½£¬ÔÏʽÊÇaaab, cccb, dddb. Èý½Ú×îºóÒ»ÐÐÊǵþ¾ä£¨refrain£©£»Ã¿½Ú³ýĩһÐÐÍ⣬ÆäËûÈýÐж¼ÓÃÐÐÄÚÔÏ£¨internal rhyme£©£¬¼´µÚ¶þÒô²½µÄµÚ¶þ¸ö´ÊͬµÚÎåÒô²½Ä©Î²µÄ´ÊгÔÏ¡£µþ¾ä£¨refrain£©: a phrase, line or lines repeated at the end of a stanza. Spring, the©¦ sweet spring, ©¦ is the ©¦year¡¯s plea©¦sant king; Then blooms ©¦each thing, ©¦ then maids©¦ dance in©¦ a ring, Cold doth©¦ not sting, ©¦the pret©¦ty birds ©¦do thing, Cuckoo, ©¦ jug-jug, ©¦ pu-we, ©¦to-wi©¦tta-woo! The palm©¦ and may©¦ make coun©¦try hou©¦ses gay, Lambs frisk ©¦and play, ©¦the she©¦pherds pipe ©¦all day, And we©¦ hear aye©¦ birds tune ©¦this mer©¦ry lay, Cuckoo, ©¦jug-jug, ©¦pu-we, ©¦to-wi©¦tta-woo! The fields ©¦breathe sweet, ©¦the dai©¦sies kiss ©¦our feet, Young lo©¦vers meet, ©¦ old wives ©¦a-sun©¦ning sit, In eve©¦ry street ©¦these tunes ©¦our ears©¦ do greet, Cuckoo, ©¦ jug-jug, ©¦pu-we, ©¦ to-wi©¦tta-woo! Spring! The ©¦sweet spring! Spring! The sweet spring! ²Î¿¼ÒëÎÄ£º£¨ÂÔ¡£¹ùÄÈôÓÐÒëÎÄ£¬ÒâÒ룬²Î¿¼¼ÛÖµ²»²»´ó¡££© John Milton (1608¡ª1674) ×÷Õß¼ò½é£ºÓ¢¹úÊ«ÈË£¬Ë¼Ïë¼Ò¡¢ÕþÂÛ¼Ò¡£´ÓСºÃѧ£¬¾³£¿ªÒ¹³µ£¬ËÄÊ®ÓàËêʧÃ÷¡£ÍíÄêÔÚʧÃ÷µÄÇé¿öÏ£¬Ð´³ÉÁËΰ´óÊ·Ê«¡¶Ê§ÀÖÔ°¡·£¨PARADISE LOST£©¡£ÆäÄÚÈÝÊÇÑÝÊö¡¶Ê¥¾¡·¹ÊÊ¡£¿ÉÓëºÉÂíµÄ¡¶ÒÁÀûÑÇÌØ¡·£¨Homer's Iliad£©¡¢µ«¶¡µÄ¡¶ÉñÇú¡·(Dante's Divine Comedy)ÏàæÇÃÀ¡£¡¶ÎåÔ³¿¸è¡·ÊÇÔçÆÚ×÷Æ·£¬³ÉÓÚ¶þʮһËêʱ£¬¸ñµ÷Ê®·ÖÇåС£ |

3Â¥2005-06-24 18:40:26
miketyson
½ð³æ (ÕýʽдÊÖ)
¦Ì=f/N
- Ó¦Öú: 29 (СѧÉú)
- ½ð±Ò: 1024.4
- É¢½ð: 18
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- Ìû×Ó: 476
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- ³æºÅ: 66789
- ×¢²á: 2005-05-03
- ÐÔ±ð: GG
- רҵ: ½ðÊô²ÄÁϵÄÄ¥ËðÓëĥʴ
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5 Song On May Morning Now the bright morning star, Day¡¯s harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song And welcome thee, and wish thee long. ×¢ÊÍ£º morning star: ÆôÃ÷ÐÇ¡¢Ì«°×ÐÇ¡¢³¤¸ýÐǵȡ£Ô糿ÔÚ¶«·½³öÏÖ¡£ÍíÉÏÔÚÎ÷·½³öÏÖ£¬½Ð³¤¸ý£¬Ó¢ÎÄ×÷¡°evening star¡±.¡£Í¬ÊÇÒ»¿ÅÐÇ£¬¼´Venus¡£ harbinger [/ha: bind ]Ïȵ¼£¬ÏÈÕ× primrose [/primroz] Ó£²Ý»¨£¬±¨´º»¨¡£ Bounteous [/baunti s] ¿¶¿®µÄ of thy dressing£ºdressed in thy fashion Dost£ºµÚ¶þÈ˳ÆÏÖÔÚʱµ¥Êý¡£¼´do Doth: Ò»°ãÓÃÓÚµÚÈýÈ˳Ƶ¥Êý£¬µ«ÃÖ¶û¶ÙÒ²³£³£ÓÃÓÚ¸´Êý¡£ÔÚËûµÄ×÷Æ·Öкܳ£¼û¡£ÖøÃûÓ¢Óïר¼Ò½ÅåÏÒ×ܽáÃÖ¶û¶ÙµÄÓïÑÔÌØµã£¬ÆäÖÐÒ»Ìõ¾ÍÊÇ ¡°singular verb for plural subject¡±¡£´ËÖÖÇé¿öÔÚɯʿ±ÈÑǵÄ×÷Æ·ÖÐÒ²²»Ê±ÄÜÓö¼û¡£ Long: long life. ÐÎʽ·ÖÎö£ºÒÖÑï¸ñ´©²åÑïÒÖ¸ñ£¨7¡¢8Á½ÐÐÊÇÑïÒÖ¸ñ£¬Å®ÔÏ£¬ÏÔµÃÊ®·ÖÇá¿ì£©¡£ÔÏʽΪaa£¬bb£¬cc£¬dd£¬ee¡£ Now the ©¦bright mor©¦ning star, ©¦ Day¡¯s har©¦binger, Comes dan©¦cing from ©¦the east, ©¦ and leads ©¦with her The flowe©¦ry May, ©¦who from ©¦her green ©¦lap throws The ye©¦llow cow©¦slip and ©¦the pale©¦ primrose. Hail, boun©¦teous May, ©¦that dost ©¦inspire Mirth, ©¦ and youth, ©¦and warm ©¦desire! Woods and ©¦groves are ©¦of thy ©¦dressing; Hill and ©¦dale doth©¦boast thy ©¦blessing. Thus we©¦ salute ©¦thee with ©¦our ear©¦ly song And wel©¦come thee, ©¦and wish ©¦thee long. ²Î¿¼ÒëÎÄ£º ¾§Ó¨µÄ³¿ÐÇ£¬°×ÈÕµÄÏÈÇý£¬ ËýÎ赸×Å´Ó¶«·½´øÀ´½¿Â£¬ °Ù»¨µÄÎåÔ£¬´ÓÂÌÉ«µÄ»³ÖÐÈöÏ ½ð»ÆÉ«µÄ¾ÅÂÖ»¨ºÍµºìµÄÓ£²Ý»¨¡£ »¶Ó£¬¸»ÀöµÄÎåÔ°¡£¬Ä㼤Ñï »¶ÀÖ¡¢Çà´ººÍÈÈÇéµÄÏ£Íû£» ÁÖľ¡¢Ê÷´ÔÊÇÄãµÄ×°Êø£¬ ɽÁꡢϪ¹È¿ä˵ÄãµÄÐÒ¸£¡£ ÎÒÃÇÒ²ÓÃÇ峿µÄ¸èÇúÏòÄãÀñÔÞ£¬ »¶ÓÄ㣬²¢ÇÒ×£¸£ÄãÓÀºãÎޱߣ¡ Alexander Pope (1688¡ª1744) ×÷Õß¼ò½é£ºÆÑ²®ÊÇ18ÊÀ¼ÍÓ¢¹ú×îÖØÒªµÄÊ«ÈË¡£×÷Æ·ºÜ¶à¡£Ëû»¹ÓÃÓ¢ÐÛË«ÐÐÌåÊ«·ÒëÁ˺ÉÂíÊ·Ê«¡£ÎÄѧÉϳçÉо«µñϸ×Á£¬ÊÇйŵäÖ÷ÒåµÄ´óʦ¡£ÉíÌå²»ºÃ£¬ÖÕÉíδ»é¡£ËûµÄ¸¸Ä¸ÊÇÌìÖ÷½Ìͽ£¬µ±Ê±ÌìÖ÷½ÌͽÊÇÊÜÆÈº¦µÄ¡£Ò»Éú»ù±¾ÉϹýµÄÊÇÒþ¾ÓÈÕ×Ó¡£¡¶¶À´¦ËС·ÊÇÆäÔçÆÚ×÷Æ·¡£×Ô³ÆÐ´ÓÚ12Ëêʱ¡£ 6 Solitude Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, £¨acres[/eik ]£© Content to breathe his native air In his own ground. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern¡¯dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day, Sound sleep by night; study and ease Together mix¡¯d; sweet creation; And innocence, which most does please With meditation. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; Thus unlamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie. ×¢ÊÍ: the first stanza can be rewritten like this: the man is happy, whose wish and care are bound by a few paternal acres, and who is content to breathe his native air in his own ground. ÆäÒâ˼Ï൱ÓÚ¡¶ÖÐÓ¹¡·ÉÏËù˵µÄ¡°¾ý×ÓËØÎ»¶øÐУ¬²»Ô¸ºõÆäÍâ¡£¡±Jude The Obscure ÖÐÓÐÒ»¾ä»°Ëµ£ºa contented mind is a continual feast.