LESSON 48

“HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP”

他让自己的最爱安眠

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1809-1861, was born in London, married the poet Robert Browning in 1846, and afterwards resided in Italy most of the time till her death, which occurred at Florence. She was thoroughly educated in severe and masculine studies, and began to write at a very early age. Her “Essay on Mind,” a metaphysical and reflective poem, was written at the age of sixteen. She wrote very rapidly, and her friend, Miss Mitford, tells us that “Lady Geraldine’s Courtship,” containing ninety-three stanzas, was composed in twelve hours! She published several other long poems, “Aurora Leigh” being one of the most highly finished. Mrs. Browning is regarded as one of the most able female poets of modern times; but her writings are often obscure, and some have doubted whether she always clearly conceived what she meant to express. She had a warm sympathy with all forms of suffering and distress. “He Giveth his Beloved Sleep” is one of the most beautiful of her minor poems. The thought is an amplification of verse 2d of Psalm cxxvii.

Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Along the Psalmist’s music deep,
Now tell me if that any is,
For gift or grace, surpassing this,—
“He giveth his beloved, sleep!”
What would we give to our beloved?
The hero’s heart to be unmoved,
The poet’s star-tuned harp, to sweep,
The patriot’s voice, to teach and rouse,
The monarch’s crown, to light the brows?—
“He giveth his beloved, sleep.”
What do we give to our beloved?
A little faith all undisproved,
A little dust to overweep,
And bitter memories to make
The whole earth blasted for our sake,—
“He giveth his beloved, sleep.”
“Sleep soft, beloved!” we sometimes say,
But have no tune to charm away
Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep.
But never doleful dream again
Shall break his happy slumber when
“He giveth his beloved, sleep.”
O earth, so full of dreary noises!
O men, with wailing in your voices!
O delved gold, the wailers heap!
O strife, O curse, that o’er it fall!
God strikes a silence through you all,
And “giveth his beloved, sleep.”
His dews drop mutely on the hill;
His cloud above it saileth still,
Though on its slope men sow and reap.
More softly than the dew is shed,
Or cloud is floated overhead,
“He giveth his beloved, sleep.”
Ay, men may wonder while they scan
A living, thinking, feeling man,
Confirmed in such a rest to keep;
But angels say—and through the word
I think their happy smile is heard—
“He giveth his beloved, sleep.”
For me my heart, that erst did go
Most like a tired child at a show,
That sees through tears the mummers leap,
Would now its wearied vision close,
Would childlike on his love repose
Who “giveth his beloved, sleep.”
And friends, dear friends,—when it shall be
That this low breath is gone from me,
And round my bier ye come to weep,
Let one most loving of you all
Say, “Not a tear must o’er her fall;
‘He giveth his beloved, sleep.’ ”

【中文阅读】

上帝的所有想法
内达心底，上抵无远弗届的灵魂，
赞美诗歌者在深沉的乐声伴下，
向我述说它的真谛，
为了天才和魅力，超越这个藩篱——
“他让自己的最爱，安眠！”
我们会给我们的最爱什么？
英雄的心儿那么镇定，
诗人慨叹机遇转变的竖琴，奏出
爱国者的声音，劝诫和唤醒，
君王的宝座，照亮额头？
“他让自己的最爱，安眠。”
我们能给我们的最爱什么？
一点信念，全都不容置疑，
一点尘土，为你哭泣，
伤心的回忆使得
整个大地为我们爆开——
“他让自己的最爱，安眠。”
“安眠吧，我的最爱！”我们有时说，
可是没有哪支曲子能治愈心中的忧伤
眼帘上漫过的是令人悲伤的幽梦。
但悲哀的梦已不再
打断他幸福的梦乡。
“他让自己的最爱，安眠。”
啊，大地，到处令人积郁的噪音！
啊，那些人儿，用你的声音呼号！
啊，追思黄金岁月，恸哭者麇集！
啊，搏斗，诅咒，响彻云霄！
上帝让你们全都平静下来，
“他让自己的最爱，安眠。”
上帝的露珠无声地滴在山崖；
他的祥云还在船帆上空浮动，
人们在山坡上耕种收获，
比露珠洒下得更温柔，
或者云朵在头上漂浮，
“他让自己的最爱，安眠。”
哎，人们看到这一幕时会好奇，
鲜活，有思想，有感觉的人，
断然以这样的方式休息，
可是鹰会说——通过话语
我以为它们快乐的微笑会传递——
“他让自己的最爱，安眠。”
对我，我的心以前会悸动，
最像看戏的疲惫的孩子，
看到伶人跳跃泪眼蒙眬，
但愿令人厌倦的情景能结束，
但愿他孩子般的爱能宁静
谁“让自己的最爱，安眠。”
朋友们，亲爱的朋友们——
当这低声呼吸从我身边渐离。
你扶着我的棺材开始哭泣，
让你以所有的挚爱
说，“为她的离去不必掬泪；
‘他让自己的最爱，安眠。’”