维纳斯与阿都尼（中英）_English Corner

维纳斯与阿都尼(1)
Venus and Adonis(1)

引用
鄙夫俗士，望敝屣而下拜；我则求：阿波罗饮我以缪斯泉水流溢之玉杯。献与扫桑普顿伯爵兼提齐菲尔男爵亨利娄赛斯雷阁下阁下，仆今以鄙俚粗陋之诗篇，献于阁下，其冒昧干渎，自不待言；而仆以此荏弱之柔条纤梗，竟谬欲缘附桢干栋梁以自固，其将招物议之

英：
'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD.

RIGHT HONORABLE,
I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.

Your honour's in all duty,
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.

Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.

Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;

And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'

With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.

Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens: -- O, how quick is love! --
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.

So soon was she along as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'

He burns with bashful shame: she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks:
He saith she is immodest, blames her 'miss;
What follows more she murders with a kiss.

Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,
Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone;
Even so she kissed his brow, his cheek, his chin,
And where she ends she doth anew begin.

Forced to content, but never to obey,
Panting he lies and breatheth in her face;
She feedeth on the steam as on a prey,
And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace;
Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,
So they were dew'd with such distilling showers.

Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies;
Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret,
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes:
Rain added to a river that is rank
Perforce will force it overflow the bank.

Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale;
Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets,
Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale:
Being red, she loves him best; and being white,
Her best is better'd with a more delight.

Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;
And by her fair immortal hand she swears,
From his soft bosom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet;
And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.

Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,
Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in;
So offers he to give what she did crave;
But when her lips were ready for his pay,
He winks, and turns his lips another way.

Never did passenger in summer's heat
More thirst for drink than she for this good turn.
Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:
O, pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy!
Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy?

I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now,
Even by the stern and direful god of war,
Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow,
Who conquers where he comes in every jar;
Yet hath he been my captive and my slave,
And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have.

Over my altars hath he hung his lance,
His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest,
And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance,
To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest,
Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.

Thus he that overruled I oversway'd,
Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain:
Strong-tempered steel his stronger strength obey'd,
Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.
O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight!

Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, --
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red --
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine.
What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head:
Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies;
Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?
Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again,
And I will wink; so shall the day seem night;
Love keeps his revels where they are but twain;
Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight:
These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.

The tender spring upon thy tempting lip
Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted:
Make use of time, let not advantage slip;
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:
Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime
Rot and consume themselves in little time.

Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old,
Ill-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,
O'erworn, despised, rheumatic and cold,
Thick-sighted, barren, lean and lacking juice,
Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee
But having no defects, why dost abhor me?

Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow;
Mine eyes are gray and bright and quick in turning:
My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,
My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning;
My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,
Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.

Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,
Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green,
Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair,
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:
Love is a spirit all compact of fire,
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.

Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie;
These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me;
Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky,
From morn till night, even where I list to sport me:
Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be
That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee?

Is thine own heart to thine own face affected?
Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left?
Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected,
Steal thine own freedom and complain on theft.
Narcissus so himself himself forsook,
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.

Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,
Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use,
Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear:
Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse:
Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty;
Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty.

Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed,
Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?
By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
That thine may live when thou thyself art dead;
And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive,
In that thy likeness still is left alive.'

By this the love-sick queen began to sweat,
For where they lay the shadow had forsook them,
And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat,
With burning eye did hotly overlook them;
Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,
So he were like him and by Venus' side.

And now Adonis, with a lazy spright,
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky,
Souring his cheeks cries 'Fie, no more of love!
The sun doth burn my face: I must remove.'

Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind?
What bare excuses makest thou to be gone!
I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this descending sun:
I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs;
If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.

The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee:
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me;
And were I not immortal, life were done
Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel,
Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth?
Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel
What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth?
O, had thy mother borne so hard a mind,
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.

What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me this?
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?
Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute:
Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again,
And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain.

Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Well-painted idol, image dun and dead,
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred!
Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion,
For men will kiss even by their own direction.'

This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth he wrong;
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause:
And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak,
And now her sobs do her intendments break.

Sometimes she shakes her head and then his hand,
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;
Sometimes her arms infold him like a band:
She would, he will not in her arms be bound;
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lily fingers one in one.

Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

Within this limit is relief enough,
Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain,
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain
Then be my deer, since I am such a park;
No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.'

At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple:
Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple;
Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
Why, there Love lived and there he could not die.

These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits,
Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking.
Being mad before, how doth she now for wits?
Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking?
Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,
To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn!

Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say?
Her words are done, her woes are more increasing;
The time is spent, her object will away,
And from her twining arms doth urge releasing.
Pity,' she cries, 'some favour, some remorse!'
Away he springs and hasteth to his horse.

But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbors by,
A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud,
Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder;
The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controlled with.

His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane
Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end;
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:
His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,
Shows his hot courage and his high desire.

Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,
With gentle majesty and modest pride;
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who should say 'Lo, thus my strength is tried,
And this I do to captivate the eye
Of the fair breeder that is standing by.'

What recketh he his rider's angry stir,
His flattering 'Holla,' or his 'Stand, I say'?
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?
For rich caparisons or trapping gay?
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

Look, when a painter would surpass the life,
In limning out a well-proportion'd steed,
His art with nature's workmanship at strife,
As if the dead the living should exceed;
So did this horse excel a common one
In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.

Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:
Look, what a horse should have he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
And whether he run or fly they know not whether;
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.

He looks upon his love and neighs unto her;
She answers him as if she knew his mind:
Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,
She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind,
Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels.

Then, like a melancholy malcontent,
He veils his tail that, like a falling plume,
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent:
He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume.
His love, perceiving how he is enraged,
Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged.

His testy master goeth about to take him;
When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear,
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:
As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.

All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boisterous and unruly beast:
And now the happy season once more fits,
That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest;
For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:
So of concealed sorrow may be said;
Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;
But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.

He sees her coming, and begins to glow,
Even as a dying coal revives with wind,
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;
Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind,
Taking no notice that she is so nigh,
For all askance he holds her in his eye.

O, what a sight it was, wistly to view
How she came stealing to the wayward boy!
To note the fighting conflict of her hue,
How white and red each other did destroy!
But now her cheek was pale, and by and by
It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky.