(Jude the Obscure.P378) Whose herds with milk, /whose fields with bread,/Whose flocks supply him with attire; ǰÁ½ÐÐÊ¡ÂÔÁË¡°supply him with¡±¡£Attire£º·þ×°¡£ unconcern¡¯dly£¬¼´unconcernedly£ºÂþ²»¾ÐÄ£¬ÎÞÓÇÎÞÂÇ£¬ÓÆÈ»×ԵᣵÚÈý½Ú¿ÉÒÔ¸Äд³É£ºBlest is the man who can unconcern¡¯dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away In health of body and in peace of mind Ï൱ÓÚ¡° I see him leave.¡±ÕâÑùµÄ¾ä×Ó¡£ study and ease /Together mix¡¯d; sweet creation;/And innocence, which most does please/With meditation. ËûÀÍÒݽáºÏ£¬ÓÐÁîÈË»¶Ï²µÄÓéÀֻ£¬»¹ÓÐÌìÕæµÄÐÔÇé¡£ÕâÌìÕæµÄÐÔÇéÓë³Á˼½áºÏÆðÀ´£¬×îʹËû¸ßÐË¡£ ÄÚÈݽâÎö£º±Ü¿ª³¾ÊÀµÄ·³ÈÅ£¬ÓëÊÀÎÞÕù£¬Ç±ÐÄѧÊõ£¬²¢ÓÆÈ»×ԵõØÏíÊÜÌïÔ°Éú»î£¬ÕâÊÇ×îÐÒ¸£µÄ¡£Ó롶ׯ×Ó¡·¡°Ìñµ¼ÅᣬÐéÎÞÎÞΪ¡±£¨¡¶¿ÌÒâ¡·£©Ö®ËµÓÐÏàËÆÖ®´¦¡£ÌÕÔ¨Ã÷Óм¸¾äÊ«¿ÉÒÔÓë´ËÊ«Ïà²Î£º¡°Ï¢½»ÓÎÏÐÒµ£¬ÎÔÆðŪÊéÇÙ¡£Ô°ÊßÓÐÓà×Ì£¨Éú³¤µÃºÜ¶à¡£×Ì£ºÉú³¤£©£¬¾É¹ÈÓÌ´¢½ñ¡£Óª¼ºÁ¼Óм«£¬¹ý×ã·ÇËùÇÕ¡£ô©ïø×÷ÃÀ¾Æ£¬¾ÆÊìÎá×ÔÕå¡£Èõ×ÓÏ·ÎҲ࣬ѧÓïδ³ÉÒ÷¡£´ËÊÂÕæ¸´ÀÖ£¬ÁÄÓÃÍü»ªô¢£¨±ÈÓ÷¸ß¹Ùºñ»£©¡£¡±£¨¡¶ºÍ¹ùÖ÷±¡¡·ÆäÒ»£© ÐÎʽ½âÎö£º´ËÊ«Îå½Ú£¬Ã¿½ÚËÄÐС£ÔÏβÊÇabab¡£½Ú×àÖ÷ÒªÊÇËÄÒô²½ÒÖÑï¸ñ(i/ambic te/trameter)£¬Ã¿½ÚËÄÒô²½£º Happy ©¦the man, ©¦ whose wish ©¦and care A few ©¦pater©¦nal a©¦cres bound, Content©¦ to breathe ©¦his na©¦tive air In his ©¦own ground. Whose herds ©¦with milk, ©¦whose fields ©¦with bread, Whose flocks ©¦supply ©¦him with©¦ attire; Whose trees©¦ in sum©¦mer yield©¦ him shade, In win©¦ter fire. Blest, who ©¦can un©¦concern¡¯d©¦ly find Hours, days, ©¦and years ©¦slide soft©¦ away In health©¦ of bo©¦dy, peace©¦ of mind, Quiet ©¦by day, Sound sleep©¦ by night; ©¦ study©¦ and ease Toge©¦ther mix¡¯d; ©¦ sweet cre©¦ation; And in©¦nocence, ©¦ which most ©¦does please With me©¦ditation. Thus let ©¦me live, ©¦unseen, ©¦unknown; Thus un©¦lamen©¦ted let©¦ me die; Steal from ©¦the world, ©¦ and not©¦ a stone Tell where ©¦I lie. ²Î¿¼ÒëÎÄ£º ÈËÉúÈçºÎ·½ÎªÀÖ£¬Î¨ÓÐÖª×㲻̰ÐÄ¡£ Ö»ÊØ×æÉÏÊýĶÌµ«Îü¹ÊÔ°ÆøÇåС£ ÃàÑò²úÃ«ÖÆÉÀÅÛ£¬ÈéÅ£¸ûµØ¹©Ê³Òû¡£ ÏÄÀ´ÃÜÒ¶³ËŨÒñ£¬¶¬ÖÁÊèÖ¦×ö²ñн¡£ Ò»ÈÎËêÔÂÇáÇáÈ¥£¬ÄÇ¿°ÓÇ˼´¦´¦Ñ°¡£ °×ÈÕÏÐÒÝÒ¹°²Ãߣ¬Ò»ÉíÇ¿½¡ÐÄÆøÆ½¡£ ¶ÁÊéÀÍÒÝÏà½áºÏ£¬ÓéÀÖÌðÃÀÔÃÈËÐÄ¡£ ×î¼Ñʤ¾°ÓÐڤ˼£¬¼«ÀÖÊÀ½çÊôÌìÕæ¡£ ËÀºó²»ÊÜÊÀ°§µ¿£¬ÉúʱÆñÁîÈ˼ûÎÅ¡£ ÓÄÓÄ͵´Ç×ÇÊÀÈ¥£¬²»ÃúºÎ´¦ÔáÎÒÉí¡££¨Ê¯z£© Robert Burns (1759¡ª1796) ÂÞ²®ÌØ•Åí˹£¬ËÕ¸ñÀ¼Ê«ÈË¡£³öÉíÓÚÆ«Æ§Ïç´å¡£ËûµÄÊ«¸è³ä·ÖÎüÊÕÁËËÕ¸ñÀ¼Ãñ¸è³É·Ö£¬ÈÈÇé±¼·Å£¬ÓÅÃÀ¶¯Ìý£¬±»ÓþΪΰ´óµÄËÕ¸ñÀ¼Ãñ×åÊ«ÈË¡£19ÊÀ¼ÍÓ¢¹úÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåÊ«¸èÔ˶¯µÄÏÈÇý¡£ËûµÄһЩʫ¸è±»Æ×д³É¸èÇú£¬¹ãΪÁ÷´«¡£Èç¡¶ÓÑÒêµØ¾ÃÌ쳤¡·£¨Auld[o: ld] Lang Syne[sain]: old long then: long ago.£©¡¢¡¶ÎÒµÄÐÄÔÚ¸ßÔ¡·(My heart's in the high lands)µÈ¡£ 7 A Red, Red Rose O, my Luve¡¯s like a red, red rose, That¡¯s newly sprung in June. O, my Luve¡¯s like the melodie, That¡¯s sweetly play¡¯d in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in Luve am I, And I will love thee still, my dear, Till a¡¯ the seas gang dry! Till a¡¯ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi¡¯ the sun! And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o¡¯ life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve! And fare thee weel, a while! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho¡¯ it were ten thousand mile! ×¢ÊÍ£º Luve¡¯s = Love is melodie = melody£¬ÌðÃ۵ĸèÇú play¡¯d in tune = played in tune¡£³ªµÃºÏÅÄ¡£ As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,/ So deep in Luve am I: Bonnie: beautiful. Lass[laes]: girl, maiden.¿É¸ÄдΪ£ºas you are fair, my bonnie lass, so I am deep in love. ÄãÄÇôÃÀ£¬ÎÒÒ²ÄÇô°®Äã¡£ÎÒ°®ÄãµÄ³Ì¶ÈÓëÄãÃÀµÄ³Ì¶È³ÉÕý±È¡£So µÄÒâ˼ÊÇ¡°in the same proportion", "in like manner", "in the same way". Another example: As you treat me, so I will treat you. I will love thee still = I will always love thee. Till a¡¯ the seas gang dry: a¡¯ = all. gang = go. wi¡¯ = with. While the sands¡¯ o¡¯ life shall run: Ö»ÒªÎÒÉúÃü²»Ï¢¡£o¡¯= of¡£sands o¡¯ life£ºÉ³Â©¡£¹Å´úÈËÃÇÔÚʱÖÓ·¢Ã÷ǰ£¬Óò£Á§Æ÷Ãóʢɳ£¬Ê¹É³´ÓС¿×ÖЩ¹ý£¬ÒԴ˼ÆÊ±¡£Òò´ËÊ«È˳£ÓÃɳ©ÖеÄɳ±ÈÓ÷ÈËÉú¡£ fare thee weel£ºgoodbye.