Vol. 2 CHAPTER I. SONG.

 

 

I confess I was a little dismayed to find what a solemn turn the club-stories had taken. But this dismay lasted for a moment only; for I saw that Adela was deeply interested, again wearing the look that indicates abstracted thought and feeling. I said to myself:

 

"This is very different mental fare from what you have been used to, Adela."

 

But she seemed able to mark, learn, and inwardly digest it, for she had the appearance of one who is stilled by the strange newness of her thoughts. I was sure that she was now experiencing a consciousness of existence quite different from anything she had known before. But it had a curious outcome.

 

For, when the silence began to grow painful, no one daring to ask a question, and Mrs. Cathcart had resumed her knitting, Adela suddenly rose, and going to the piano, struck a few chords, and began to sing. The song was one of Heine's strange, ghost-dreams, so unreal in everything but feeling, and therefore, as dreams, so true. Why did she choose such a song after what we had been listening to? I accounted for it by the supposition that, being but poorly provided as far as variety in music went, this was the only thing suggested to her by the tone of the paper, and, therefore, the nearest she could come to it. It served, however, to make a change and a transition; which was, as I thought, very desirable, lest any of the company should be scared from attending the club; and I resolved that I would divert the current, next time, if I could.

 

This was what Adela sang; and the singing of it was evidently a relief to her:

 

  I dreamt of the daughter of a king,

    With a cheek white, wet, and chill;

  Under the limes we sat murmuring,

    And holding each other so still!

 

  "Oh! not thy father's sceptre of gold,

    Nor yet his shining throne,

  Nor his diamond crown that glitters cold—

    'Tis thyself I want, my own!"

 

  "Oh! that is too good," she answered me;

    "I lie in the grave all day;

  And only at night I come to thee,

    For I cannot keep away."

It was something that she had volunteered a song, whatever it was. But it is a misfortune that, in writing a book, one cannot give the music of a song. Perhaps, by the time that music has its fair part in education, this may be done. But, meantime, we mention the fact of a song, and then give the words, as if that were the song. The music is the song, and the words are no more than the saddle on which the music sits, the singer being the horse, who could do without a saddle well enough.—May Adela forgive the comparison!—At the same time, a true-word song has music of its own, and is quite independent, for its music, both of that which it may beget¹, and of that with which it may be associated.

 

As she rose, she glanced towards the doctor, and said:

 

"Now it is your turn, Mr. Armstrong."

 

Harry² did not wait for a second invitation; for to sing was to him evidently a pleasure too great to be put in jeopardy³. He rose at once, and sitting down at the instrument, sang—I cannot say as follows, you see; I can only say the following words:

 

  Autumn clouds are flying, flying,

    O'er the waste of blue;

  Summer flowers are dying, dying,

    Late so lovely new.

  Labouring wains are slowly rolling

    Home with winter grain;

  Holy bells are slowly tolling⁴

    Over buried men.

 

  Goldener lights set noon a-sleeping

    Like an afternoon;

  Colder airs come stealing, creeping

    After sun and moon;

  And the leaves, all tired of blowing

    Cloudlike o'er the sun,

  Change to sunset-colours, knowing

    That their day is done.

 

  Autumn's sun is sinking, sinking

    Into Winter's night;

  And our hearts are thinking, thinking

    Of the cold and blight⁵.

  Our life's sun is slowly going

    Down the hill of might;

  Will our clouds shine golden-glowing

    On the slope of night?

 

  But the vanished corn is lying

    In rich golden glooms.

  In the churchyard, all the singing

    Is above the tombs.

  Spring will come, slow-lingering,

    Opening buds of faith.

  Man goes forth⁶ to meet his spring,

    Through the door of death.

 

  So we love, with no less loving,

    Hair that turns to grey;

  Or a step less lightly moving

    In life's autumn day.

  And if thought, still-brooding, lingers

    O'er each bygone thing,

  'Tis because old Autumn's fingers

    Paint in hues⁷ of Spring.

The whole tone of this song was practical and true, and so was fitted to correct the unhealthiness of imagination which might have been suspected in the choice of the preceding. "Words and music," I said to myself, "must here have come from the same hand; for they are one utterance⁸. There is no setting of words to music here; but the words have brought their own music with them; and the music has brought its own words."

 

As Harry rose from the piano-forte, he said to me gaily⁹:

 

"Now, Mr. Smith, it is your turn. I know when you sing, it will be something worth listening to."

 

"Indeed, I hope so," I answered. "But the song-hour has not yet come to me. How good you all ought to be who can sing! I feel as if my heart would break with delight, if I could sing; and yet there is not a sparrow on the housetop that cannot sing a better song than I."

 

"Your hour will come," said the clergyman, solemnly. "Then you will sing, and all we shall listen. There is no inborn¹⁰ longing¹¹ that shall not be fulfilled. I think that is as certain as the forgiveness of sins. Meantime, while your singing-robes are making, I will take your place with my song, if Miss Cathcart will allow me."

 

"Do, please," said Adela, very heartily¹²; "we shall all be delighted."

 

The clergyman sang, and sang even better than his brother. And these were the words of his song:

 

  The Mother Mary to the infant Jesus.

 

  'Tis time to sleep, my little boy;

    Why gaze they bright eyes so?

  At night, earth's children, for new joy,

    Home to thy Father go.

  But thou art wakeful. Sleep, my child;

    The moon and stars are gone;

  The wind and snow they grow more wild,

    And thou art smiling on.

 

  My child, thou hast immortal¹³ eyes,

    That see by their own light;

  They see the innocent blood—it lies

    Red-glowing through the night.

  Through wind and storm unto thine ear

    Cry after cry doth run;

  And yet thou seemest not to hear,

    And only smilest on.

 

  When first thou earnest to the earth,

    All sounds of strife¹⁴ were still;

  A silence lay around thy birth,

    And thou didst sleep thy fill.

  Why sleep'st thou—nay, why weep'st thou not?

    Thy earth is woe-begone;

  Babies and mothers wail¹⁵ their lot,

    And still thou smilest on.

 

  I read thine eyes like holy book;

    No strife is pictured there;

  Upon thy face I see the look

    Of one who answers prayer.

  Ah, yes!—Thine eyes, beyond this wild,

    Behold¹⁶ God's will well done;

  Men's songs thine ears are hearing, child;

    And so thou smilest on.

 

  The prodigals¹⁷ arise and go,

    And God goes forth to meet;

  Thou seest them gather, weeping low,

    About the Father's feet.

  And for their brothers men must bear,

    Till all are homeward gone.

  O Eyes, ye see my answered prayer!

    Smile, Son of God, smile on.

As soon as the vibrations¹⁸ of this song, I do not mean on the chords of the instrument, but in the echo-caves of our bosoms¹⁹, had ceased, I turned to the doctor and said:

 

"Are you ready with your story yet, Mr. Henry?"

 

"Oh, dear no!" he answered—"not for days. I am not an idle man like you, Mr. Smith. I belong to the labouring class."

 

I knew that he could not have it ready.

 

"Well," I said, "if our friends have no objection, I will give you another myself next time."

 

"Oh! thank you, uncle," said Adela.—"Another fairy tale, please."

 

"I can't promise you another fairy-tale just yet, but I can promise you something equally absurd, if that will do."

 

"Oh yes! Anything you like, uncle. I, for one, am sure to like what you like."

 

"Thank you, my dear. Now I will go; for I see the doctor waiting to have a word with you."

 

The company took their leave, and the doctor was not two minutes behind them; for as I went up to my room, after asking the curate when I might call upon him, I saw him come out of the drawing-room and go down stairs.

 

"Monday evening, then," I had heard the colonel say, as he followed his guests to the hall.

