LESSON 22

THE THREE WARNINGS

三个警告

Hester Lynch Thrale. 1739—1821, owes her celebrity almost wholly to her long intimacy with Dr. Samuel Johnson. This continued for twenty years, during which Johnson spent much time in her family. She was born in Caernarvonshire, Wales; her first husband was a wealthy brewer, by whom she had several children. In 1784, she married an Italian teacher of music named Piozzi. Her writings are quite numerous; the best known of her books is the “Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson;” but nothing she ever wrote is so well known as the “Three Warnings.”

The tree of deepest root is found

Least willing still to quit the ground;

’T was therefore said by ancient sages,

That love of life increased with years

So much, that in our latter stages,

When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages,

The greatest love of life appears.

This great affection to believe,

Which all confess, but few perceive,

If old assertions can’t prevail,

Be pleased to hear a modern tale.

When sports went round, and all were gay,

On neighbor Dodson’s wedding day,

Death called aside the jocund groom

With him into another room;

And looking grave, “You must,” says he,

“Quit your sweet bride, and come with me.”

“With you! and quit my Susan’s side?

With you!” the hapless bridegroom cried:

“Young as I am, ’t is monstrous hard!

Besides, in truth, I’m not prepared.”

What more he urged, I have not heard;

His reasons could not well be stronger:

So Death the poor delinquent spared,

And left to live a little longer.

Yet, calling up a serious look,

His hourglass trembled while he spoke:

“Neighbor,” he said, “farewell! no more

Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour;

And further, to avoid all blame

Of cruelty upon my name,

To give you time for preparation,

And fit you for your future station,

Three several warnings you shall have

Before you’re summoned to the grave;

Willing for once I’ll quit my prey,

And grant a kind reprieve;

In hopes you’ll have no more to say,

But, when I call again this way,

Well pleased the world will leave.”

To these conditions both consented,

And parted perfectly contented.

What next the hero of our tale befell,

How long he lived, how wisely, and how well,

It boots not that the Muse should tell;

He plowed, he sowed, he bought, he sold,

Nor once perceived his growing old,

Nor thought of Death as near;

His friends not false, his wife no shrew,

Many his gains, his children few,

He passed his hours in peace.

But, while he viewed his wealth increase,

While thus along life’s dusty road,

The beaten track, content he trod,

Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,

Uncalled, unheeded, unawares,

Brought on his eightieth year.

And now, one night, in musing mood,

As all alone he sate,

The unwelcome messenger of Fate

Once more before him stood.

Half-killed with wonder and surprise,

“So soon returned!” old Dodson cries.

“So soon d’ ye call it?” Death replies:

“Surely! my friend, you’re but in jest;

Since I was here before,

’T is six and thirty years at least,

And you are now fourscore.”

“So much the worse!” the clown rejoined;

“To spare the aged would be kind:

Besides, you promised me three warnings,

Which I have looked for nights and mornings!”

“I know,” cries Death, “that at the best,

I seldom am a welcome guest;

But do n’t be captious, friend; at least,

I little thought that you’d be able

To stump about your farm and stable;

Your years have run to a great length,

Yet still you seem to have your strength.”

“Hold!” says the farmer, “not so fast!

I have been lame, these four years past.”

“And no great wonder,” Death replies,

“However, you still keep your eyes;

And surely, sir, to see one’s friends,

For legs and arms would make amends.”

“Perhaps,” says Dodson, “so it might,

But latterly I’ve lost my sight.”

“This is a shocking story, faith;

But there’s some comfort still,” says Death;

“Each strives your sadness to amuse;

I warrant you hear all the news.”

“There’s none,” cries he, “and if there were,

I’ve grown so deaf, I could not hear.”

“Nay, then,” the specter stern rejoined,

“These are unpardonable yearnings;

If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,

You’ve had your three sufficient warnings,

So, come along; no more we’ll part.”

He said, and touched him with his dart:

And now old Dodson, turning pale,

Yields to his fate—so ends my tale.