¡£Weel[wi:l] = well. Farewell: "proceed happily". Goodbye: ±¾À´ÊÇ"God be wy ye"(God be with you), ºóËõд³É"God-bye", ºóÀ´ÎªÓë"good day"¡¢¡°good night" Ò»ÖÂ, "God bye" ÓָijÉÁË"goodbye". Tho¡¯ = though ÄÚÈݽâÎö£º ÕâÊÇÅí˹×îÓÐÃûµÄ°®ÇéÊ«£¬½Ú×àÇ¿ÁÒ£¬¼¤ÇéÅìÅÈ£¬ºÜÓиÐȾÁ¦¡£µ«ÊÇ´ËÊ«Ëù±í´ïµÄ¸ÐÇéËÆºõ²»Ì«Éî¿Ì£¬Æä°®ÇéËÆºõ´¿´âÊǽ¨Á¢ÔÚÈÝÃÀòµÄ´¡Éϵġ£ÈÝòһ˥ÍË£¬ºÜÄѱ£Ö¤º£¿ÝʯÀò»±äÐÄ¡£ÁíÒ»Ó¢¹úÊ«È˼Ö³(Thomas Carew, 1594---1640)ÓÐÒ»Ê×ÃûThe True BeautyµÄÊ«£¬¿ÉÄÃÀ´¶ÔÅí˹µÄÕâÊ×Ê«×÷×¢½Å£º He that loves a rosy cheek Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires; As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires:---- Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes. £¨smooth and steadfast mind£ºÐÔÇéκ͡¢ÒâÖ¾¼á¶¨¡£Hearts with equal love combined£ºÕý³£ÓïÐòΪ£ºhearts combined with equal love.ÄÜÒ»ÊÓͬÈʵÄÐÄÁé¡££© Åí˹˵ËûµÄ°®ÈËÈçͬõ¹å»¨Ò»ÑùÃÀ£¬ËûµÄ°®ÓëÆä°®È˵ÄÃÀÀö³ÉÕý±È£¬¼Ö³·´¹ýÀ´Ëµ£¬Ë×·Çóõ¹å»¨Ò»ÑùµÄÈÝò£¬ËµÄ°®ÇéµÄË¥Í˳̶ÈÓë¾ÍÈÝò˥Àϵij̶ȳÉÕý±È¡£¼Ö³½²µÄËäÈ»ÓеÀÀí£¬ËûµÄ̬¶ÈÒ²ºÜ¿ÉÈ¡£¬µ«ÊÇÊÀÉϵÄÈËÏñ¼Ö³ÄÇÑùµÄºÜÉÙ£¬ÏàÅí˹ÕâÑùµÄÈËÔò¶à²»Ê¤Êý¡££¨Åí˹ÊǸö³ÁÄçÓÚÃÀ¾Æ¡¢Ê«¸èºÍ°®ÇéµÄÈË£©¡£È˵ĸÐÇéÍùÍùÄܳ寯ÀíÖǵÄ˵½Ì£¬¼´Ê¹ÕâÖÖ°®Çé²»Ò»¶¨Äܳ¤¾Ã£¬ÈËÃÇÍùÍùҲҪ׷ÇóËü¡£ËùÒÔ²»ÄÜÒÔ˵½ÌµÄÐÄ̬·ñ¶¨Ê«¸èµÄÒÕÊõ¼ÛÖµ¡£ ÐÎʽ·ÖÎö£º»ù±¾ÉÏÊÇÒÖÑï¸ñ£¬Ã¿½Ú¶þ¡¢ËÄÁ½ÐÐѺÔÏ¡£ O, my ©¦Luve¡¯s like ©¦a red, ©¦red rose, That¡¯s new©¦ly sprung ©¦in June. O, my ©¦Luve¡¯s like©¦ the me©¦lodie, That¡¯s sweet©¦ly play¡¯d ©¦in tune. As fair©¦ art thou, ©¦my bon©¦nie lass, So deep©¦ in Luve©¦ am I, And I ©¦will love ©¦thee still, ©¦my dear, Till a¡¯ ©¦the seas ©¦gang dry! Till a¡¯ ©¦ the seas ©¦gang dry, ©¦my dear, And the rocks ©¦melt wi¡¯ ©¦the sun! And I©¦ will love ©¦thee still, ©¦my dear, While the sands©¦ o¡¯ life ©¦shall run. And fare©¦ thee weel, ©¦my on©¦ly Luve! And fare©¦ thee weel, ©¦ a while! And I©¦ will come ©¦again, ©¦ my Luve, Tho¡¯ it were ©¦ten thous©¦and mile! |

4Â¥2005-06-24 18:41:21
miketyson
½ð³æ (ÕýʽдÊÖ)
¦Ì=f/N
- Ó¦Öú: 29 (СѧÉú)
- ½ð±Ò: 1024.4
- É¢½ð: 18
- ºì»¨: 4
- Ìû×Ó: 476
- ÔÚÏß: 172.7Сʱ
- ³æºÅ: 66789
- ×¢²á: 2005-05-03
- ÐÔ±ð: GG
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William Wordsworth (1770¡ª1850) »ª×È»ªË¹£¨ä××Ìä×˹£©£¬Ó¢¹úÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåʱÆÚµÄ´óÊ«ÈË£¬ºþãúÊ«ÈË£¨LAKE POETS£©Ö®Êס£1843ÄêÈÙ»ñ¹ð¹ÚÊ«È˳ƺţ¨Poet Laureate£©¡£ºþÅÏÊ«ÈËÊÇÊ®¾ÅÊÀ¼ÍÓ¢¹úµÄÒ»¸öÊ«¸èÁ÷ÅÉ£¬ÕâЩÈËÔÚÓ¢¸ñÀ¼Î÷±±²¿µÄºþÇø£¨Lake district£©¾Óס¡¢Ð´×÷¡£ÆäÖ÷Òª³ÉÔ±³ý»ª×È»ªË¹Í⣬ÉÐÓпÂÀÕÂÉÖΣ¨Samuel Taylor Coleridge£©¡£»ª×È»ªË¹¶Ô´ó×ÔÈ»ÇéÓжÀÖÓ£¬¾³£È¥¸÷µØÂÃÐÐÂþÓΣ¬¶Ô×ÔÈ»·ç¹âºÍÌïÔ°Éú»îÓжÀÌØµÄ¸ÐÊÜ¡£ËûµÄÊ«µÄÌØµãÊÇͨ¹ýÃèдÈÕ³£Éú»îÖÐµÄÆ½·²³¡¾°¼¤·¢ÐÄÁéÉî´¦µÄ¸ÐÊÜ£¬±íÏÖÈËÐÔÖÐտɯÃÀ¡£ËزĶàΪ×ÔÈ»·ç¹â¡¢ÌïÔ°Éú»îºÍËØÆÓµÄÅ©Ãñ¡£ÓïÑÔ¼òÃ÷£¬ÇéÕæÒâÇС£¶ÁÖ®ÄÜʹÈ˲úÉúÎÞ¾¡µÄåÚ˼¡¢¾«ÉñÉÏÄÜÊܵ½ÓÐÁ¦µÄÌÕÒ±¡£ Ó¢¹úÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåÔ˶¯Ê±¼ä½éÓÚ1790-1830£¬×îÖØÒªµÄ´ú±íÈËÎïÓÐÁù£ºWilliam Blake, William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Lord Byron, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and John Keats. ×÷Æ·ÌØµã£ºÐÎʽ±È½Ï×ÔÓÉ£¬ÏëÏó·á¸»£¬ÇãÏòÃèд¹Â¶ÀµÄ¸öÈ˵ľ«ÉñÊÀ½çºÍ´ó×ÔÈ»¡£'Poery is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings'----Wordsworth. 8 I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud (The Daffodils) I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o¡¯er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company: I gazed ¡ª and gazed ¡ª but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasures fills, And dances with the daffodils. ×¢ÊÍ£ºo'er: over. Pronounced as [/o ], counted as one syllable. The waves beside them danced, but they\ Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: ËäÈ»ÀË»¨Ò²ÔÚÆðÎ裬µ«ÊÇË®ÏÉ»¨µÄ»¶ÀÖ³¬¹ýÁËÀË»¨µÄ»¶ÀÖ¡£in glee, ¾Í»¶ÀÖ¶øÑÔ£¬ÔÚ»¶ÀÖÉÏ¡£in ÓÐas to, as regards ÕâÑùµÄÓ÷¨, ±íʾ'ÔÚ•••·½Ãæ'¡£È磺weak in judgment; they are equal in length. ÓÐÈË×¢½â´ËÊ«£¬ÈÏΪin gleeÊǽé´Ê¶ÌÓï×÷¶¨ÓïÐÞÊÎwaves µÄ£¬ÕâÑùҲͨ£¬µ«²»ÈçÊÓΪ״ÓïÐÞÊÎÈ«¾äΪºÃ¡£ Sprightly: Çá¿ìµØ£¬»îÆÃµØ¡£ Could not but: but: other than, except. But ÓÃÔÚ·ñ¶¨´Êºó£¬¹¹³ÉË«ÖØ·ñ¶¨¡£È磺there is no one but hopes rich. £¨Ã»Óв»Ïë·¢²ÆµÄÈË£©There is no one but knows that.£¨ÄǼþÊÂÎÞÈ˲»Öª¡££© Jocund: lit. & poet: merry, cheerful. Couch£ºË¯ÒΣ¬´²¡£ And then my heart with pleasures fills£ºmy heart fills with pleasures. Fill ¿ÉÓÃΪ²»¼°Îﶯ´Ê£¬Òâ˼ÊÇ¡°Âú¡±¡£Èçthe house fills (with children). They flash upon that inward eye | Which is the bliss of solitude£ºÕ¿È»µÄÐÄÁéÊÇÓľӲÅÄÜÓеĸ£·Ö¡£ÒòΪÐÄÁ黨¹éÆä×ÔÎÒÊÇÒ»Öָ߼¶µÄ¾«ÉñÏíÊÜ£¬ËùÒÔÈç´Ë˵¡£ ÄÚÈÝ£º´ËÊ«ÊÇÊ«ÈË1804Äê»ØÒäÁ½ÄêǰÔÚÓ¢¸ñÀ¼ºþÇøÂþÓÎʱ¿´µ½Ò»´óƬˮÏɵÄÇ龰ʱд³ÉµÄ¡£ºó¾¶à´ËÐ޸㬵½1815Äê²Å×îÖÕ¶¨ÐÍ¡£µ±Ê±µÄÇé¾°ÉîÉîµØÒòÔÚÁËËûÐÄÁéÉî´¦£¬ÓľӶÀ´¦Ê±£¬¾ÍÔÚÐÄÖÐÏÔÏÖ³öÀ´£¬¸øËû´øÀ´Î¿¼®¡£¿É¼ûÊ«È˶Ô×ÔÈ»µÄÏòÍù¡£ÎÒÃǶÁÖ®£¬ÓÌÈç½øÈëÁË¿ÕÃ÷½à¾»µÄÊÀ½ç¡£ ÐÎʽ£ºÈ«Ê«ËĽڣ¬Ã¿½ÚµÄÔÏʽÊÇababcc¡£ÔÏÂÉ»ù±¾ÉÏÊÇÒÖÑï¸ñËÄÒô²½¡£ I wan|dered lone|ly as| a cloud That floats |on high |o¡¯er vales |and hills, When all |at once |I saw| a crowd, A host, |of gold|en da|ffodils; Beside |the lake, |beneath| the trees, Fluttering |and dancing |in the breeze. Conti|nuous as |the stars |that shine And twink|le on |the mil|ky way, They stretched |in ne|ver-en|ding line Along |the mar|gin of| a bay: Ten thou|sand saw |I at| a glance, Tossing |their heads |in spright|ly dance. The waves| beside| them danced, |but they Out-did |the spark|ling waves |in glee: A po|et could |not but |be gay In such |a jo|cund com|pany: I gazed ¡ª|and gazed |¡ª but litt|le thought What wealth |the show |to me |had brought: For oft, | when on |my couch |I lie In va|cant or |in pen|sive mood, They flash |upon| that in|ward eye Which is| the bliss |of so|litude; And then| my heart| with plea|sures fills, And dan|ces with |the da|ffodils. 9 The Solitary Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands; A voice so thrilling ne¡¯er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? ¡ª Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago; Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate¡¯er the theme, the Maiden sang As if her song could have no ending; I saw her singing at her work, And o¡¯er the sickle bending; ¡ª I listen¡¯d, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more. ×¢ÊÍ£º Yon£ºyonder£¬ÄDZߵģ¬Ô¶´¦µÄ¡£ No Nightingale did ever chaunt\More welcome notes to weary bands\ Of travellers in some shady haunt,\Among Arabian sands;:¼´Ê¹ÔÚÈ˼ʺ±ÖÁµÄ°¢À²®É³Ä®µÄÓݵ֮´¦£¬Ò¹ÝºÒ²²»ÔøÎªÆ£±¹µÄÐÐÈ˳ª¹ýÈç´Ë¶¯È˵ĸèÇú¡£Chaunt: chantµÄ±äÌå¡£ A voice so thrilling ne¡¯er was heard\In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,\Breaking the silence of the seas: In spring-time , a voice so thrilling was never heard from the Cuckoo-bird, whose song breaks the silence of the seas among the farthest Hebrides. Hebrides[/hebridi:z]ºÕ²¼Àïµ×Ⱥµº[Ó¢¹úËÕ¸ñÀ¼Î÷²¿] Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow\For old, unhappy, far-off things,\And battles long ago;\Or is it some more humble lay,\Familiar matter of to-day?\Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,\That has been, and may be again? Ò²ÐíÕâÆàÍñµÄ¸èÉùÊÇӽ̾¹ÅÀϵġ¢Ò£Ô¶µÄ±¯»¶ÀëºÏ£¬ºÍºÜ¾ÃÒÔǰµÄÕ÷Õ½£¬ÒªÃ´ÊÇһֻƽ·²µÄÇú×Ó£¬³ªµÄÊǽñÌìÈÕ³£Ð¡Ê£¬»òÕßÊÇÄÇÐ©Ôø¾Óйý¶øÇÒ¿ÉÄܼÌÐø³öÏֵġ¢³£¼ûµÄÓÇÉË¡¢Ê§ÒâºÍÍ´¿à£¿ I saw her singing at her work,\And o¡¯er the sickle bending; I saw her singing at her work and when she is bending over the sickle. And, as I mounted up the hill, \The music in my heart I bore,\Long after it was heard no more. µ½ÎÒµÇÉÏÁËɽ¸Úʱ£¬ËäÈ»ÄǸèÉùÔçÒÑÌý²»¼ûÁË£¬µ«»¹ÊÇÔÚÎÒÐĵ׻ØÏì¡£Bear: ¸ºµ££¬µ£¸º£¬´øÉÏ¡£ ÄÚÈÝ£º´ËʫдµÄÊÇËÕ¸ñÀ¼¸ßÔµØÇøÒ»Å©¼ÒÉÙÅ®¶À×ÔÔÚÌï¼äÀͶ¯¸è³ªµÄÇé¾°¡£´ËÒ»Çé¾°ÉîÉîµØ´¥¶¯ÁËÊ«È˵ÄÐÄÏÒ¡£ÎªÁËÈÃÕâ´¾ÆÓÇÚÀ͵ÄÅ®º¢¾¡Ç鵨¸è³ª¡¢¾¡Ç鵨Êã·¢ËýµÄÄÚÐĵÄÊÀ½ç£¬Ê«È˲»ÈÌÐľª¶¯Ëý£¬ËûÏ룬Ҫô¾Í´ËÖ¹²½£¬ÒªÃ´ÇÄÇÄ×ß¿ª¡£Ò¹Ýº¡¢²¼¹ÈÄñµÄ¸èÉùÊÇÌìô¥Ö®Éù£¬Ê«ÈË˵¸îÂóÅ®µÄ¸èÉù±Èҹݺ¡¢²¼¹ÈÄñµÄ¸èÉù»¹Òª¶¯ÈË£¬±íÃûÆä¸èÉùÊÇ´¿Õæ¶ø×ÔÈ»µÄ¡£Å©¼ÒÅ®º¢Ã»ÓÐÊܵ½³ÇÊÐÉú»îµÄÎÛȾ£¬Èç¡°ÇåË®³öÜ½ÈØ£¬ÌìȻȥµñÊΡ±£¬¶À×ÔÒ»ÈËÔÚ¿Õ¿õµÄÌïÒ°£¬Ïò´ó×ÔÈ»ÇãËßÖÔÇ飬µ±È»»á´ò¶¯ÏòÍù´ó×ÔÈ»µÄÊ«ÈË¡£½ñÌ죬¸¡Î±Ö®·ç±ÈÆäÒ»°Ù¶àÄêǰʫÈËËù´¦µÄÄǸöʱ´ú£¬¸üÀ÷º¦²»Öª¶àÉÙ±¶£¬Òò¶ø´ËÊ«ËùÃèдµÄÇé¾°¸üÄÜÒýÆðÈËÃǵÄåÚ˼ÉñÍù¡£´ËÊ«µÄÒâ¾³¿ÕÁ鯮ÒÝ£¬¸ÐÇé¸ß½àÕæÖ¿£¬¼«¸»ÀËÂþÆøÏ¢£¬Ã»ÓÐË¿ºÁÓ¹Ë×Çéµ÷¡£ ÐÎʽ£º´ËÊ«ËĽڣ¬Ã¿½Ú°ËÐУ¬³ýµÚËÄÊÇÈýÒô²½Í⣬ÆäÓàÆßÐж¼ÊÇËÄÒô²½¡£ÒÖÑï¸ñ¡£Ã¿½ÚµÄÔÏʽΪ ababccdd Behold| her, sing|le in |the field, Yon so|lita|ry High|land lass! Reaping |and sing|ing by |herself; Stop here, |or gent|ly pass! Alone |she cuts |and binds| the grain, And sings |a me|lancho|ly strain; O li|sten! for| the Vale |profound Is ov|erflow|ing with| the sound. No Nigh|tingale |did ev|er chaunt More wel|come notes |to wea|ry bands Of travel|lers in |some sha|dy haunt, Among| A/ra|bian