Ode To A Nightingale (John Keats)

《夜鶯頌》（約翰·濟慈）

朗讀：本尼迪克特·康伯巴奇

簡介：濟慈（1795—1821）是19世紀英國著名浪漫主義詩人。生于倫敦一個馬夫家庭。由于家境貧困，詩人不滿16歲就離校學醫，當學徒。1816年，他棄醫從文，開始詩歌創作。1817年詩人出版第一本詩集。1818年，他根據古希臘美麗神話寫成的《安狄米恩》問世。此后詩人進入詩歌創作的鼎盛時期，先后完成了《伊莎貝拉》、《圣亞尼節前夜》、《許佩里恩》等著名長詩，還有最膾炙人口的《夜鶯頌》、《希臘古甕頌》、《秋賦》等詩歌。也是在1818年，詩人愛上了范妮·布恩小姐，同時詩人的身體狀況也開始惡化。在痛苦、貧困和甜蜜交織的狀況下，詩人寫下了大量的著名詩篇。1821年，詩人前往意大利休養，不久病情加重，年僅25歲就離開了人世。

《夜鶯頌》是1818年濟慈23歲的作品。那年，詩人患上了肺癆，同時詩人還處于和范妮·布勞恩小姐的熱戀中。正如詩人自己說的，他常常想的兩件事就是愛情的甜蜜和自己死去的時間。在這樣的情況下，詩人情緒激昂，心中充滿著悲憤和對生命的渴望。在一個深沉的夜晚，在濃密的樹枝下，在鳥兒嘹亮的歌聲中，詩人一口氣寫下了這首8節80多行的《夜鶯頌》。

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk

’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

But being too happy in thine happiness,--

That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees

In some melodious plot

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stained mouth

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

What thou among the leaves hast never known,

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden-eyed despairs,

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,

But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards

Already with thee! tender is the night,

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,

Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;

But here there is no light,

Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,

But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet

Wherewith the seasonable month endows

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;

White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;

And mid-May’s eldest child,

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call’d him soft names in many amused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

In such an ecstasy!

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--

To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep?