Che non vuol che ‘l destrier piu vada in alto,
Poi lo lega nel margine marino
A un verde mirto in mezzo un lauro E Un Pino.
“Orlando Furioso,” c. vi. xxiii.
(As he did not wish that his charger (the hippogriff) should take any further excursions into the higher regions for the present, he bound him at the sea-shore to a green myrtle between a laurel and a pine.)
O Musician! art thou happy now? Thou art reinstalled at thy stately desk,— thy faithful barbiton has its share in the triumph. It is thy masterpiece which fills thy ear; it is thy daughter who fills the scene,— the music, the actress, so united, that applause to one is applause to both. They make way for thee, at the orchestra,— they no longer jeer1 and wink2, when, with a fierce fondness, thou dost caress3 thy Familiar, that plains, and wails5, and chides6, and growls7, under thy remorseless hand. They understand now how irregular is ever the symmetry of real genius. The inequalities in its surface make the moon luminous8 to man. Giovanni Paisiello, Maestro di Capella, if thy gentle soul could know envy, thou must sicken to see thy Elfrida and thy Pirro laid aside, and all Naples turned fanatic9 to the Siren, at whose measures shook querulously thy gentle head! But thou, Paisiello, calm in the long prosperity of fame, knowest that the New will have its day, and comfortest thyself that the Elfrida and the Pirro will live forever. Perhaps a mistake, but it is by such mistakes that true genius conquers envy. “To be immortal,” says Schiller, “live in the whole.” To be superior to the hour, live in thy self-esteem. The audience now would give their ears for those variations and flights they were once wont10 to hiss11. No!— Pisani has been two-thirds of a life at silent work on his masterpiece: there is nothing he can add to THAT, however he might have sought to improve on the masterpieces of others. Is not this common? The least little critic, in reviewing some work of art, will say, “pity this, and pity that;” “this should have been altered,— that omitted.” Yea, with his wiry fiddlestring will he creak out his accursed variations. But let him sit down and compose himself. He sees no improvement in variations THEN! Every man can control his fiddle12 when it is his own work with which its vagaries13 would play the devil.
And Viola is the idol14, the theme of Naples. She is the spoiled sultana of the boards. To spoil her acting15 may be easy enough,— shall they spoil her nature? No, I think not. There, at home, she is still good and simple; and there, under the awning16 by the doorway,— there she still sits, divinely musing17. How often, crook-trunked tree, she looks to thy green boughs18; how often, like thee, in her dreams, and fancies, does she struggle for the light,— not the light of the stage-lamps. Pooh, child! be contented19 with the lamps, even with the rush-lights. A farthing candle is more convenient for household purposes than the stars.
Weeks passed, and the stranger did not reappear; months had passed, and his prophecy of sorrow was not yet fulfilled. One evening Pisani was taken ill. His success had brought on the long-neglected composer pressing applications for concerti20 and sonata21, adapted to his more peculiar22 science on the violin. He had been employed for some weeks, day and night, on a piece in which he hoped to excel himself. He took, as usual, one of those seemingly impracticable subjects which it was his pride to subject to the expressive23 powers of his art,— the terrible legend connected with the transformation24 of Philomel. The pantomime of sound opened with the gay merriment of a feast. The monarch25 of Thrace is at his banquet; a sudden discord26 brays27 through the joyous28 notes,— the string seems to screech29 with horror. The king learns the murder of his son by the hands of the avenging30 sisters. Swift rage the chords, through the passions of fear, of horror, of fury, and dismay. The father pursues the sisters. Hark! what changes the dread31 — the discord — into that long, silvery, mournful music? The transformation is completed; and Philomel, now the nightingale, pours from the myrtle-bough the full, liquid, subduing32 notes that are to tell evermore to the world the history of her woes33 and wrongs. Now, it was in the midst of this complicated and difficult attempt that the health of the over-tasked musician, excited alike by past triumph and new ambition, suddenly gave way. He was taken ill at night. The next morning the doctor pronounced that his disease was a malignant35 and infectious fever. His wife and Viola shared in their tender watch; but soon that task was left to the last alone. The Signora Pisani caught the infection, and in a few hours was even in a state more alarming than that of her husband. The Neapolitans, in common with the inhabitants of all warm climates, are apt to become selfish and brutal36 in their dread of infectious disorders37. Gionetta herself pretended to be ill, to avoid the sick-chamber38. The whole labour of love and sorrow fell on Viola. It was a terrible trial,— I am willing to hurry over the details. The wife died first!
One day, a little before sunset, Pisani woke partially39 recovered from the delirium40 which had preyed41 upon him, with few intervals42, since the second day of the disease; and casting about him his dizzy and feeble eyes, he recognised Viola, and smiled. He faltered43 her name as he rose and stretched his arms. She fell upon his breast, and strove to suppress her tears.
“Thy mother?” he said. “Does she sleep?”
“She sleeps,— ah, yes!” and the tears gushed44 forth45.
“I thought — eh! I know not WHAT I have thought. But do not weep: I shall be well now,— quite well. She will come to me when she wakes,— will she?”
Viola could not speak; but she busied herself in pouring forth an anodyne46, which she had been directed to give the sufferer as soon as the delirium should cease. The doctor had told her, too, to send for him the instant so important a change should occur.