sands; A voice| so thril|ling ne¡¯er |was heard In spring|-time from| the Cu|ckoo-bird, Breaking |the si|lence of| the seas Among |the far|thest He|brides. Will no |one tell| me what |she sings? ¡ª Perhaps |the plain|tive num|bers flow For old, | unhap|py, far-|off things, And ba|ttles long |ago; Or is |it some| more hum|ble lay, Fami|liar mat|ter of |to-day? Some na|tural sor|row, loss, | or pain, That has |been, and| may be| again? Whate¡¯er |the theme, |the Mai|den sang As if| her song |could have |no ending; I saw| her sing|ing at| her work, And o¡¯er |the sick|le bending; ¡ª I li|sten¡¯d, mo|tionless| and still; And, as |I moun|ted up |the hill, The mu|sic in| my heart |I bore, Long af|ter it| was heard |no more. |

5Â¥2005-06-24 18:42:00
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George Gordon Byron [/bai r n](1788¡ª1824) ÇÇÖΕ¸êµÇ•°ÝÂ×ÊÇÖØÒªÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåÊ«ÈË£¬µ«ÊÇÓ뻪×È»ªË¹ÎªÊ׵ĺþÅÏÊ«ÈËÓв»Í¬¡£°ÝÂ×ÕþÖÎÉϺܼ¤½ø£¬·´¶Ô´«Í³£¬Ö÷ÕŸïÃü£¬ÎªÈ˷ŵ´²»î¿£¬ÊÇËùν»ý¼«ÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåÕß¡£»ª×È»ªË¹Ö÷ÕŻعé×ÔÈ»£¬Î¬»¤´«Í³¼ÛÖµ£¬ÊÇËùνÏû¼«ÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåÕß¡£°ÝÂ×¶ÔºþÅÏÊ«È˽øÐйý¹¥»÷¡£Æäʵ£¬°ÝÂ×Ö»ÊÇÒ»¸ö³öÉ«µÄÊ«ÈË£¬ÔÚÕþÖÎ˼ÏëÉÏÊÇ·ôdzµÄ¡£°ÝÂ׵ijÉÃû×÷ÊÇ¡¶Ç¡¶ûµÂ•¹þÂå¶ûµÂÓμǡ·£¨Childe Harold's Pilgrimage,1809-1818£©£¬×îÓÐÓ°ÏìµÄÖø×÷ÊÇ¡¶Ìƕ諡·(Don Juan,1819-1824)¡£´ËÍ⻹Óв»ÉÙÊãÇéÊ«µÈ¡£¡¶Ç¡¶ûµÂ•¹þÂå¶ûµÂÓμǡ·£¨ÑîÎõÁäÒ룬1959ÄêÉϺ£ÎÄÒÕ³ö°æÉç¡££©ÊÇÒ»²¿Ððʳ¤Ê«£¬ÊÇÃèд×÷ÕßÓÎÀúÅ·ÖÞ¸÷¹úµÄÊãÇéÈռǣ¬ÓÉÒ»¸ö»ÒÐÄʧÍûµÄ¹ó×åÇàÄê¹þÂ޵½«È«Ê«Çé½Ú¹á´©ÆðÀ´¡£¡¶ÌÆè«¡·[don/d u: n]Ò²ÊÇÒ»²¿Ððʳ¤Ê«£¬Ð´µÄÊÇÅ·ÖÞ´«ËµÖеĴ«ÆæÈËÎïÌÆè«ÀËÂþðÏÕ¾Àú£¬Î´Íê³É¡£¹ØÓÚÌÆè«Õâ¸öÈËÎŷÖÞ¸÷¹úÓкܶà×÷Æ·¡£ÄªÔúÌØÓÐÒ»²¿¸è¾ç¼´Ãû¡¶ÌÆè«¡·¡£ ÎÒÃÇËùÑ¡µÄÕâÊס¶»¬Ìú¬ǰҹ¡·ÊÇ¡¶Óμǡ·ÖÐµÄÆ¬¶Î(Canto III, stanzas 21, 22, 24, 25.)£¬¼ÇÊöµÄÊÇ»¬Ìú¬֮ս±¬·¢Ç°Ï¦±ÈÀûʱÊ×¶¼²¼Â³Èû¶û£¨Brussels, Belgium£©ÉϲãÈËʿäĿ¸èÎè¿ñ»¶µÄ³¡Ãæ¡£»¬Ìú¬ÊÇλÓÚ±ÈÀûʱÊ×¶¼ÒÔÄÏÔ¼20¹«ÀïµÄÒ»¸ö´åׯ£¬1815ÄêÓ¢¾üÔÚ´ËפÔú¡£ÂÀÏ£Ãɹ«¾ô·òÈËÉèÑç¿î´ýÓ¢¾ü½«Ê¿£¬ÄÃÆÆÂØ³ËÆä²»±¸£¬ÓÚµ±ÍíͻȻϮ»÷¡£ÓëÓ¢¾ü¹²Í¬ÓëÄÃÆÆÂØÕ½¶·µÄ»¹ÓкÉÀ¼¡¢±ÈÀûʱ¡¢µÂµÈ¹ú¡£×îºóÄÃÆÆÂعѲ»µÐÖÚ£¬Ê§°Ü¡£ 10 The Eve Of Waterloo There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium¡¯s capital had gather¡¯d then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o¡¯er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look¡¯d love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it? ¡ªNo; ¡¯twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o¡¯er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the growing hours with flying feet¡ª But, hark! ¡ª that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is ¡ª it is ¡ªthe cannon¡¯s opening roar! Ah! Then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush¡¯d at the praise of their own loveliness: And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne¡¯er might be repeated; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise! And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng¡¯d the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips ¡ª¡®the foe! they come! they come!¡¯ ×¢ÊÍ£º Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright£º²¼Â³Èû¶ûµÄÓ¢ÐÛÃÀÈË¡£Her Ö¸Brussels Voluptuous[v /l ptu s ]swell »ªÀöµÄÒôÀÖÐýÂÉ¡£Swell ±¾Ö¸´óÀË£¬´ËÖ¸ÀÖÉùµ´Ñú¡£ Soft eyes look¡¯d love to eyes which spake again look£ºÎÂÈáµÄÑÛ¾¦ÓëÑÛ¾¦»¥Ïà´«Çé¡£Look love£ºLook with love¡£ And all went merry as a marriage bell; ´ó¼Ò»¶ÐÀ¹ÄÎ裬¾ÍÏñ½á»é´òÖÓ¡£ a deep sound strikes like a rising knell£ºÒ»¸ö³ÁÃÆµÄÉùÒô¾ÍÏñÕýÔÚÇÃÏìµÄÉ¥ÖÓÒ»Ñù´«À´¡£ Youth and Pleasure meet\To chase the growing hours with flying feet: Çà´ºÓë»¶ÀÖ½á°é£¬Ó÷ɿìµÄ½Å²½×·ÖðÕâ»À·¢µÄʱ¹â¡£growing hours£ºÁîÈËÆð¾¢µÄʱ¹â¡£ As if the clouds its echo would repeat;ÌìÉϵÄÔÆºÃÏñÓÖ°ÑËüµÄ»ØÉùÓÐÖØ¸´ÁËÒ»´Î£ºÒâ¼´ÉùÒôºÜ´ó£¬»áÏìºÜ¾Ã¡£ Arm! arm! it is ¡ª it is ¡ªthe cannon¡¯s opening roar! ÄÃÆðÎäÆ÷£¬ÄÃÆðÎäÆ÷£¡ÕâÊÇ´óÅÚÔÚÕ¹¿ªÅØÏø¡£ gathering tears£º²»¶Ï¾Û¼¯µÄÀᣬԽÀ´Ô½¶àµÄÀáË®¡£ cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago\ Blush¡¯d at the praise of their own loveliness: һСʱÒÔǰÒòÊܵ½¿ä½±¶øÐߺìµÄÁ³µ°¶ù£¬ÏÖÔÚ¶¼·¢°×ÁË¡£ there were sudden partings, such as press\The life from out young hearts, ʹÄêÇáµÄÐÄÁéÍ´²»ÓûÉúµÄͻȻ¾÷±ð¡£ choking sighs\ Which ne¡¯er might be repeated;ºÜ¿ÉÄÜÓÀÔ¶²»»áÔÙÓеij鴤̾Ϣ¡£ÒòΪ¿ÉÄÜÊǾ÷±ð£¬ËùºÜ¿ÉÄܲ»»áÔÙÓС£ mustering squadron£º¼¯ºÏµÄÖÐ¶Ó swiftly forming in the ranks of war;¿ìËÙÅųÉ×÷Õ½¶ÓÐΡ£Rank£º¶ÓÁС£ And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;\ And near, the beat of the alarming drum\Roused up the soldier ere [e ]the morning star;Ô¶´¦ÊÇÒ»ÕóÒ»ÕóµÄ³ÁÃÆµÄÀ×Ãù£¬½ü´¦ÊDZ¨¾¯µÄ¹ÄÉù£¬²»µÈÆôÃûÐdzöÏÖ£¬¾Í°ÑÊ¿±ø»½ÐÑ¡£ While throng¡¯d the citizens with terror dumb,ÊÐÃñÃÇÔò¼·ÔÚÒ»Æð£¬±»ÏųÉÁËÑÆ°Í¡£´Ë¾ä¿É¸Ä³É£ºthe citizens thronged, dumb with terror. »òÕߣºThe citizens dumb with terror thronged. ÄÚÈÝ£º´ËÊ«¼«ÆäÉú¶¯µØÃè»æÁËÎè»áÉϵ϶ÀÖ³¡ÃæºÍ´óÕ½À´ÁÙÖ®¼ÊµÄ¾ª»Å¾°Ïó¡£Îè»áÉÏÓ¢ÐÛÃÇ·ç¶Èôæô棬ÃÀÈËÃǺ¬ÇéÂöÂö£¬ÆÅæ¶ÆðÎ裬¾¡Çé¿ñ»¶¡£Ã»ÓÐÏëµ½£¬Ò²²»ÏàÐÅÕ½Õù»áÔÚ´Ëʱ±¬·¢¡£ÕýÔÚ¿ñ»¶Ö®¼Ê£¬´óÅÚºäÃùÆðÀ´¡£ÓÚÊÇÔÚ¾ª¿ÖºÍ¾øÍûÖ®Öиæ±ð¡£Ê¿±øÃż±ËÙ¼¯ºÏ£¬ÊÐÃñÃǾª»Åʧ´ë¡£Õû¸ö³ÇÊÐÂÒ×÷Ò»ÍÅ¡£´ËÊ«µÄ³É¹¦Ö®´¦ÔÚÓÚÉú¶¯µÄ³¡¾°Ãèд£¬¼«¸»Ï·¾çÐÔ£¬¶ÁÖ®ÈçÉíÁÙÆä¾³¡£Ó¢¹úС˵¼ÒÈø¿ËÀ×£¨William Makepeace Thackeray£©ÔÚÆð³¤ÆªÐ¡Ëµ¡¶ÃûÀû³¡¡·(Vanity Fair, 1847-48)µÚ29ÕÂÖжÔÕⳡÎè»áÒ²Óзdz£³öÉ«µÄÃèд¡£ ÐÎʽ£º ´ËÊ«Êô˹±öÈûÌå(Spenserian stanza)£¬ Edmund Spenser £¨1552£¿¡ª99¼ÌÇÇÛÅÖ®ºóµÄ×î´óÊ«ÈË¡££© ÔÚThe Faerie Queene Öд´ÔìÁËÕâÖÖÐÎʽµÄÊ«½Ú£¬¹ÊÃû¡£ÆäÐÎʽÊÇÿ½Ú¾ÅÐУ¬Ç°°ËÐÐΪÒÖÑï¸ñÎåÒô²½£¬µÚ¾ÅÐÐΪÒÖÑï¸ñÁùÒô²½£¬ÔÏʽÊÇ£ºababbcbcc. There was |a sound |of re|velry |by night, And Bel|gium¡¯s ca|pital |had ga|ther¡¯d then Her Beau|ty and |her Chi|valry, |and bright The lamps |shone o¡¯er |fair wo|men and |brave men; A thou|sand hearts |beat hap|pily; |and when Music| arose| with its| volup|tuous swell, Soft eyes| look¡¯d love| to eyes |which spake |again, And all |went mer|ry as |a mar|riage bell; But hush! | hark! a| deep sound |strikes like |a ris|ing knell! Did ye |not hear| it? ¡ªNo; |¡¯twas but| the wind, Or the |car rat|tling o¡¯er| the sto|ny street; On with |the dance! |let joy |be un|confined; No sleep| till morn, | when Youth |and Plea|sure meet To chase |the grow|ing hours |with fly|ing feet¡ª But, hark! | ¡ª that hea|vy sound |breaks in |once more, As if |the clouds |its e|cho would |repeat; And near|er, clear|er, dead|lier than |before! Arm! arm! | it is ¡ª|it is ¡ª|the can|non¡¯s open|ing roar! Ah! Then| and there| was hur|rying to| and fro, And gath|ering tears, | and trem|blings of| distress, And cheeks| all pale, |which but |an hour |ago Blush¡¯d at |the praise |of their |own love|liness: And there| were sud|den par|tings, such| as press The life |from out |young hearts, |and chok|ing sighs Which ne¡¯er |might be |repea|ted; who |could guess If ev |er more | should meet |those mut |ual eyes, Since up |on night | so sweet |such aw |ful morn |could rise! And there | was moun |ting in |hot haste: |the steed, The must |ering squa |dron, and |the clatt |ering car, Went pou |ring for |ward with | impe |tuous speed, And swift |ly form |ing in |the ranks | of war; And the |deep thun |der peal | on peal |afar; And near, | the beat |of the |alar |ming drum Roused up |the sol |dier ere | the mor |ning star; While throng¡¯d |the ci|tizens| with ter|ror dumb, Or whisp|ering with |white lips ¡ª| ¡®the foe! |they come! |they come!¡¯ Percy Bysshe Shelly[/p :si bi / eli ](1792¡ª1822) çêÎ÷•±ÈÏ£•Ñ©À³ÊǰÝÂ׵ĺÃÓÑ£¬Óë°ÝÂ×Ò»Ñù£¬Ò²ÊÇÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåʱÆÚµÄ´óÊ«ÈË¡£¼«Á¦Ö÷ÕÅ×ÔÓÉ£¬²»½öÖ÷ÕÅÕþÖÎÉϵÄ×ÔÓÉ£¬Ò²Ö÷ÕÅÄÐŮ֮°®µÄ×ÔÓÉ¡£¶þÊ®À´ËêʱÓëÒ»¸öÃû½ÐHarriet Westbrook µÄÅ®º¢Ë½±¼²¢½á»é¡£ºóÀ´¼ÓÈ뼤½øµÄÕÜѧ¼Ò William Godwin µÄѧÊõȦ×Ó£¬³ÉΪÆäÐÅͽ¡££¨William Godwin£¬1756¡ª1836£¬Ö÷ÕÅÈËÐÔ±¾ÉÆ£¬ÔÚÀíÐÔÖ±µ½Ï£¬¿ÉÒÔ²»Òª·¨ÂÉ¡£²Æ²úÖÆ¶È¡¢»éÒöÖÆ¶È¶¼¸Ã·Ï³ý¡££©ºóÀ´Ñ©À³ÓÖÔÚGodwin µÄºóÆÞµÄÅ®¶ùClaire ClairmontµÄÅã°éÏÂÓëGodwin ǰÆÞµÄÅ®¶ùMary Wollstonecraft˽±¼µ½ÈðÊ¿£¬²¢½á»é£¬Ç°ÆÞ×Ôɱ¡£Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin д¹ýÒ»±¾ÃûΪ¡¶ÎªÅ®È¨Éê±ç¡·£¨A Vindication of the Rights of Woman£©¿ÉνÏÖÔÚŮȫÔ˶¯µÄÏÈÇýÈËÎï¡£Godwin Ò²ÊÇÖ÷ÕŰ®Çé×ÔÓɵģ¬¿ÉÊǵ±Ñ©À³ÓëÆäÅ®¶ù˽±¾ºó£¬¾Í²»ÔÙÈç´ËÖ÷ÕÅÁË¡£ÈýÊ®Ëêʱ£¬Ñ©À³ÄçË®¶øËÀ¡£Æä×÷Æ·ºÜ¶à£¬´ú±í×÷Óг¤Ê«Prometheus[pru /mi: s] Unbound, Ode To The West Wind µÈ¡£ÎÒÃÇÒª¶ÁµÄÊÇËûµÄÒ»Ê×ÖøÃûµÄ°®ÇéÊ«¡£ 11 One Word Is Too Often Profaned £¨TO¡ª¡ª£© (1) One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it; One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another, (2) I