Liebe sonnt das Reich der Nacht.
“Der Triumph der Liebe.”
(Love illumes the realm of Night.)
Letter from Zanoni to Mejnour.
Paris.
Dost thou remember in the old time, when the Beautiful yet dwelt in Greece, how we two, in the vast Athenian Theatre, witnessed the birth of Words as undying as ourselves? Dost thou remember the thrill of terror that ran through that mighty1 audience, when the wild Cassandra burst from her awful silence to shriek2 to her relentless3 god! How ghastly, at the entrance of the House of Atreus, about to become her tomb, rang out her exclamations4 of foreboding woe5: “Dwelling abhorred6 of heaven!— human shamble-house and floor blood-bespattered!” (Aesch. “Agam.” 1098.) Dost thou remember how, amidst the breathless awe7 of those assembled thousands, I drew close to thee, and whispered, “Verily, no prophet like the poet! This scene of fabled8 horror comes to me as a dream, shadowing forth9 some likeness10 in my own remoter future!” As I enter this slaughter-house that scene returns to me, and I hearken to the voice of Cassandra ringing in my ears. A solemn and warning dread11 gathers round me, as if I too were come to find a grave, and “the Net of Hades” had already entangled12 me in its web! What dark treasure-houses of vicissitude13 and woe are our memories become! What our lives, but the chronicles of unrelenting death! It seems to me as yesterday when I stood in the streets of this city of the Gaul, as they shone with plumed14 chivalry15, and the air rustled16 with silken braveries. Young Louis, the monarch17 and the lover, was victor of the Tournament at the Carousel18; and all France felt herself splendid in the splendour of her gorgeous chief! Now there is neither throne nor altar; and what is in their stead? I see it yonder — the GUILLOTINE! It is dismal19 to stand amidst the ruins of mouldering20 cities, to startle the serpent and the lizard21 amidst the wrecks22 of Persepolis and Thebes; but more dismal still to stand as I— the stranger from Empires that have ceased to be-stand now amidst the yet ghastlier ruins of Law and Order, the shattering of mankind themselves! Yet here, even here, Love, the Beautifier, that hath led my steps, can walk with unshrinking hope through the wilderness23 of Death. Strange is the passion that makes a world in itself, that individualises the One amidst the Multitude; that, through all the changes of my solemn life, yet survives, though ambition and hate and anger are dead; the one solitary24 angel, hovering25 over a universe of tombs on its two tremulous and human wings,— Hope and Fear!
How is it, Mejnour, that, as my diviner art abandoned me,— as, in my search for Viola, I was aided but by the ordinary instincts of the merest mortal,— how is it that I have never desponded, that I have felt in every difficulty the prevailing26 prescience that we should meet at last? So cruelly was every vestige27 of her flight concealed28 from me,— so suddenly, so secretly had she fled, that all the spies, all the authorities of Venice, could give me no clew. All Italy I searched in vain! Her young home at Naples!— how still, in its humble29 chambers30, there seemed to linger the fragrance31 of her presence! All the sublimest33 secrets of our lore34 failed me,— failed to bring her soul visible to mine; yet morning and night, thou lone35 and childless one, morning and night, detached from myself, I can commune with my child! There in that most blessed, typical, and mysterious of all relations, Nature herself appears to supply what Science would refuse. Space cannot separate the father’s watchful36 soul from the cradle of his first-born! I know not of its resting-place and home,— my visions picture not the land,— only the small and tender life to which all space is as yet the heritage! For to the infant, before reason dawns,— before man’s bad passions can dim the essence that it takes from the element it hath left, there is no peculiar37 country, no native city, and no mortal language. Its soul as yet is the denizen38 of all airs and of every world; and in space its soul meets with mine,— the child communes with the father! Cruel and forsaking39 one,— thou for whom I left the wisdom of the spheres; thou whose fatal dower has been the weakness and terrors of humanity,— couldst thou think that young soul less safe on earth because I would lead it ever more up to heaven! Didst thou think that I could have wronged mine own? Didst thou not know that in its serenest40 eyes the life that I gave it spoke41 to warn, to upbraid42 the mother who would bind43 it to the darkness and pangs44 of the prison-house of clay? Didst thou not feel that it was I who, permitted by the Heavens, shielded it from suffering and disease? And in its wondrous45 beauty, I blessed the holy medium through which, at last, my spirit might confer with thine!
And how have I tracked them hither? I learned that thy pupil had been at Venice. I could not trace the young and gentle neophyte46 of Parthenope in the description of the haggard and savage47 visitor who had come to Viola before she fled; but when I would have summoned his IDEA before me, it refused to obey; and I knew then that his fate had become entwined with Viola’s. I have tracked him, then, to this Lazar House. I arrived but yesterday; I have not yet discovered him.
....