Now was she just before him as he sat,
And like a lowly lover down she kneels;
With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:
His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print,
As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.

O, what a war of looks was then between them!
Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing;
His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them;
Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing:
And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.

Full gently now she takes him by the hand,
A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band;
So white a friend engirts so white a foe:
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.

Once more the engine of her thoughts began:
O fairest mover on this mortal round,
Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound;
For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,
Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee!

Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou feel it?'
Give me my heart,' saith she, 'and thou shalt have it:
O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it,
And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it:
Then love's deep groans I never shall regard,
Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.'

For shame,' he cries, 'let go, and let me go;
My day's delight is past, my horse is gone,
And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so:
I pray you hence, and leave me here alone;
For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.'

Thus she replies: 'Thy palfrey, as he should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire:
Affection is a coal that must be cool'd;
Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire:
The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none;
Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.

How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree,
Servilely master'd with a leathern rein!
But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee,
He held such petty bondage in disdain;
Throwing the base thong from his bending crest,
Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.

Who sees his true-love in her naked bed,
Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed,
His other agents aim at like delight?
Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold
To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy;
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,
To take advantage on presented joy;
Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee;
O, learn to love; the lesson is but plain,
And once made perfect, never lost again.'

I know not love,' quoth he, 'nor will not know it,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;
Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
My love to love is love but to disgrace it;
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.

Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If springing things be any jot diminish'd,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:
The colt that's back'd and burden'd being young
Loseth his pride and never waxeth strong.

You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part,
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat:
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;
To love's alarms it will not ope the gate:
Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery;
For where a heart is hard they make no battery.'

What! canst thou talk?' quoth she, 'hast thou a tongue?
O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing!
Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong;
I had my load before, now press'd with bearing:
Melodious discord, heavenly tune harshsounding,
Ear's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore wounding.

Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love
That inward beauty and invisible;
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
Each part in me that were but sensible:
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
Yet should I be in love by touching thee.

Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch,
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much;
For from the stillitory of thy face excelling
Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love by smelling.

But, O, what banquet wert thou to the taste,
Being nurse and feeder of the other four!
Would they not wish the feast might ever last,
And bid Suspicion double-lock the door,
Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?'

Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,
Which to his speech did honey passage yield;
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd
Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field,
Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,
Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

This ill presage advisedly she marketh:
Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,
Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
His meaning struck her ere his words begun.

And at his look she flatly falleth down,
For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth;
A smile recures the wounding of a frown;
But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth!
The silly boy, believing she is dead,
Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red;

And all amazed brake off his late intent,
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which cunning love did wittily prevent:
Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her!
For on the grass she lies as she were slain,
Till his breath breatheth life in her again.

He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd:
He kisses her; and she, by her good will,
Will never rise, so he will kiss her still.

The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day:
Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth;
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
So is her face illumined with her eye;

Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd,
As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine.
Were never four such lamps together mix'd,
Had not his clouded with his brow's repine;
But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,
Shone like the moon in water seen by night.

O, where am I?' quoth she, 'in earth or heaven,
Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire?
What hour is this? or morn or weary even?
Do I delight to die, or life desire?
But now I lived, and life was death's annoy;
But now I died, and death was lively joy.

O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again:
Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,
Hath taught them scornful tricks and such disdain
That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine;
And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.

Long may they kiss each other, for this cure!
O, never let their crimson liveries wear!
And as they last, their verdure still endure,
To drive infection from the dangerous year!
That the star-gazers, having writ on death,
May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath.

Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?
To sell myself I can be well contented,
So thou wilt buy and pay and use good dealing;
Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips
Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips.

A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.
What is ten hundred touches unto thee?
Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?
Say, for non-payment that the debt should double,
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?

Fair queen,' quoth he, 'if any love you owe me,
Measure my strangeness with my unripe years:
Before I know myself, seek not to know me;
No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears:
The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast,
Or being early pluck'd is sour to taste.

Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait,
His day's hot task hath ended in the west;
The owl, night's herald, shrieks, ''Tis very late;'
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest,
And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light
Do summon us to part and bid good night.

Now let me say 'Good night,' and so say you;
If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.'
Good night,' quoth she, and, ere he says 'Adieu,'
The honey fee of parting tender'd is:
Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace;
Incorporate then they seem; face grows to face.

Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,
Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth:
He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth
Their lips together glued, fall to the earth.

Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth;
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ransom the insulter willeth;
Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high,
That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry:

And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,
With blindfold fury she begins to forage;
Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil,
And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage,
Planting oblivion, beating reason back,
Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's wrack.

Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tamed with too much handling,
Or as the fleet-foot roe that's tired with chasing,
Or like the froward infant still'd with dandling,
He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,
While she takes all she can, not all she listeth.

What wax so frozen but dissolves with tempering,
And yields at last to every light impression?
Things out of hope are compass'd oft with venturing,
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission:
Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward,
But then woos best when most his choice is froward.

When he did frown, O, had she then gave over,
Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd.
Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;
What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis pluck'd:
Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,
Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.

For pity now she can no more detain him;
The poor fool prays her that he may depart:
She is resolved no longer to restrain him;
Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart,
The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest,
He carries thence incaged in his breast.

Sweet boy,' she says, 'this night I'll waste in sorrow,
For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch.
Tell me, Love's master, shall we meet to-morrow?
Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?'
He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends
To hunt the boar with certain of his friends.

The boar!' quoth she; whereat a sudden pale,
Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,
Usurps her cheek; she trembles at his tale,
And on his neck her yoking arms she throws:
She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck,
He on her belly falls, she on her back.

Now is she in the very lists of love,
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter:
All is imaginary she doth prove,
He will not manage her, although he mount her;
That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy,
To clip Elysium and to lack her joy.

Even as poor birds, deceived with painted grapes,
Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw,
Even so she languisheth in her mishaps,
As those poor birds that helpless berries saw.
The warm effects which she in him finds missing
She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.

But all in vain; good queen, it will not be:
She hath assay'd as much as may be proved;
Her pleading hath deserved a greater fee;
She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not loved.
Fie, fie,' he says, 'you crush me; let me go;
You have no reason to withhold me so.'

Thou hadst been gone,' quoth she, 'sweet boy, ere this,
But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is
With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,
Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still,
Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill.

On his bow-back he hath a battle set
Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret;
His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;
Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
And whom he strikes his cruel tushes slay.

His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,
Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture:
The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.

Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes;
Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
But having thee at vantage, -- wondrous dread! --
Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.

O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still;
Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:
Come not within his danger by thy will;
They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.
When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.

Didst thou not mark my face? was it not white?
Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye?
Grew I not faint? and fell I not downright?
Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie,
My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,
But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.

For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy
Doth call himself Affection's sentinel;
Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,
And in a peaceful hour doth cry 'Kill, kill!'
Distempering gentle Love in his desire,
As air and water do abate the fire.

This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy,
This canker that eats up Love's tender spring,
This carry-tale, dissentious Jealousy,
That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring,
Knocks at my heat and whispers in mine ear
That if I love thee, I thy death should fear:

And more than so, presenteth to mine eye
The picture of an angry-chafing boar,
Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie
An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore;
Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed
Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.

What should I do, seeing thee so indeed,
That tremble at the imagination?
The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed,
And fear doth teach it divination:
I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow,
If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow.

But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me;
Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
Or at the fox which lives by subtlety,
Or at the roe which no encounter dare:
Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hounds.

And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles
How he outruns the wind and with what care
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
The many musets through the which he goes
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.

Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,
To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,
And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
To stop the loud pursuers in their yell,
And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer:
Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear:

For there his smell with others being mingled,
The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled
With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,
As if another chase were in the skies.

中：

鄙夫俗士，望敝屣而下拜；我则求：
阿波罗饮我以缪斯泉水流溢之玉杯。
献与
扫桑普顿伯爵兼提齐菲尔男爵
亨利•娄赛斯雷阁下

阁下，
仆今以鄙俚粗陋之诗篇，献于阁下，其冒昧干渎，自不待言；而仆以此荏弱之柔条纤梗，竟谬欲缘附桢干栋梁以自固，其将招物议之非难，亦不待言。然苟阁下不惜纡尊，笑而纳此芹献，则非特仆之为荣，亦已过当，且誓将以有生之暇日，竭其勤恳之微力，从事差可不负阁下青睐之作以自励。设此初次问世之篇章，不堪入目，则有负阁下之栽培，诚惶恐之不暇，更何敢再事此硗瘠砚田之耕耘，以重其以芜杂之同亵渎清听之罪乎？窃不自谅，以为凡此一切，皆阁下之叡知及明鉴是赖，即阁下之所欲，与世人之所期待，亦莫不以此是赖也。

阁下犬马仆
威廉•莎士比亚

太阳刚刚东升，圆圆的脸又大又红，
泣露的清晓也刚刚别去，犹留遗踪，
双颊绯红的阿都尼，就已驰逐匆匆。
他爱好的是追猎，他嗤笑的是谈情。
维纳斯偏把单思害，急急忙忙，紧紧随定，
拚却女儿羞容，凭厚颜，要演一出凰求凤。

她先夸他美，说，“你比我还美好几倍。
地上百卉你为魁，芬芳清逸绝无对。
仙子比你失颜色，壮男比你空雄伟。
你洁白胜过白鸽子，娇红胜过红玫瑰。
造化生你，自斗智慧，使你一身，俊秀荟萃。
她说，‘你若一旦休，便天地同尽，万物共毁。’

“你这奇异的英华，请你屈尊先下骏马。
且把昂然的马首鞍头络，缰绳鞍头搭。
你若赏脸肯贬身价，那我的温存浃洽，
有万般未经人知的甜蜜，作你的酬答。
咱们到这永无嘶嘶蛇鸣的地方先坐下，
坐定后，要紧紧相偎倚，我好把你来吻杀。

“我这吻，决不会因过多而腻得你恶心，
它若越多，它就越会惹得你饥渴难忍。
它叫你的嘴唇时红时白，变化无穷尽。
十吻犹似一吻新，一吻就甜过二十吻。
如果在这样消遣光阴的娱乐中共厮混，
那么，炎夏迟迟的长日，都要去得像一瞬。”

她这样讲，并捉住他汗津津的手不放。
（汗津津的，表示他精力充沛、血气盛旺）
风情激得她颤声叫这汗是玉液琼浆，
世上给女神治相思的灵药，数它最强。
爱焰给了她一股力量，弄得她如痴如狂，
叫她勇气勃勃地，把他从马上揪到地上。

她一只手挽住了缰绳，把骏马轻拢，
另一只胳膊把那嫩孩子紧紧挟定。
只见他又红脸，又噘嘴，老那么心硬，
似木石无灵，不懂什么叫男女风情。
她脸又红，心又热，似一团炭火，熊熊融融，
他脸也红，心却冷，只羞似霞烘，严如霜凝。

她轻快敏捷地——使她这样的是爱力——
把镂饰的缰绳在皴裂的树枝上拴起。
马已经这样系牢，她就连忙打主意，
想把骑马那个人的心也牢牢紧系。
她像愿意人家对她那样，推他仰卧在地。
爱既无法使他就范，她就用力把他控制。

他一倒在尘埃，她也卧下和他并排。
他们用胳膊和胯骨支身，侧卧相挨。
他直皱眉头，她就直抚摸他的两腮。
他开口骂，她就用吻把他的嘴堵塞。
她一边吻，一边把情话续续断断讲起来。
“你要是骂，我就堵住了你，叫你有口难开。”

他又烦躁、又害臊，闹得两腮似火烧。
她就用泪往他处女一般热的脸上浇。
接着又叹息像轻风嫋，金发像日色耀，
把汗在他脸上的泪痕，给他吹干拂掉。
他骂她轻佻，说她不知自好，净卖弄风骚。
他还要絮叨，她就用嘴堵得他语咽声销。

空腹的苍鹰，饿得眼疾心急，馋涎欲滴，
抓住小鸟，用利喙把毛、肉、骨头一齐撕。
鼓翼助威势，贪婪猛吞噬，忙忙又急急，
饥胃填不满，食物咽不尽，就无停止时。
她就像这样，把他的额、腮、下颏吻个不已，
因为她吻完了一遍，又从头儿开始吻起。

