“The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower17,
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.”
“I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam18 of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight19, hung low on the rim4 of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.”
“Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles20.
…
As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal
O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.”
“I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart,
[121]
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah, she did depart!
…
Soon after she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh.”
“Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colors of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night.”
Which is Blake, and which is Yeats? You may put the name of either under any of these stanzas21, without being guilty of an unpardonable critical lapse22. Mr. Yeats took Blake and imitated him as frankly23, and it may be, as unconsciously, as many less sophisticated versifiers have imitated Tennyson, or Mr. Swinburne, or Rossetti. It is creditable to him that he should have had discernment enough to perceive in Blake an exceptional[122] and individual content; but why having got hold of that content, having saturated24 himself with it, as it were, and having found the exploitation of it easy and provocative25 of praise, Mr. Yeats should turn round and call it Keltic is something of a puzzle. Of course, one has to remember that among a people whose interests are material, rather than spiritual, the poet who would get a hearing is compelled to have resort to a certain amount of adventitiousness and empyricism.
“We poets in our youth begin in gladness;
But thereof come in the end despondency and madness,”
saith Wordsworth. We poets in our youth also begin in sincerity26 and with a single eye to the glory of the Muses27. But too frequently, even while our youth is still with us, we begin to think about the glory of ourselves, and take steps accordingly. It is good for us, if we have any gift at all, to organize and advertise a school, with ourselves carefully elected by ourselves to the position of archpriest.[123] The critic who in an idle hour set down “Cockney School,” has a great deal to answer for. Somebody followed him hard with the “Lake School.” And in due course we had the “Fleshly School.” It is to be noted28, however, that these epithets29 were bestowed30 by the critics upon the poets, and not by the poets upon the poets themselves. I venture to suggest that it has been slightly different in the case of Mr. Yeats and his following. In Mr. Yeats’s mind—perhaps without his being wholly alive to it—something like the following has taken place: “To be of any account in this world a poet must have a quality or cry of his own. There is a quality, or poignancy31 of individualism, about Blake which has not yet become obvious to the multitude. I admire it, and I can imitate it, and possibly improve upon it; therefore let me adopt it for my own. And as I am an Irishman I shall cause it to be known not as the spirit of Blake, but as the Keltic quality. Selah!” I do not suggest for a moment that[124] Mr. Yeats’s conduct in this matter has been either wicked or unjustifiable. I do not even suggest that Mr. Yeats has been quite aware of what he was doing; but not to put too fine a point upon it, I do say that he has been “modern,” and that it is a thousand pities. There is nothing in Ireland, and there never has been anything in Ireland which will justify32 the appropriation33 of Blake as a sort of exclusive Irish product; and Mr. Yeats has written nothing which he could not have written just as well had he been a Cockney, or a Hebrew, capable of appreciating the spiritual and technical parts of Blake, and of perceiving the beauty of certain scraps34 of Irish history and folk-lore. As an Irish poet, Mr. Yeats, in my opinion, fails completely. It is as reasonable to call him an Irish poet as it would be to call Milton a Hebrew poet because he wrote “Paradise Lost,” or Mr. Swinburne a Greek poet because he wrote “Atalanta.” There is not an Irishman, qua Irishman, who wants Mr. Yeats; any more[125] than there is an Irishman, qua Irishman, who wants Mr. Yeats’s Irish Literary Theater. Mr. Yeats’s poetry and Mr. Yeats’s Irish Literary Theater are Blake’s poetry and Blake’s Literary Theater. They belong to the Euston Road, and not to Tara; they are cultivated, wary35, wistful, minor36 English, and not Irish at all. You have to be English, and a trifle subtle at that, to get on with them. Blake’s laurels37 are very posthumous38 and recent because the Englishmen of his time were busy with Pope and Crabbe, and had a sort of suspicion that Wordsworth was a lunatic. Englishmen did not know even Shakespeare in those days; at any rate not in the way that we know him nowadays. To the Pope-suckled Englishman of culture, Shakespeare, if he was anything at all, was a sort of robustious and flowery dramatist. They played him in full-bottomed wigs39 and small clothes. To-day the tendencies are all the other way. Shakespeare we shall tell you was no playwright40, but a poet, and the biggest[126] of them. Our modern actors spoil him for us, not by their cuts and modifications41, but by their raree-shows and mouthings. Who of them can say for you to your soul’s satisfaction:
… “O here,
Will I set up my everlasting42 rest
And shake the yoke43 of inauspicious stars
From this world-weary flesh?”
Shakespeare is for all time and more and more for the closet. Blake is a greater poet than the critical are disposed to admit, even in this age of tender enthusiasms. And Mr. Yeats is a poet, not because he is Irish or Keltic, but in so far and precisely44 as far as he has had the good sense to take Blake for his master. For Kelticism as it is understood by its professors, Shakespeare abounds45 in it.
1st Lady. Come, my gracious lord,
Shall I be your playfellow?