【中文阅读】

人们发现根最深的那棵树

最不情愿的就是离开那块土地；

这是古代智者说的话，

对生活的爱与日俱增

以至于在我们今后的人生舞台上，

当痛苦加深，疾病肆虐时，

愈发显出对生活的挚爱。

我们相信存在这种大爱，

所有人都承认，但很少有人认识到，

如果旧有的断言无法将人说服，

那就欣然聆听一个同时代的故事吧。

体育场坐满了人，所有人都那么快乐，

在邻居多德森大婚那天，

死神悄然闯入欢乐的新房

将他叫到另一个房间；

“你必须，”他目光悲戚地说，

“离开你可爱的新娘，随我而去。”

“跟你走！撇下我的苏珊？”

“跟你走！”无助的新郎喊道：

“同我一样年轻，这是魔鬼的铁石心肠！

而且，说实话，我没有任何准备。”

他又说了些什么，我没听到；

他的理由不那么有说服力；

于是死神饶恕了这个可怜的有过失的人，

让他再苟延残喘几时。

然而，他回忆起那严肃的目光，

在说话时他的沙漏颤抖个不停：

“邻居，”他说，“再见，死神

不会再来打扰你愉快的时光了；

再者，为了避免对我名声

所有残忍的指责，

给你时间做准备，

好在将来收你上天堂，

在召你进坟墓前，

有三个警告要告诉你；

之所以答应暂缓

是希望你毫无怨言，

但是当我再来唤你时，

希望你高高兴兴于这个世界别过。”

待你对这些都满意，

就会心满意足地永诀。

接下来，我们故事中的英雄，

活了很久，非常明智又快活，

连诗神缪斯也无法形容；

他耕种，他买卖，

没有察觉到自己渐渐老去，

也没想到死神就在近旁；

他的朋友没有过错，他的妻子也体贴温柔，

他挣得很多，可孩子花得很少，

他在平静祥和中度日。

但是，当他发现自己的财富累增，

就这样沿着生活那条坎坷路，

精疲力竭地前行，他对自己的跋涉心满又意足，

不再匆忙的时间老人，

没有召唤，没有留意，也没有意识到，

他一晃就到了八十岁。

此时，一天晚上，他陷入沉思，

对眼下的一切没有不满足，

命运女神的使者不期而至

就在他面前站立。

他奇怪和惊讶得要死，

“这么快就回来了！”老道德森喊道。

“这么快你就忘了？”死神答道：

“当然没有！我的朋友，你语带讥讽；

自从我以前来这儿，

已经至少三十六年了，

你现在正好八十岁。”

“过得越久越糟糕！”这个小丑反驳说；

“上了年纪人会达观：

另外，你向我承诺过三个警告！

我旦夕间都希望得到答案！”

“我知道，”死神咆哮道，“能那样当然最好，

很少有人把我当成受欢迎的客人；

但别强词夺理，朋友；至少，

我根本没想过你能

逃出你的农场和马厩；

你的寿命已经很长，

看来你似乎还有体力。”

“住嘴！”农夫说，“不会那么快！

过去四年，我已经跛脚。”

“这没什么好奇怪的，”死神反唇相讥，

“可是，你的眼神还不赖，

一眼就能把别人的朋友认出，

胳膊腿的毛病还能养好嘛。”

“也许吧，”道德森说，“也许会的，

可是后来我看不见东西了。”

“这是个令人震惊的故事，信哉；

可是还有令人安慰的事情呢，”死神说；

“你的悲哀听上去都像笑谈；

我保证你听到所有的消息了。”

“不是全部，”他喊道，“如果还有的话，

我宁愿自己是聋子，我不想听。”

“不，那么”鬼魂强硬地反驳，

“这是无法原谅的渴望；

如果你瘸了，聋了，盲了，

你就明白这三个警告了，

跟我走吧，我们不再分开了。”

他说，用飞镖碰碰他；

老道德森脸色惨白，

向命运屈服了——我的故事也完了。