他无奈只好不抵抗，要他情愿却难想。
他躺在那儿直喘息，气都扑到她脸上。
她把这气吸，像强者吃弱者的肉那样。
她说这就是天降的云液，神赐的玉浆；
她恨不得她的双颊就是花园，花发草长，
好来承受这样甘霖的灌溉，琼露的滋养。

你曾见过小鸟落了网罗，无法能逃脱？
阿都尼在她怀里，就像小鸟落了网罗。
他懊恼，半因羞涩，半因不敢强挣硬夺。
他的两眼越含嗔，他的美貌越增颜色。
本来就满了槽的河水，再加上大雨滂沱，
势必溢出河槽，往两岸氾滥，把四处淹没。

她一直地苦诉衷怀，迷人地苦诉衷怀，
因为她要对迷人的两耳，把心事表白。
但是他却老闹脾气，老皱头，老不耐，
有时羞得脸通红，又有时气得脸灰白。
脸红时她最爱，脸白时她就爱上更加爱，
那比起她所最爱的来，更叫她笑逐颜开。

不管他羞答答，怒冲冲，她看着都动情。
她指着她那永远纤柔、白嫩的手作证，
说她决不离开他那柔软温暖的酥胸，
除非他被她的眼泪所驯服，言听计从；
因为她早就已经泪如雨倾，满脸上纵横。
甜甜一吻，就能把本来没有完的债还清。
他听她作了这样誓词，便把下颏仰起。

但他正要把她所求的东西勉强赐给，
却像鸊鹈在水里那样，稍一探头窥伺，
看见有人了望，就又一下钻回了水底。
因此她虽把双唇噘起，准备他对她还礼，
他却把嘴转到另一边，同时把眼睛一闭。

夏日炎炎中路上的人，即便渴得要晕，
也从来没有像她那样，急于一润渴吻。
她只闻香却难到口，这心痒叫人怎忍。
她泪水如浴似淋，却救不得心火如焚。
“哎呀，”她喊道，“你这孩子心如铁石真好狠，
我不过只求你一吻，又何必这样苦悭吝。

“我也曾有一度被追求得忙，像你这样。
追我的非别个，是战神，威凛冽，貌昂藏。
他在战场上，从未低过头，出名的强项。
他到处战无不胜，从来就没打过败仗。
然而他却是我的俘虏，甘心作我的厮养。
他向我求过现在你能不求而获的欢畅。

“他那伤痕斑斑的盾，百战犹完的甲，
还有长矛，都曾在我的祭坛上闲挂，
他为我，学会了蹁跹舞步，诸般戏耍，
他为我，学会了打情骂俏，斗口磨牙，
耳里厌闻战鼓喧闹，眼里厌看旌旗飘飒；
在我的绣榻上安营，在我的玉臂间厮杀。

“这样，以威势服人的还得服我的威势。
一根红玫瑰链子，就拴得他匍匐在地。
多么硬的钢铁，在他手里都成了烂泥。
然而我对他鄙夷，他却只有奴颜婢膝。
你现在能使制伏了战神的我低声下气，
请不必骄傲夸耀，回答我的爱才是正理。

“你只把你的香唇触到我的嘴唇上，
（我的嘴唇也很红，虽然没有你的香），
那这个吻的甜蜜，咱们就能同受共享。
抬起头来！地上有什么吸引你的眼光？
往我瞳人里望，那儿有你的倩影深深藏。
眼和眼既然成对，唇和唇为何不能成双？
“你接吻不惯？那你就闭上眼，不要看。
我也闭上眼。这样，白天就仿佛夜晚。
只要有一女一男，‘爱’就能取乐追欢。
你要放胆，咱们尽管畅玩，没人看见。
咱们身下这紫络的二月蓝，决不会多言，
它们也不懂得，咱们为什么要如此这般。

“你迷人的嘴上黄毛嫩，说你还是童孩。
但你却早就有秀色可餐，有英华堪采。
行乐须及时，莫疑猜，机会错过不复来。
丽质应该传代，及身而止，只暴殄美材。
好花盛开，就该尽先摘，慎莫待美景难再，
否则一瞬间，它就要雕零萎谢，落在尘埃。

“我若头秃脸麻，形容老丑，鸡皮鹤发；
我若性情粗暴，行动乖戾，举止欠雅；
患风湿，长癣疥，枯瘦干瘪，嗓音粗哑；
千人厌，万人弃，先天不育，两眼昏花：
那你退缩原也不差；因我和你本难配搭。
但这既都不在话下，到底什么叫你惊怕？

“你在我额上，决不会找出来半条皱纹。
我的眼水汪汪碧波欲流，转盼多风韵。
我的美丽像春日，年年不老，岁岁更新。
我的肌肤丰润，连骨髓里都春情欲焚。
我这腻滑的手，你若肯握一握表示亲近，
它就要在你手里，如酥欲融，化去不复存。

“我也会闲谈答话，作悦耳的解语花；
我也会学精灵，在绿莎上细步轻踏；
我也会学水中仙子，飘飘披着长发，
用平沙作舞茵，却不见有脚踪留下。
爱之为物，本是火的精华，空灵、倏忽、飘洒，
并非重浊而下沉，却是轻清上浮而欲化。

“你看我身下坡陀上的樱草，虽然荏弱，
却能像粗壮的大树，把我的身子轻托。
拉着我的辇周天游遍的，是两只鹁鸽：
它们弱小，却能叫我整天价到处行乐。
爱既这样轻盈柔和，那么，你这个小哥哥，
却为什么，把它看作是沉重得难以负荷？

“难道你会无端爱上了自己的面孔？
难道你的右手会抓住了左手谈情？
那样，你只好自爱自，自弃自，一场空，
自陷自设的情网，自怨解脱不可能。
那耳喀索斯①就这样自己作了自己的爱宠，
后来还为吻泉水中自己的影子送了命。

“蜡炬点起光明来，珠翠盛饰增仪态，
珍馐美味为适口，绮年玉貌宜欢爱，
欲嗅芳芬芳馨折，欲采果实果树栽。
生而只为己，辜负天地好生的本怀。
种因种生，种复生种，天生丽质也无例外；
父母生了你，你再生子女，本你份内应该。

“如果你不繁殖，供给大地生息之资，
那大地为什么就该繁殖，供你生息？
按照自然的大道理，你必须留后嗣：
这样，一旦你死去，你仍旧可以不死；
这样，你虽然死去，却实在仍旧永存于世：
因为有和你一样的生命，永远延续不止。”

说这里，害单思的爱神津津汗湿，
因为他们躺的地方，阴影已经渐移。
日神在中午正热的时候，也有倦意，
眼里冒火，看着下方这对男顽女痴。
他恨不得阿都尼能替他把车马来驾驶，
自己却像阿都尼，在爱神的香怀里偎倚。

这时候，阿都尼心烦意厌，身懒体慵；
满眼都是不快活，一脸全是不高兴；
紧锁眉头，眯得一双秀目朦朦胧胧；
象云雾满空，遮断了蓝蔚，迷迷濛濛。
他阴郁地喊，“别再什么情不情！我不爱听。
太阳晒到了我脸上来了，我得活动活动。”

“哎呀，”维纳斯喊道，“你年纪轻，心可真狠，
居然用这样毫无道理的借口图脱身！
我要吹出像天风的气，叫它习习成阵，
把要西去的红日，搧得清冷冷、凉森森。
我要用头发把你遮住，叫它沉沉生幽阴。
如果头发也晒着了，我就用眼泪把它淋。

“天上照耀的太阳虽然正是最热之时，
但是我却也给你把它完全都遮住。
太阳的火对我并没有什么不舒服。
使我如燃欲焚的火本从你眼里射出。
我若不是长生不死，那我这副柔肠媚骨，
早就要在天上人间二火之间，遭到焚如。

“难道你的心真正比石还顽，比铁还硬？
石经雨滴也会磨损，铁经火炼也能熔。
莫非你不是妇人生，竟连爱情都不懂？
也不知道爱不见答，能给人多大苦痛？
哎哟，如果你妈也会像你这样冥顽无情，
那她到死都要孤零，你就没有机会下生。

“我是不是神，竟会叫你这样鄙视厌恨？
我对你求爱，里面会含什么危险成分？
不过区区一吻，难道会于你双唇有损？
说呀，好人，说好听的，否则不敢有劳您。
我只求你一吻，我回敬你，也决不过一吻。
你若愿我接个双吻，那另一吻就算利润。

“呸！不喘气的画中人物，冰冷冷的顽石，
装满涂饰的偶象，冥顽不灵的死形体，
精妙工致的雕刻，却原来中看不中吃。
样子虽然像人，却不像妇人所生所育。
你并不是个男子，虽然面貌也像个男子；
因为男子对于接吻，求之不得，哪会畏避？”

这话说完，烦躁把她娓娓的语声咽断，
越来越强烈的爱，激动得她有口难言。
她脸发烧、眼冒火，一齐喷出满腹幽怨。
风情月债本归她管，自家公案却难办。
她一会嗫嚅欲开口，一会又涕泗流满面，
另一会就哽噎得要说的话打断难接连。

她有时摇自己的头，又有时拉他的手，
有时往他脸上瞧，又有时就往地上瞅，
另有时就像箍住了一般，用力把他搂。
她愿把他老这样搂，他却要她放他走。
他在她怀里硬挣强夺想要脱身的时候，
她就把百合般的纤指一个一个紧紧扣。

“心肝，”她说，“我既筑起这一道象牙围篱，
把你这样在里面团团围定，紧紧圈起，
那我就是你的苑囿，你就是我的幼麑。
那里有山有溪，可供你随意食宿游息。
先到双唇咀嚼吮吸，如果那儿水枯山瘠，
再往下面游去，那儿有清泉涓涓草萋萋。

“这座囿里水草又丰美，游息又可意，
低谷有绿茵芊绵，平坡有密树阴翳，
丛灌蒙茸交叶暗，丘阜圆圆微坟起，
给你又遮断了狂风，又挡住了暴雨。
苑囿既然这样美，那你为什么不作幼麑？
纵有千条犬吠声狂，都决不能惊扰了你。”

他听了这话微微一笑，好像表示鄙夷，
于是他腮上，两个迷人的小酒窝现出；
那两个小圆坑儿，本是“爱”的精心绝艺，
为的自己遭不幸，能有个简单的坟墓。
但实在说来，他既然是“爱”，那他所在之处，
就不会有死亡：这种情况他早预见先知。

这两个迷人的小圆窝，迷人的小圆坑，
象张着小嘴，使迷恋的爱后坠入其中。
她早就神智失常了，现在更神智不清；
她头一下就打闷了，又何用两下才成？
可怜你，爱神，作法自毙，掉进自掘的陷阱，
一死地迷上了对你只表示鄙夷的面孔。

她现在该怎么办？还有什么话没说完？
话都说完了，她的苦恼却越来越难堪。
时光过去了，她爱的那人却归心似箭，
从紧缠着他的玉臂中，用力挣脱羁绊。
“求你，”她喊道，“把情面稍一顾，把心稍一软。”
他却不管，一跃而起，奔向骏马，想跨雕鞍。

但是你看，在邻近一丛矮树林子里，
有匹捷尼②骡马，口嫩神骏，精壮少比，
瞥见阿都尼的骏骑，正用蹄子刨地，
就连忙跑出来，气喘吁吁，振鬣长嘶。
那匹马首昂然的骏骑，本来在树上软系，
一见了这样，忙扯断缰绳，一直向她跑去。

他威武地又蹦又踢，又腾跃，又长嘶。
密织的马肚带，他一迸就两下分离。
他那硬铁蹄，划伤了生万物的大地，
使地心发出回声，只有天上雷声可比。
他嘴里的马嚼子，他一咬就都碎得像泥，
一下就完全制伏了用来制伏他的东西。