Mam. No, I’ll none of you.
1st Lady. Why, my sweet lord?
[127]
Mam. You’ll kiss me hard, and speak to me as if
I were a baby still.—I love you better.
2nd Lady. And why so, my lord?
Mam. Not for because
Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say,
Become some women best, so that there be not
Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle
Or half-moon made with a pen.
2nd Lady. Who taught you this?
Mam. I learnt it out of women’s faces.—Pray now
What color are your eyebrows46?
1st Lady. Blue, my lord.
Mam. Nay47, there’s a mock. I have seen a lady’s nose
That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.
2nd Lady. Hark ye;
The queen your mother rounds apace; we shall
Present our service to a fine new prince
One of these days; and then you’d wanton with us,
If we would have you.
1st Lady. She is spread of late
Into a goodly bulk. Good time encounter her!
Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you?—Come, sir, now
I am for you again. Pray you, sit by us,
And tell’s a tale.
Mam. Merry or sad shall’t be?
[128]
Her. As merry as you will.
Mam. A sad tale’s best for winter:
I have one of sprites and goblins.
Her. Let’s have that, good sir,
Come on, sit down. Come on, and do your best,
To fright me with your sprites, you’re powerful at it.
Mam. There was a man—
Her. Nay, come sit down; then on.
Mam. Dwelt by a churchyard—I will tell it softly;
Yond crickets shall not hear it.
Her. Come on then,
And give’t in mine ear.
There is enough Keltic quality here, surely, to satisfy both Mr. Yeats and Mr. Shorter. In fine, this tiny episode out of A Winter’s Tale is quite as good, and quite as Keltic, as anything the Blake School, to give it its honest title, has managed hitherto to produce. What the average Irishman would think about it is another story. It is a pity to take from Ireland even a trifle over which she might, not improperly48, plume49 herself. But Mr. Yeats in the figure of Irish poet reminds[129] us of nothing so much as a peacock butterfly purchased in the chrysalis state out of France by the careful entomologist, hidden in a plant-pot at his parlor50 window, and slaughtered51 and labeled British so soon as it has had time to spread its wistful wings.
点击收听单词发音
1 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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2 cult | |
n.异教,邪教;时尚,狂热的崇拜 | |
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3 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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4 rim | |
n.(圆物的)边,轮缘;边界 | |
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5 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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6 clement | |
adj.仁慈的;温和的 | |
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7 potent | |
adj.强有力的,有权势的;有效力的 | |
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8 prattles | |
v.(小孩般)天真无邪地说话( prattle的第三人称单数 );发出连续而无意义的声音;闲扯;东拉西扯 | |
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9 gusty | |
adj.起大风的 | |
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10 attenuated | |
v.(使)变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 );(使)变薄;(使)变小;减弱 | |
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11 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
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12 lamentably | |
adv.哀伤地,拙劣地 | |
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13 aspiration | |
n.志向,志趣抱负;渴望;(语)送气音;吸出 | |
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14 sundry | |
adj.各式各样的,种种的 | |
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15 contention | |
n.争论,争辩,论战;论点,主张 | |
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16 spun | |
v.纺,杜撰,急转身 | |
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17 bower | |
n.凉亭,树荫下凉快之处;闺房;v.荫蔽 | |
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18 foam | |
v./n.泡沫,起泡沫 | |
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19 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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20 wiles | |
n.(旨在欺骗或吸引人的)诡计,花招;欺骗,欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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21 stanzas | |
节,段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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22 lapse | |
n.过失,流逝,失效,抛弃信仰,间隔;vi.堕落,停止,失效,流逝;vt.使失效 | |
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23 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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24 saturated | |
a.饱和的,充满的 | |
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25 provocative | |
adj.挑衅的,煽动的,刺激的,挑逗的 | |
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26 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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27 muses | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的第三人称单数 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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28 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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29 epithets | |
n.(表示性质、特征等的)词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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30 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 poignancy | |
n.辛酸事,尖锐 | |
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32 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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33 appropriation | |
n.拨款,批准支出 | |
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34 scraps | |
油渣 | |
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35 wary | |
adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
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36 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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37 laurels | |
n.桂冠,荣誉 | |
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38 posthumous | |
adj.遗腹的;父亡后出生的;死后的,身后的 | |
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39 wigs | |
n.假发,法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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40 playwright | |
n.剧作家,编写剧本的人 | |
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41 modifications | |
n.缓和( modification的名词复数 );限制;更改;改变 | |
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42 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
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43 yoke | |
n.轭;支配;v.给...上轭,连接,使成配偶 | |
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44 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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45 abounds | |
v.大量存在,充满,富于( abound的第三人称单数 ) | |
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46 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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47 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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48 improperly | |
不正确地,不适当地 | |
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49 plume | |
n.羽毛;v.整理羽毛,骚首弄姿,用羽毛装饰 | |
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50 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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51 slaughtered | |
v.屠杀,杀戮,屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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