can give not what men call love, But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not, ¡ª The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar Form the sphere of our sorrow? ×¢ÊÍ£º µÚÒ»½Ú £¨1£© One word is too often profaned\For me to profane it, ÓÐÒ»¸ö´Ê»ã±»ÈËÀÄÓõò»ÏñÑù×Ó£¬ÎÒÔÙÒ²²»ÈÌÐÄÀÄÓÃËüÁË¡£One wordÖ¸love¡£Profane£ºÙôä¡£ £¨2£© One feeling too falsely disdained\For thee to disdain it; ÓÐÒ»ÖÖÇé¸Ð×ÜÊÇ´íÎóµØÔâµ½ÃïÊÓ£¬Äã²»¸ÃºÝÏÂÐÄ£¬ÔÙÈ¥ÃïÊÓËü¡£One feeling£ºÖ¸¶ÔËù°®µÄÈ˵ij羴֮Çé¡£ £¨3£© One hope is too like despair\For prudence to smother, ÓÐÒ»¸öÏ£Íû£¬ËüÌ«ÄÑʵÏÖ£¬ºÍ¾øÍû²î²»¶à£¬ÇëÄã²»Òª¹ËÂÇÖØÖØ¡¢ËõÊÖËõ½Å£¬°ÑËüϨÃð¡£ £¨4£© And pity from thee more dear \Than that form another,:¶ÔÎÒÀ´Ëµ£¬ÄãµÄ°®Á¯±È±ðÈ˵ͼÕä¹ó¡£Ê«ÈË¶ÔÆäÇéÈËÎޱȳ羴£¬Èç¹ûÆäÇéÈ˶ÔÊ«È˵ÄÕâÖÖÐÄÇé²»ÊÓ¶ø²»¼û£¬ÒÔ°®Á¯Ö®ÐÄ×÷³ö·´Ó¦£¬¶ÔÊ«ÈËÀ´Ëµµ±È»ÎÞ±ÈÕä¹ó¡£ µÚ¶þ½Ú £¨1£© I can give not what men call love,\But wilt thou accept not: ÎÒ²»ÄÜÏòÄã·îÏ×ÊÀË×Ö®ÈËËùνµÄ¡°°®¡±£¬µ«ÊÇÄѵÀÄã»áÈÌÐľܾø£¨ÒÔϼ¸ÖÖÇé¸ÐÂ𣩣¿wilt thou£ºyou will. Wilt£ºµÚ¶þÈ˳Ƶ¥ÊýÏÖÔÚʱµÄ¹Åʽ¡£´Ë¾äÓëµÚÒ»½ÚµÄ¡°One word is too often profaned\For me to profane it¡±¶ÔÓ¦¡£ £¨2£© The worship the heart lifts above\And the Heavens reject not, Èç¹ûÐÄÁ齫Ëü·îÏ׸ø²ÔÌ죬²ÔÌìÒ²²»»Ø¾øµÄ³ç°Ý¡£Òâ¼´ÕâÖÖ³ç°ÝÖ®ÇéÊdzç¸ß¶øÉñÊ¥µÄ¡£ £¨3£© The desire of the moth for the star,\Of the night for the morrow, ·É¶ê¶ÔÐÇÐÇµÄÆÚÅΣ¬ÒÔ¼°ºÚÒ¹¶Ô°×ÖçµÄÏòÍù¡£Morrow £º¡´ÎÄ¡µ£ºtomorrow, morning. Ê«È˰Ñ×Ô¼ºµÄ´¦¾³±È×öºÚÒ¹£¬°ÑËù°®µÄÈ˱È×ö¹âÃ÷¡£ £¨4£© The devotion to something afar \Form the sphere of our sorrow? ÔÚÍ´¿àµÄ³¾ÊÀÖжÔÒ£Ô¶Ãξ°µÄ×·Çó¡£ÕâÓëµÚÒ»½Ú¡°One hope is too like despair¡±ÏàºôÓ¦¡£Sphere ±¾ÒåΪÇòÌ壬´Ë´¦Ö¸ÊÀË×ÊÀ½ç¡£ ÄÚÈÝ£º´ËÊ«ÓëÅí˹µÄÄÇÊ×·ç¸ñ²»Í¬¡£Ç°ÕßÍâ©¶øÇ³ÏÔ£¬´ËÊ«ÉîÖ¿²¢ÓÐÒ»¶¨µÄÕÜÀí¡£Ñ©À³ÈÏΪ°®ÇéÊÇ´ÓÈ˵ÄÌìÐÔÖÐ×ÔÈ»Á÷¶³öÀ´µÄijÖÖ´¿½àµÄ¡¢ÈáÄÛµÄÇé¸Ð£¬³ç¸ß¶øÉñÊ¥¡£¾ÍÏñ·É¶ê¶ÔÐÇÐÇµÄÆÚÅΡ¢ºÚ°µ¶Ô¹âÃ÷µÄÏòÍù¡¢Í´¿àÖжÔÃÀºÃδÀ´µÄ×·ÇóÒ»Ñù£¬ÊÇÌìµØ¼ä×ÔÈ»¶øÈ»²úÉúµÄ¡£ÕâÖÖÇé¸ÐÒ»µ©¼ÐÔÓÊÀË×Éú»îÖеÄÓ¹Ë×¹ÛÄ¾Í»á±»Å¤Çú¡¢±»Ùôä¡£´ËÓëPlatoÕÜѧ˼ÏëÓйء£Êµ¼ÊÇé¿öÒ²µÄÈ·Èç´Ë£¬ÈËÃÇ»ùÓÚÊÀË׵Ŀ¼ÂÇ£¬ÕâÖָ߽àµÄ¶«Î÷¾³£±»ÇáÃï¡¢±»Ùô䣬ÒÔÖÁÓÚ×·Ç󴿽మÇéµÄÏ£Íû¼¸ºõÓë¾øÍûÏàµÈ¡£¿´À´£¬²»½ö´ÓÎÒÃÇÏÖÔÚ´ÓÖÜΧµÄÏÖʵ¿´ÊÇÈç´Ë£¬ÔÚÑ©À³Ê±´úµÄÓ¢¹ú£¬Ò²ÊÇÈç´Ë¡£¿ÉÒÔ˵¡°°®ÇéÖ®ÄÑ£¬ÄÑÓÚÉÏÇàÌ족¡£ ÐÎʽ£ºÒÖÑï¸ñÓëÒÖÒÖÑï¸ñÏà¼ä¡£µÚ¶þ½Ú×îºóËÄÐÐÏÔÈ»ÊÇÒÖÒÖÑï¸ñ£¬ÓÐÏòǰ³åµÄÊÆÍ·£¬ÓëÄÚÈÝÖеġ°ÏòÍù¡±Ö®ÒâÎǺϡ£ÔÏʽÊÇababcdcd. (1) One word| is too |often |profaned For me| to pro|fane it, One feel|ing too| falsely| disdained For thee| to dis|dain it; One hope |is too |like -|despair For prud|ence to |smother, And pi|ty from |thee -|more dear Than that |form a|nother, (2) I can |give not |what men |call love, But wilt| thou ac|cept not The wor|ship the |heart lifts |above And the| Heavens re|ject not, ¡ª The desire |of the moth |for the star, Of the night| for the morrow, The devo|tion to some|thing afar From the sphere |of our sorrow? John Keats (1795¡ª1821) Ô¼º²•¼Ã´ÈÊÇÀËÂþÖ÷ÒåʱÆÚµÄÓÖÒ»´óÊ«ÈË£¬Óë°ÝÂס¢Ñ©À³²¢¼ÝÆëÇý¡£°ÝÂ׺ÍÑ©À³¶¼Êǹó×å³öÉí£¬¼Ã´ÈÔò³öÉíº®Î¢£¬¸¸Ä¸ÔçÊÅ£¬Ò»ÉúƶÀ§¡£ËûÔøÈÈÁµ¹ýÒ»¸öÉÙÅ®Fanny Browne£¬µ«ÓÉÓÚ¾¼ÃÌõ¼þ²»ÐУ¬ÓÖ»¼×ŷβ¡£¬Õâ¸öÏ£ÍûÒ²µÈÓÚ¾øÍû¡£¼Ã´ÈÊ«²Å¼«´ó£¬¿Éϧ25Ëê¾ÍËÀÓڷνáºË£¨tuberculosis £©¡£ËûµÄ¹ýÈËÖ®´¦ÊÇÔÚÓÚÉÆÓÚ·¢¾òÏÖʵÉú»îÖеĸÐÐÔÃÀ¡£×îΪ´«Ë̵Ä×÷Æ·ÊÇËÌÌåÊ«£¬ÈçOde to a Nightingale, Ode to a Grecian Urn, Ode to the Autumn µÈ¡£ÎÒÃÇÒª¶ÁµÄÕâÊס¶òåòåÓëó¬ó°¡·Ð´ÓÚ1816Ä꣬ҲºÜ³öÃû¡£ 12 The Grass-hopper And The Cricket The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the Grasshopper¡¯s ¡ªhe takes the lead In summer luxury, ¡ªhe has never done With his delights; for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. The poetry of earth is ceasing never: On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills The Cricket¡¯s song, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, The Grasshopper¡¯s among some grassy hills. ×¢ÊÍ£º a voice will run\From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;¾Í»áÓÐÒ»ÖÖÉùÒôÔÚ¸Õ¸î¹ýµÄ²ÝµØÉÏÏìÆð£¬Æ®¹ýÒ»¸ö¸öÀé°Ê¡£Mead [mi:d]: poet meadow [/med-]. he takes the lead\In summer luxury, ÔÚ·±»¨ËƽõµÄÏÄÈÕ£¬Ëû´øÍ·[¸è³ª]¡£/Luxury£ºÉݳޣ¬»ªÀö£¬·áÊ¢¡£ he has never done\With his delights; for when tired out with fun\He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. ËûµÄÐËÖ´Ӳ»Ïûʧ£¬ÒòΪ£¬³ªµÃÀ§¾ëºó£¬Ëû»áÊæ·þµØÔÚijЩ¿É°®µÄ²Ý´ÔÖÐÉÔÊÂÏûÏ¢£¬£¨È»ºó¼ÌÐø³ªÆðÀ´£©¡£Do