他两耳耸起；编结的长鬣本下垂拂披，
现在却在昂然拱起的长颈上直竖立；
他的鼻子吸进去的，本是清新的空气，
现在却像呼呼的闷炉，喷出一片水汽；
他的眼睛发出像火一般的光，闪烁斜视，
表示他的春心已经大动，情欲已经盛炽。

他有时细步急蹴，好像要把脚步数；
威仪中有温柔含，骄傲中有谦虚露；
忽然又半身直举，往前猛跳又猛扑，
仿佛说，你瞧瞧，我有多么大的气力！
我这是对站在我一旁的骒马显威武，
好教她眼花缭乱，心生爱慕，作我的俘虏。

他主人惊讶、忙乱、气愤，他一概不理论。
他主人用“喂喂，别动！”哄他，他也耳朵沉。
他哪里还管马刺刺得痛，马勒勒得紧？
他哪里还管马衣是否美，马具是否新？
他只见所爱，别的全视而不见，听而不闻。
因为在他那闪烁的眼光里，什么能够可心？

画家若想画一匹骨肉匀停的骏马，
使它比起真的活马来还要增身价，
那他的手笔，得比天工还精巧伟大，
使笔下的死马，远超过自然的活马。
现在这匹马，论起骨胳、色泽、气质、步伐，
胜过普通马，像画家的马，胜过天生的马。

蹄子圆，骹骨短，距毛蒙茸、丛杂而翩跹，
胸脯阔，眼睛圆，头颅小，鼻孔宽，呼吸便，
两耳小而尖，头颈昂而弯，四足直而健，
鬣毛稀，尾毛密，皮肤光润，臀部肥又圆；
看！马所应有的，他没有一样不具备完全，
只少个骑马的人，高踞他阔背上的华鞍。

他有时往远处狂蹿，又站住脚回头看，
于是一根羽毛一战颤，他又往前猛颠。
这一颠，都简直想和风争先后，赛快慢。
但是他还是飞，还是跑，没有人敢断言；
因为劲风正掠着他的尾和鬣，鸣啸呼喊，
把他的毛吹得像长翎的翅膀一般翩跹。

他朝着他的所爱斜视，冲着她长嘶。
她也长嘶回报，好像懂得他的心意；
又像一般女性，见他求爱，把脸绷起，
故意作嫌恶的神气，假装狠心不理；
对他的爱情厌弃，把他炽盛的春情鄙夷。
他从她后面拥抱她，她就用蹄子使劲踢。

于是他就像个失意的人，抑郁又愁闷，
把尾巴像倒垂的羽缨那样，下拂后臀，
给欲火烧得如化的那一部分作覆阴。
他又刨地，又愤怒地把苍蝇乱咬一阵。
他的所爱，看见了他春情这样如狂似焚，
稍露怜心；他也由暴怒渐渐地变为斯文。

他那容易动怒的小主人家想去捉他，
谁知那未经人骑的骒马，一见害了怕，
就连忙把他来撇下，惟恐自己被人抓。
她前奔，他也后随，把阿都尼单独剩下。
疯了一般蹿进树林子里面的是他们俩；
叫他们撂在后面的是想追他们的老鸦。

阿都尼气得肚子发胀，一下坐在地上；
一面大骂这匹不受拘管的畜生混账。
现在又来了一次于爱后有利的时光，
可以用甜言蜜语给她的单思帮帮忙。
因为恋爱的人总说，若不让“爱”借重舌簧，
就是叫它受比平常三倍多的委屈冤枉。

一条河流完全壅障，水就流得更猖狂；
一个闷炉丝毫不通气，火就着得更旺；
密不告人的愁烦，也正是同样的情况；
自由畅谈，可以使“爱”的烈焰稍稍低降。
但是如果一旦“爱”的辩护士都一声不响，
那案中人除了伤心而亡，还有什么希望？

他看见她来到，脸上另一阵又红又烧，
就像要灭的炭火，让微风一下又吹着。
他用帽子把他蹙着的额连忙遮盖牢，
眼睛瞅着无情的地，心里不知怎么好，
也不管她还是并未近前，还是已经挨靠。
因为他眼里的她，只值得从眼角那儿瞧。

留心细看她那样匆匆忙忙，悄悄冥冥，
去就那顽梗任性的孩童，真是一奇景。
你看她脸上忽白忽红，红掩白、白减红，
满心的冲突，都表现在脸色的斗争中。
这一瞬间，她脸上还是灰白的；稍待片顷，
它就要射出红火来，和天上的闪电相同。

她现在已经来到了他坐的那个地点，
就像卑躬屈节的男爱人，跪在他面前，
用纤手把他的帽子，轻轻地撩在一边，
另一只柔嫩的手，就摸他更柔嫩的脸。
他这脸经她一摸，就有她的纤指印出现，
像初雪松又软，一触就留下了斑深痕浅。

哦，他们眼光交锋，多生动的一场战争！
她老满眼含情，望着他的眼哀求恳请。
他就满眼含嗔，好像没看见她的眼睛。
她老用眼传情，他就老用眼鄙视这情。
这一出哑剧，一幕一幕地演得分分明明；
她泪如雨倾，作剧中陪衬，更使剧情生动。

她现在极尽温柔地握住了他的手，
就好像白雪筑起围墙，把百合拘囚；
又好像石膏圆箍，把象牙密裹紧扣。
这样白的朋友，碰到这样白的对头！
这场“美”与“美”的斗争，一面猛攻，一面严守，
就好像两只银色的鸽子，喙交喙，口接口。

她的思想传达器官——喉舌又开始动作：
“哦，滚滚尘寰中，你这最秀美的过客，
我恨不得我能变成你，你能变成我；
我心完好似你心，你心伤如我心多；
那样，你只报我以和颜，我便助你得解脱，
即使我得因此舍上命，我也一定无吝色。”

“还我的手，”他说，“你摸我的手什么道理？”
“还我的心，”她说，“那我就把你的手还你。
不然，你的心就要使我的心变成铁石，
变成铁石，它就要不理会动人的叹息，
这样，情人的呻吟，我也要听来绝不在意，
因为阿都尼的心已使我的心变得狠戾。”