I have just returned from their courts of justice,— dens48 where tigers arraign49 their prey50. I find not whom I would seek. They are saved as yet; but I recognise in the crimes of mortals the dark wisdom of the Everlasting51. Mejnour, I see here, for the first time, how majestic52 and beauteous a thing is death! Of what sublime32 virtues53 we robbed ourselves, when, in the thirst for virtue54, we attained55 the art by which we can refuse to die! When in some happy clime, where to breathe is to enjoy, the charnel-house swallows up the young and fair; when in the noble pursuit of knowledge, Death comes to the student, and shuts out the enchanted56 land which was opening to his gaze,— how natural for us to desire to live; how natural to make perpetual life the first object of research! But here, from my tower of time, looking over the darksome past, and into the starry57 future, I learn how great hearts feel what sweetness and glory there is to die for the things they love! I saw a father sacrificing himself for his son; he was subjected to charges which a word of his could dispel,— he was mistaken for his boy. With what joy he seized the error, confessed the noble crimes of valour and fidelity58 which the son had indeed committed, and went to the doom59, exulting60 that his death saved the life he had given, not in vain! I saw women, young, delicate, in the bloom of their beauty; they had vowed61 themselves to the cloister63. Hands smeared64 with the blood of saints opened the gate that had shut them from the world, and bade them go forth, forget their vows65, forswear the Divine one these demons66 would depose67, find lovers and helpmates, and be free. And some of these young hearts had loved, and even, though in struggles, loved yet. Did they forswear the vow62? Did they abandon the faith? Did even love allure68 them? Mejnour, with one voice, they preferred to die. And whence comes this courage?— because such HEARTS LIVE IN SOME MORE ABSTRACT AND HOLIER LIFE THAN THEIR OWN. BUT TO LIVE FOREVER UPON THIS EARTH IS TO LIVE IN NOTHING DIVINER THAN OURSELVES. Yes, even amidst this gory69 butcherdom, God, the Ever-living, vindicates70 to man the sanctity of His servant, Death!
....
Again I have seen thee in spirit; I have seen and blessed thee, my sweet child! Dost thou not know me also in thy dreams? Dost thou not feel the beating of my heart through the veil of thy rosy71 slumbers72? Dost thou not hear the wings of the brighter beings that I yet can conjure73 around thee, to watch, to nourish, and to save? And when the spell fades at thy waking, when thine eyes open to the day, will they not look round for me, and ask thy mother, with their mute eloquence74, “Why she has robbed thee of a father?”
Woman, dost thou not repent75 thee? Flying from imaginary fears, hast thou not come to the very lair76 of terror, where Danger sits visible and incarnate77? Oh, if we could but meet, wouldst thou not fall upon the bosom78 thou hast so wronged, and feel, poor wanderer amidst the storms, as if thou hadst regained79 the shelter? Mejnour, still my researches fail me. I mingle80 with all men, even their judges and their spies, but I cannot yet gain the clew. I know that she is here. I know it by an instinct; the breath of my child seems warmer and more familiar.
They peer at me with venomous looks, as I pass through their streets. With a glance I disarm81 their malice82, and fascinate the basilisks. Everywhere I see the track and scent83 the presence of the Ghostly One that dwells on the Threshold, and whose victims are the souls that would ASPIRE84, and can only FEAR. I see its dim shapelessness going before the men of blood, and marshalling their way. Robespierre passed me with his furtive85 step. Those eyes of horror were gnawing86 into his heart. I looked down upon their senate; the grim Phantom87 sat cowering88 on its floor. It hath taken up its abode89 in the city of Dread. And what in truth are these would-be builders of a new world? Like the students who have vainly struggled after our supreme90 science, they have attempted what is beyond their power; they have passed from this solid earth of usages and forms into the land of shadow, and its loathsome91 keeper has seized them as its prey. I looked into the tyrant’s shuddering92 soul, as it trembled past me. There, amidst the ruins of a thousand systems which aimed at virtue, sat Crime, and shivered at its desolation. Yet this man is the only Thinker, the only Aspirant93, amongst them all. He still looks for a future of peace and mercy, to begin,— ay! at what date? When he has swept away every foe94. Fool! new foes95 spring from every drop of blood. Led by the eyes of the Unutterable, he is walking to his doom.
O Viola, thy innocence96 protects thee! Thou whom the sweet humanities of love shut out even from the dreams of aerial and spiritual beauty, making thy heart a universe of visions fairer than the wanderer over the rosy Hesperus can survey,— shall not the same pure affection encompass97 thee, even here, with a charmed atmosphere, and terror itself fall harmless on a life too innocent for wisdom?
收听单词发音 |
1
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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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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abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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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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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vicissitude
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| n.变化，变迁，荣枯，盛衰 | |
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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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carousel
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| n.旋转式行李输送带 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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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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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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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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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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sublimest
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| 伟大的( sublime的最高级 )； 令人赞叹的； 极端的； 不顾后果的 | |
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lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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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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denizen
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| n.居民，外籍居民 | |
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forsaking
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| 放弃( forsake的现在分词 )； 弃绝； 抛弃； 摒弃 | |
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serenest
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| serene（沉静的，宁静的，安宁的）的最高级形式 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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upbraid
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| v.斥责，责骂，责备 | |
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bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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neophyte
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| n.新信徒；开始者 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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arraign
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| v.提讯；控告 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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depose
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| vt.免职；宣誓作证 | |
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allure
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| n.诱惑力，魅力；vt.诱惑，引诱，吸引 | |
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gory
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| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
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vindicates
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| n.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的名词复数 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护v.澄清（某人/某事物）受到的责难或嫌疑( vindicate的第三人称单数 )；表明或证明（所争辩的事物）属实、正当、有效等；维护 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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disarm
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| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
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82
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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83
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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84
aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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85
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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86
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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87
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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88
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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89
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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90
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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91
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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92
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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93
aspirant
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| n.热望者；adj.渴望的 | |
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94
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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95
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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96
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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97
encompass
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| vt.围绕，包围；包含，包括；完成 | |
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