with ÓÐ finish withµÄÓ÷¨¡£Èç have you done with the newspaper? when the frost\ Has wrought a silence, µ±Ëª¶³´øÀ´ÁËһƬ¼Å¾²µÄʱºò¡£Wrought [r :t] work µÄ¹ýȥʽºÍ¹ýÈ¥·Ö´Ê¡£ÖÆÔ죬´øÀ´¡£ in warmth increasing ever,\And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,\ The Grasshopper¡¯s among some grassy hills. ¿ÉÒÔ¸Äд³É£º and in ever increasing warmth, (the cricket's song )seems to some one who is half lost in drowsiness the grasshopper's among some grassy hills. ÔÚζȲ»¶ÏÉÏÉýµÄÊÒÄÚ£¬ó¬ó°µÄ¸èÉùÔÚ˯ÒâëüëʵÄÈËÌýÀ´£¬·Â·ðÊÇòåòåÇà²Ý´ÔÉúµÄɽÉÏÃù½Ð¡£half lost in drowsiness: »è»èÓû˯£¬¿ìҪʧȥ֪¾õ¡£Drowsy: »è»èÓû˯µÄ¡£ ÄÚÈÝ£ºÔÚÊæÊʵĻ·¾³ÖУ¬Ôڼž²µÄÒ¹Íí£¬¾²ÌýÍÜÒ÷³æÃù£¬ÄܰÑÈË´øÈëÒ»ÖÖ³¬·²ÍÑËס¢»Ø¹é×ÔÎҵľ«Éñ¾³½ç£¬ÕâÊÇÒ»ÖÖ¼«´óµÄÏíÊÜ¡£ÕâЩÌìô¥Ö®Òô£¬½øÈëÎÒÃÇÐÄÖУ¬»¹ÄÜʹÎÒÃÇÌå»áµ½×ÔÈ»½çµÄ·á¸»¶à²Ê£¬ºÍËüÓÀÎÞֹϢµÄÉú»ú¡£´ËÊ«Ëù±íÏֵľÍÊÇÕâÖÖ¸ÐÊÜ¡£ÏÄÈÕÓÐòåò壬¶¬Ò¹ÓÐó¬ó°£¬ËüÃǵÄÃù½ÐÊÇ´óµØµÄÊ«¸èµÄ´ú±í£¬ÓÀ²»Í£Ö¹µØ¸è³ª×Åΰ´ó¶øÉñÃØµÄ´ó×ÔÈ»¡£ ÐÎʽ£º´ËʫΪÒâ´óÀûʽʮËÄÐÐÊ«£¬ÒÖÑï¸ñÎåÒô²½£¬½á¹¹ÉÏ·ÖÁ½½Ú£ºÇ°°ËÐÐ(Á½¸öËÄÐнÚ)£¬ºóÁùÐУ¨Á½¸öÈýÐнڣ©£¬Õ¹¿ªÁ½ÖÖÒâ¾³¡£´Ëʫǰ°ËÐÐдÏÄÈÕµÄòåò壬ºóÁùÐÐд¶¬Ò¹µÄó¬ó°£¬ÐγɶԱȡ£ÔÏʽ£ºabba abba, cde, cde. µÚÒ»ÐеÄdead ÊÇÑÛÔÏ eye rhyme. The |poetry |of earth |is ne|ver dead : When all |the birds| are faint| with the |hot sun, And hide |in coo|ling trees, |a voice| will run From hedge| to hedge |about |the new-|mown mead; That is |the Grass|hopper¡¯s |¡ªhe takes |the lead In sum|mer luxu|ry, ¡ªhe |has ne|ver done With his |delights; | for when| tired out |with fun He rests |at ease |beneath |some plea|sant weed. The poe|try of |earth is |ceasing |never: On a |lone win|ter eve|ning, when |the frost Has wrought |a si|lence, from| the stove| there shrills The Cri|cket¡¯s song, |in warmth |increa|sing ever, And seems| to one| in drow|siness| half lost, The Grass|hopper¡¯s |among |some gras|sy hills. |

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807¡ª1882) ºàÀû•ÎÖ×ÌÎÖ˹•ÀÊ·ÑÂÞÊÇÊ®¾ÅÊÀ¼ÍÃÀ¹ú´óÊ«ÈË£¬×÷Æ·¼«¶à£¬ÊãÇéÊ«£¬³äÂú×ÅÈ˼äµÄÕæÇ飬ÓÅÃÀÁ÷³©£¬¹ãΪÈË´«ËС£ÒÔÏ¡¶¼ýÓë¸è¡·ºÍ¡¶´åÖÐÌú½³¡·Á½Ê×¼´ÊÇÕâÑùµÄ×÷Æ·¡£ 13 The Arrow And The Song I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterwards, in an oak, I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. ×¢ÊÍ£ºIt fell to earth, I knew not where; £ºI did not know where it fell to earth. Unbroke: unbroken ÄÚÈÝ£ºÎÒÏò¿ÕÖÐÉä³öÒ»Ö»¼ý£¬ËüÂäÔÚµØÉÏ¡£ÂäÔں䦣¬ÎÒ²»ÖªµÀ¡£Õâ²»±Ø½ï½ï¼Æ½Ï¡£ÎÒÏò¿ÕÖгªÒ»Ö§¸è£¬ËüÔÚµØÉÏÏûʧ£¬ÏûʧÔں䦣¬ÎÒ²»ÖªµÀ£¬Õâ²»±Ø½ï½ï¼Æ½Ï¡£ËäÈ»ÎÒ²¢Ã»Óнï½ï¼Æ½Ï£¬µ«ÊǺóÀ´ÎÒ·¢³öµÄ¼ýºÍ¸è¶¼ÍêºÃµØ±£´æÔÚÈ˼䣬ÎÒµÄÀͶ¯¡¢ÎҵĺÃÒ⣬²¢Ã»Óаװ×ÀË·Ñ¡£Ëü±íÏÖµÄÊÇÒ»ÖÖÉî¿ÌµÄÈËÉúµÀÀí¡£ÈËÉúÓÚÊÀ£¬ÒªÐÄÐØ¿í¹ã£¬ÑÛ¹â¸ßÔ¶£¬²»ÒªÊóÄ¿´ç¹â£¬²»ÒªÑÛ¿×Ì«¼â£¨a keen sight£©×ÜÊǶ¢×ÅÑÛǰµÄСÀû£¬»¼µÃ»¼Ê§¡£ÒªÖ»¹ÜÀͶ¯£¬²»Òª¼Æ½ÏÊÕ»ñ£¬Ö»¹ÜÓëÈËÎªÉÆ£¬²»Òª¼Æ½Ï»Ø±¨¡£ËäÈ»Äã²»¼Æ½Ï£¬ÄãµÄŬÁ¦×îÖÕ²»»á°×·Ñ¡£¡¶½ð¸Õ¾¡·ÉÏÓÐÒ»¾ä»°£º¡°Ó¦ÎÞËùס¶øÉúÆäÐÄ¡±¡£¡¶ÖÐÓ¹¡·ÉϽ²¡°»ýÉÆÖ®¼Ò±ØÓÐÓàÇ족£¬Ë×ÑÕ˵¡°ºÃÈËÒ»Éúƽ°²¡±¡£´ËÊ«ÓÐÕâЩÒâ˼¡£¡¶ÂÀÊÏ´ºÇï•ÃÏ´º¼Í•¹ó¹«¡·ÓÐÒ»Ôò¹ÊÊ£¬Ò²¿É·¢Ã÷´ËÊ«ÒâÔÌ£º¡°¾£ÈËÓÐÒŹÕߣ¬¶ø²»¿ÏË÷£¬Ô»£º¡®¾£ÈËÒÅÖ®£¬¾£È˵ÃÖ®£¬ÓÖºÎË÷ÑÉ¡£¡±¿××ÓÎÅÖ®Ô»£º¡°È¥Æä¡®¾£¡¯¶ø¿ÉÒÓ¡£¡±ÀÏñõÎÅÖ®Ô»£º¡°È¥Æä¡®ÈË¡¯¶ø¿ÉÒÓ¡£¡± ÐÎʽ£ºÒÖÑï¸ñËÄÒô²½£¬ÔÏʽ£ºaabb I shot |an ar|row in|to the air, It fell |to earth, | I knew |not where; For, so| swiftly| it flew, |the sight Could not| follow |it in |its flight. I breathed |a song| into| the air, It fell| to earth, |I knew| not where; For who| has sight |so keen |and strong, That it |can fol|low the |flight of song? Long, long| after|wards, in| an oak, I found| the ar|row, still| unbroke; And the |song, from| begin|ning to end, I found| again| in the |heart of |a friend. 14 The Village Blacksmith £¨1£©Under a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With larger and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. £¨2£©His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate¡¯er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. £¨3£©Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. £¨4£©And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks |

7Â¥2005-06-24 18:43:19
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8Â¥2005-06-24 23:59:54













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