“你要点脸，”他喊道，“快放开手，别再纠缠。
我这一天的乐事，算是全完。马也不见。
都是你，闹得我和马，两下里都不照面；
我说，你走开，单留下我在这儿想一番。
因为我一心一意、满头满脑、急忙地盘算，
想要叫我那匹骏马从骒马那儿回转。”

“你的马，”她答道，“该走的路就是这一条，
因为他这是对柔情的强烈攻势回报。
‘爱’和炭相同，烧起来，得设法叫它冷却。
让它任意着，那它就要把一颗心烧焦。
大海有崖岸，热烈的爱却没有边界范牢。
所以你的马跑掉，并非奇事，不值得惊扰。

“他系在树上时，看着多么像驽骀下驷，
仿佛一根皮带，就能治得他老老实实。
但他一见他的所爱——青春应有的美侣，
他并没把那不足道的束缚放在眼里。
他从他那拱起的颈上把缰绳一下甩去，
使他的头、口、颈、胸，都脱去羁绊，获得舒适。

“一个人看到他的所爱，裸体榻上横陈，
雪白的床单，都比不上她肤色的玉润，
那他岂肯只用饕餮的眼睛饱餐一顿，
而别的感官却能不同样地情不自禁？
冰雪凛冽，天气严寒，哪会有人过于小心，
见了热火，却远远躲着，不敢靠前去亲近？

“因此我的小哥哥，你不该骂骏马顽劣。
我反倒恳切地要求你跟他好好地学，
不要对送到门上来的快乐随便轻蔑。
他的行动就是你的模范，毋须我喋喋。
哦，你要学着恋爱；这个玩意简单又明确，
它还是一下学会了，就永远不会再忘却。”

“我不懂恋爱是什么，我也不想学，”
他说，“只有野猪我才爱，因为它能供我猎获。
我不要跟你强借，也不要你强借给我。
我对于‘爱’也爱，但只爱暴露它的龌龊。
因为我听人说，它只能跟‘死亡’讨点生活，
它也哭也笑，但只一呼吸间，便一生度过。

“衣服还未裁好作完，有谁能就去穿？
半个瓣还没长出来的花，谁肯赏玩？
生长发育的东西如受伤，虽只半点，
都要盛年萎谢，不会长得璀璨绚烂。
马驹年幼时，就叫他驮人负物，引重致远，
那他就要精力耗减，永远不能长得壮健。

“我的手叫你攥得痛起来，咱们得分开。
不要再瞎谈什么叫情，胡说什么叫爱。
你顶好撤围；我的心不能投降任屠宰；
它不会给向它猛攻的‘爱’，把城门开开。
请收起誓言、谀词和装出来的热泪满腮，
因为它们在坚定的心里，不能当作炮台。”

“怎么，你还会出声？”她说，“舌头还会活动？
其实顶好你没有舌头，或者我两耳聋。
你像美人鱼这样一说，叫我加倍伤情。
我本来就心里沉重，听你这话更沉重。
和谐中有龃龉，一派仙乐却奏得极难听。
耳边极美的乐声，却引起心里深创巨痛。

“假设说，我只有两只耳朵，却没有眼睛，
那你内在的美，我目虽不见，耳却能听。
若我两耳聋，那你外表的美，如能看清，
也照样能把我一切感受的器官打动。
如果我也无耳、也无目，只有触觉还余剩，
那我只凭触觉，也要对你产生热烈的爱情。

“再假设，我连触觉也全都失去了功能，
听也听不见，摸也摸不着，看也看不清，
单单剩下嗅觉一种，孤独地把职务行，
那我对你，仍旧一样要有强烈的爱情。
因你的脸发秀挺英，霞蔚云蒸，华升精腾，
有芬芳气息喷涌，叫人嗅着，爱情油然生。

“但你对这四种感官，既这样抚养滋息，
那你对于味觉，该是怎样的华筵盛席？
它们难道不想要客无散日，杯无空时？
难道不想要‘疑虑’，用双簧锁把门锁起，
好叫‘嫉妒’，那不受欢迎、爱闹脾气的东西，
别偷偷地溜了进来，搅扰了它们的宴集？”

他那两扇鲜红的门——嘴唇——又一次敞开，
叫他要说的话，甜蜜地畅通不受阻碍；
那就像清晓刚刚来，就出现了红云彩，
预示那海上船要沉没，陆上雨要成灾；
预示那鸟儿要受苦难，牧羊人要受损害；
牧牛人和牛群要遭疾飘和狂飇的破坏。

这种不吉的预兆，她留心注意早看到。
那就像暴雨之前，狂风一时停止怒号；
又像狼把牙一露，就知道他要开口嗥；
又像浆果一裂，就知道有黑水往外冒。
熗子出了膛，还不是有人遭殃，要被打倒？
所以，他还没开口，他的心思她就已猜着。

她一看他这样的神色，便往地上跌倒。
神色能使“爱”活人间，也能使“爱”赴阴曹，
眉头一皱创伤生，嫣然一笑就创伤好。
伤心人得到“爱”这样治疗，得说福气高。
那个傻孩子，一见她这样，认为她真不妙，
就用手拍她灰白的脸，直拍到脸生红潮。

他满腹惊讶，刚打好的主意也变了卦，
因为，他本来想对她来一番切责痛骂。
但是狡黠的“爱”，却极巧妙地制人先发。
我给“机警”祝福，因为它这样维护了她！
她躺在草地上，呼吸停止，好像一下羞杀。
他给她渡气、接唇，到了她苏醒过来才罢。

他轻轻弯她的手指，使劲按她的脉息，
他微微拍她的两腮，慢慢搓她的鼻子，
轻轻揉她的嘴唇：总之想尽千方百计，
要把他的狠心给她的创伤医疗救治。
他吻她。她呢，一见大喜，就乐得将计就计，
老老实实地躺在那儿，好叫他吻个不止。

原先的愁苦阴沉似夜，现已变为白日。
她那碧波欲流的眼，似碧牖轻轻开启。
那就像辉煌的朝日，穿着耀眼的新衣，
使晨光欢畅，使大地呈现出一片喜气：
就这样，如同丽日映辉得太空明朗美丽，
她那一双美目，映辉得她的脸明艳美丽。