She went to the door and called to the woman who, during Gionetta’s pretended illness, had been induced to supply her place; but the hireling answered not. She flew through the chambers47 to search for her in vain,— the hireling had caught Gionetta’s fears, and vanished. What was to be done? The case was urgent,— the doctor had declared not a moment should be lost in obtaining his attendance; she must leave her father,— she must go herself! She crept back into the room,— the anodyne seemed already to have taken benign48 effect; the patient’s eyes were closed, and he breathed regularly, as in sleep. She stole away, threw her veil over her face, and hurried from the house.
Now the anodyne had not produced the effect which it appeared to have done; instead of healthful sleep, it had brought on a kind of light-headed somnolence49, in which the mind, preternaturally restless, wandered about its accustomed haunts, waking up its old familiar instincts and inclinations51. It was not sleep,— it was not delirium; it was the dream-wakefulness which opium52 sometimes induces, when every nerve grows tremulously alive, and creates a corresponding activity in the frame, to which it gives a false and hectic53 vigour54. Pisani missed something,— what, he scarcely knew; it was a combination of the two wants most essential to his mental life,— the voice of his wife, the touch of his Familiar. He rose,— he left his bed, he leisurely55 put on his old dressing-robe, in which he had been wont to compose. He smiled complacently56 as the associations connected with the garment came over his memory; he walked tremulously across the room, and entered the small cabinet next to his chamber, in which his wife had been accustomed more often to watch than sleep, when illness separated her from his side. The room was desolate57 and void. He looked round wistfully, and muttered to himself, and then proceeded regularly, and with a noiseless step, through the chambers of the silent house, one by one.
He came at last to that in which old Gionetta — faithful to her own safety, if nothing else — nursed herself, in the remotest corner of the house, from the danger of infection. As he glided58 in,— wan50, emaciated59, with an uneasy, anxious, searching look in his haggard eyes,— the old woman shrieked60 aloud, and fell at his feet. He bent61 over her, passed his thin hands along her averted62 face, shook his head, and said in a hollow voice,—
“I cannot find them; where are they?”
“Who, dear master? Oh, have compassion63 on yourself; they are not here. Blessed saints! this is terrible; he has touched me; I am dead!”
“Dead! who is dead? Is any one dead?”
“Ah! don’t talk so; you must know it well: my poor mistress,— she caught the fever from you; it is infectious enough to kill a whole city. San Gennaro protect me! My poor mistress, she is dead,— buried, too; and I, your faithful Gionetta, woe34 is me! Go, go — to — to bed again, dearest master,— go!”
The poor musician stood for one moment mute and unmoving, then a slight shiver ran through his frame; he turned and glided back, silent and spectre-like, as he had entered. He came into the room where he had been accustomed to compose,— where his wife, in her sweet patience, had so often sat by his side, and praised and flattered when the world had but jeered64 and scorned. In one corner he found the laurel-wreath she had placed on his brows that happy night of fame and triumph; and near it, half hid by her mantilla, lay in its case the neglected instrument.
Viola was not long gone: she had found the physician; she returned with him; and as they gained the threshold, they heard a strain of music from within,— a strain of piercing, heart-rending anguish65. It was not like some senseless instrument, mechanical in its obedience66 to a human hand,— it was as some spirit calling, in wail4 and agony from the forlorn shades, to the angels it beheld67 afar beyond the Eternal Gulf68. They exchanged glances of dismay. They hurried into the house; they hastened into the room. Pisani turned, and his look, full of ghastly intelligence and stern command, awed69 them back. The black mantilla, the faded laurel-leaf, lay there before him. Viola’s heart guessed all at a single glance; she sprung to his knees; she clasped them,—“Father, father, I am left thee still!”
The wail ceased,— the note changed; with a confused association — half of the man, half of the artist — the anguish, still a melody, was connected with sweeter sounds and thoughts. The nightingale had escaped the pursuit,— soft, airy, bird-like, thrilled the delicious notes a moment, and then died away. The instrument fell to the floor, and its chords snapped. You heard that sound through the silence. The artist looked on his kneeling child, and then on the broken chords... “Bury me by her side,” he said, in a very calm, low voice; “and THAT by mine.” And with these words his whole frame became rigid70, as if turned to stone. The last change passed over his face. He fell to the ground, sudden and heavy. The chords THERE, too,— the chords of the human instrument were snapped asunder71. As he fell, his robe brushed the laurel-wreath, and that fell also, near but not in reach of the dead man’s nerveless hand.
Broken instrument, broken heart, withered72 laurel-wreath!— the setting sun through the vine-clad lattice streamed on all! So smiles the eternal Nature on the wrecks73 of all that make life glorious! And not a sun that sets not somewhere on the silenced music,— on the faded laurel!
收听单词发音 |
1
jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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wails
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| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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chides
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| v.责骂，责备( chide的第三人称单数 ) | |
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growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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fanatic
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| n.狂热者，入迷者；adj.狂热入迷的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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concerti
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| 协奏曲( concerto的名词复数 ) | |
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sonata
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| n.奏鸣曲 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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brays
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| n.驴叫声，似驴叫的声音( bray的名词复数 )；（喇叭的）嘟嘟声v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的第三人称单数 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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avenging
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| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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subduing
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| 征服( subdue的现在分词 )； 克制； 制服； 色变暗 | |
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woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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preyed
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| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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anodyne
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| n.解除痛苦的东西，止痛剂 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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49
somnolence
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| n.想睡，梦幻；欲寐；嗜睡；嗜眠 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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inclinations
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| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
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opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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53
hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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72
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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