LESSON 64

BILL AND JOE

比尔和乔

Oliver Wendell Holmes, 1809-1894, was the son of Abiel Holmes, D.D. He was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and graduated at Harvard in 1829, having for classmates several men who have since become distinguished. After graduating, he studied law for about one year, and then turned his attention to medicine. He studied his profession in Paris, and elsewhere in Europe, and took his degree at Cambridge in 1836. In 1838 he was appointed Professor of Anatomy and Physiology in Dartmouth College. He remained here but a short time, and then returned to Boston and entered on the practice of medicine. In 1847 he was appointed professor at Harvard, filling a similar position to the one held at Dartmouth. He discharged the duties of his professorship for more than thirty years, with great success. Literature was never his profession; yet few American authors attained higher success, both as a poet and as a prose writer. His poems are lively and sparkling, abound in wit and humor, but are not wanting in genuine pathos. Many of them were composed for special occasions. His prose writings include works on medicine, essays, and novels; several appeared first as contributions to the “Atlantic Monthly.” He gained reputation, also, as a popular lecturer. In person, Dr. Holmes was small and active, with a face expressive of thought and vivacity.

Come, dear old comrade, you and I

Will steal an hour from days gone by—

The shining days when life was new,

And all was bright as morning dew,

The lusty days of long ago,

When you were Bill and I was Joe.

Your name may flaunt a titled trail

Proud as a cockerel’s rainbow tail,

And mine as brief appendix wear

As Tam O’Shanter’s luckless mare;

To-day, old friend, remember still

That I am Joe and you are Bill.

You’ve won the great world’s envied prize,

And grand you look in people’s eyes,

With HON. and LL. D.,

In big, brave letters fair to see,—

Your fist, old fellow! Off they go!—

How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe?

You’ve worn the judge’s ermined robe;

You’ve taught your name to half the globe;

You’ve sung mankind a deathless strain;

You’ve made the dead past live again:

The world may call you what it will,

But you and I are Joe and Bill.

The chaffing young folks stare and say,

“See those old buffers, bent and gray;

They talk like fellows in their teens;

Mad, poor old boys! That’s what it means”

And shake their heads; they little know

The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe—

How Bill forgets his hour of pride,

While Joe sits smiling at his side;

How Joe, in spite of time’s disguise,

Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes,—

Those calm, stern eyes, that melt and fill,

As Joe looks fondly up to Bill.

Ah! pensive scholar, what is fame?

A fitful tongue of leaping flame;

A giddy whirlwind’s fickle gust,

That lifts a pinch of mortal dust;

A few swift years, and who can show

Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe.

The weary idol takes his stand,

Holds out his bruised and aching hand,

While gaping thousands come and go—

How vain it seems, this empty show!—

Till all at once his pulses thrill:

‘T is poor old Joe’s, “God bless you, Bill!”

And shall we breathe in happier spheres

The names that pleased our mortal ears;

In some sweet lull of heart and song

For earth born spirits none too long,

Just whispering of the world below

When this was Bill, and that was Joe?

No matter; while our home is here,

No sounding name is half so dear;

When fades at length our lingering day,

Who cares what pompous tombstones say?

Read on the hearts that love us still,

Hic jacet Joe. Hic jacet Bill.

【中文阅读】

来吧，亲爱的老伙计，你和我

从逝去的日子偷得浮生一夕乐——

当生活焕然一新时，天光明媚，

像朝露一般清新，

很久以前的快乐时日，

那时你是比尔，我是乔。

你的名字也许因为带一个头衔而值得夸耀，

就像小公鸡彩虹般的尾巴那般骄傲，

而我的就像不幸的公驴戴的宽顶无檐圆帽

那样短小不合体；

今天，老朋友，可曾记得

我是乔来你是比尔。

你已经赢得令世界妒忌的荣誉

在人们眼里你是那么高傲，

又是尊称，又是法学博士头衔，

看到的是大大的勇敢的——

你的拳头，老伙计，他们都消失了！

你好吗，比尔？你好吗，乔？

你穿的是法官貂皮袍子；

你的名字半个世界都知道。

你为人类吟唱不朽的乐曲；

你让先前的逝者又复生：

这个世界随便称呼你，

可是你和我是乔和比尔。

一副嘲弄神情的年轻人瞪着眼睛说，

“瞧那些老家伙，腰都弯了头发花白；

说话还像十几岁那样，

疯狂的可怜的老男孩！事实就是这样。”

说罢摇着头；他们哪里晓得

比尔和乔那悸动的内心——

乔笑盈盈坐在他旁边，

比尔怎会忘记他何等自豪；

尽管时光可伪装，乔又是怎样

从老同学的眼神中读出异样——

当乔天真地端详比尔，

那眼神混杂了镇定和严厉。

哎，陷入沉思的学者，名望是什么东西？

是跳动着火焰的舌头；

一阵令人眩晕的变幻无常的旋风，

只刮起一捏尘土；

时光荏苒，谁能说明白

哪捏尘土是比尔，哪捏又是乔。

疲惫的偶像保持着他的姿势，

伸出他伤痕累累和疼痛难耐的手，

在成千上万张大了嘴的人面前走来走去——

这多么徒劳，这场空洞的表演！

直到他的脉搏马上剧烈跳动：

可怜的老乔，“上帝赐福与你，比尔！”

我们在快乐的气氛下低语，

提到的是取悦我们终将变聋的耳朵的名字；

在心底和歌声温柔的旋律里，

因为世间没有什么精神会存在太久，

下界在低语呢喃，

这是比尔，那是乔吗？

不要紧，我们的家园在这里，

当我们逗留不去的日子终将逝去时，

没有哪个响亮的名字如此亲切；

谁会在意自负的墓石说些什么？

不妨继续读那些还爱我们的心吧，

长眠于此的乔，长眠于此的比尔。