1 beget   

v.引起；产生

参考例句：

• Dragons beget dragons,phoenixes beget phoenixes.龙生龙，凤生凤。
• Economic tensions beget political ones.经济紧张导致政治紧张。

2 harry   

vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼

参考例句：

• Today,people feel more hurried and harried.今天，人们感到更加忙碌和苦恼。
• Obama harried business by Healthcare Reform plan.奥巴马用医改掠夺了商界。

3 jeopardy   

n.危险；危难

参考例句：

• His foolish behaviour may put his whole future in jeopardy.他愚蠢的行为可能毁了他一生的前程。
• It is precisely at this juncture that the boss finds himself in double jeopardy.恰恰在这个关键时刻，上司发现自己处于进退两难的境地。

4 tolling   

[财]来料加工

参考例句：

• A remote bell is tolling. 远处的钟声响了。
• Indeed, the bells were tolling, the people were trooping into the handsome church. 真的，钟声响了，人们成群结队走进富丽堂皇的教堂。

5 blight   

n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残

参考例句：

• The apple crop was wiped out by blight.枯萎病使苹果全无收成。
• There is a blight on all his efforts.他的一切努力都遭到挫折。

6 forth   

adv.向前；向外，往外

参考例句：

• The wind moved the trees gently back and forth.风吹得树轻轻地来回摇晃。
• He gave forth a series of works in rapid succession.他很快连续发表了一系列的作品。

7 hues   

色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点

参考例句：

• When the sun rose a hundred prismatic hues were reflected from it. 太阳一出，更把它映得千变万化、异彩缤纷。
• Where maple trees grow, the leaves are often several brilliant hues of red. 在枫树生长的地方，枫叶常常呈现出数种光彩夺目的红色。

8 utterance   

n.用言语表达，话语，言语

参考例句：

• This utterance of his was greeted with bursts of uproarious laughter.他的讲话引起阵阵哄然大笑。
• My voice cleaves to my throat,and sob chokes my utterance.我的噪子哽咽，泣不成声。

9 gaily   

adv.欢乐地，高兴地

参考例句：

• The children sing gaily.孩子们欢唱着。
• She waved goodbye very gaily.她欢快地挥手告别。

10 inborn   

adj.天生的，生来的，先天的

参考例句：

• He is a man with an inborn love of joke.他是一个生来就喜欢开玩笑的人。
• He had an inborn talent for languages.他有语言天分。

11 longing   

n.（for）渴望

参考例句：

• Hearing the tune again sent waves of longing through her.再次听到那首曲子使她胸中充满了渴望。
• His heart burned with longing for revenge.他心中燃烧着急欲复仇的怒火。

12 heartily   

adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很

参考例句：

• He ate heartily and went out to look for his horse.他痛快地吃了一顿，就出去找他的马。
• The host seized my hand and shook it heartily.主人抓住我的手，热情地和我握手。

13 immortal   

adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的

参考例句：

• The wild cocoa tree is effectively immortal.野生可可树实际上是不会死的。
• The heroes of the people are immortal!人民英雄永垂不朽！

14 strife   

n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争

参考例句：

• We do not intend to be drawn into the internal strife.我们不想卷入内乱之中。
• Money is a major cause of strife in many marriages.金钱是造成很多婚姻不和的一个主要原因。

15 wail   

vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸

参考例句：

• Somewhere in the audience an old woman's voice began plaintive wail.观众席里，一位老太太伤心地哭起来。
• One of the small children began to wail with terror.小孩中的一个吓得大哭起来。

16 behold   

v.看，注视，看到

参考例句：

• The industry of these little ants is wonderful to behold.这些小蚂蚁辛勤劳动的样子看上去真令人惊叹。
• The sunrise at the seaside was quite a sight to behold.海滨日出真是个奇景。

17 prodigals   

n.浪费的( prodigal的名词复数 )；铺张的；挥霍的；慷慨的

参考例句：

• Those prodigals were put into prison. 那些挥霍者被关进监狱。 来自互联网

18 vibrations   

n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动

参考例句：

• We could feel the vibrations from the trucks passing outside. 我们可以感到外面卡车经过时的颤动。
• I am drawn to that girl; I get good vibrations from her. 我被那女孩吸引住了，她使我产生良好的感觉。 来自《简明英汉词典》

19 bosoms   

胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形

参考例句：

• How beautifully gold brooches glitter on the bosoms of our patriotic women! 金光闪闪的别针佩在我国爱国妇女的胸前，多美呀！
• Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there weep our sad bosoms empty. 我们寻个僻静的地方，去痛哭一场吧。