她的眼光，射到他那白净无须的脸上，
好像她的眼光，都从他那儿来的一样。
若非他两眼因不悦而紧蹙，稍显微茫，
从来没有过这样四只眼睛，交辉争光。
她的眼，由于隔着晶莹的泪而放出光芒，
所以就好像夜晚月映清塘看来的景象。

“哦！”她说，“我身在何方？在人间还是天上？
我在海里遭淹没？还是在火里受烧伤？
现是何时光？清晨明朗？还是昏夜漫长？
我还是一心想要活？还是一意愿死亡？
我刚才还活着，但却活得比死了还凄惶；
后来又死了，但在死中却得了生的欢畅。

“你曾叫我死掉，我求你再叫我死一遭。
你的眼受了恶师——你的狠心——的指教，
只会把鄙夷的样子现，不屑的神色表，
因此我这颗可怜的心，你早已杀害了。
我这一双眼，本来是女后我忠实的向导，
如无你的嘴唇，也早就离开了我的躯壳。

“为你双唇救了我，我祝它们长相接！
我祝它们鲜红永不褪，新装永不卸！
我祝它们存在时，青春永保无残缺！
把疫疠从应降大灾的年月中祓除绝。
这样，星象家尽管已把人们的生死判决，
你喘的气，却回天旋地，把人命留，瘟疫灭。

“你的香唇，曾在我的柔唇上留下甜印，
要叫这甜印永存，我订任何契约都肯，
即使我得为此而卖身，我也完全甘心，
只要你肯出价购买，交易公平信用准。
成交以后，如果你还怕会有伪币生纠纷，
那你就把印打上我这火漆般红的嘴唇。

“你只付吻一千，我的心就永远归你管。
你还毋须忙，可以一个一个从容清算。
在我嘴上触一千下就成，有什么麻烦？
你能很快就把它们数好，把它们付完。
若到期交不上款，因受罚全数要加一翻，
那也不过两千吻，于你又哪能算得困难？”

“美丽的爱后，”他说道，“你若有意和我好，
而我对你却老害臊，请原谅我年纪少。
我还未经人道，所以别想和我通人道。
任何渔夫，都要把刚生出来的鱼苗饶；
熟了的梅子自己就会掉，青梅却长得牢；
若是不熟就摘了，它会酸得你皱上眉梢。

“你瞧，人间的安慰者太阳，已脚步疲劳，
在西方把他一天炎热的工作结束了；
夜的先行夜猫也尖声叫；天已经不早；
牛和羊都已经进了圈，众鸟也都归了巢；
乌黑的云彩天空罩，昼光淡淡，夕阴浩浩。
这都说，咱们道晚安而分手的时候来到。

“现在我对你说声晚安，你也把礼还。
你若听我这句话，我就不吝一吻甜。”
于是她说了声晚安。他也果不食言，
未说再见，就使分离的甜蜜酬答实现。
她用两臂把他的脖子温柔地紧围力缠。
于是成一体的他和她，成一个的脸和脸。

他都没法儿喘气，就把身子力挣脱离，
挪开了红似珊瑚的唇，醇如玉醴的气。
她那饥渴的嘴，早把美味吸了个十足；
但虽淋漓尽致，她仍抱怨，说不过点滴。
他们一个饿得要晕去，一个饱得要胀死，
这样，唇和唇一块紧粘，他和她一齐倒地。

强烈的情欲，把不再抵抗的牺牲捉住。
她饕餮一般地大嚼，还是老嫌不满足。
她的唇乘胜征服，他的唇就听命屈服；
战胜者不论要多少赎金，他都不吝惜。
她那贪似鹰鹯的欲望，把价提得冲天起，
不吸尽他唇上丰富的宝藏，就不能停止。

她一旦尝到了战利品的甜蜜滋味，
就开始不顾一切，凶猛地暴掠穷追。
她的脸腾腾冒热气，她的血滚滚沸。
不计一切的情欲，竟叫她放胆畅为！
把所有的一切都付诸流水，把理性击退；
忘了什么是害羞脸红，什么是名誉尽毁。

他叫她紧搂得又热闷、又困顿、又要晕，
就像野鸟，抚弄得太久了，变得很驯顺；
又像捷足的小鹿，被人穷追，精疲力尽；
又像闹脾气的孩子，哄好了，不再耍浑。
所以他现在伏伏贴贴，不抵抗，也不逃遁。
她虽不能尽所欲，却也尽所能大嚼一顿。

黄蜡不论冻得多么硬，经抟弄都要熔，
最后只轻轻一按，还能变成万状千形。
本来无望的事，大胆尝试，往往能成功。
特别在情场中，得寸进尺，更得凭勇猛。
爱并不是一来就晕，和灰脸的懦夫相同；
它的对象越扎手，它的进攻就该越起劲。

他原先皱眉时，哦，娃若轻易畏难而止，
那她就永也不会从他嘴上吸到玉醴。
爱人一定不要叫疾言厉色击退驱逐。
玫瑰还不是一样被采撷，尽管它有刺？
即便用二十把锁，把“美”牢牢地锁在密室，
“爱”也照旧能把锁个个打开而斩关直入。

为了把他赦宥，就势难再把他强拘留；
原来那可怜的傻孩子，直哀求放他走；
因此上她就决定，不再把他硬拽死揪，
和他告别，嘱咐他把她的心好好护守。
因为她指着小爱神的弓作证，赌下大咒，
说她那颗心，早已牢牢地嵌在他的心头。

“甜蜜的孩子，”她说，“我今宵凄凉怎生过？
因为，相思折磨我，怎能叫我把两眼合？
爱的主人，你说，明天你可能再见着我？
你说能吧，然后再把晤会的时间订妥。”
他对她说，他明天不能和她作幽期密约，
因为他打算着和几个朋友把野猪猎获。

“野猪！”她失声一喊；跟着她脸上的娇艳，
一下就让灰白掩，好像薄纱明、轻罗软，
笼得玫瑰羞晕浅。他的话叫她心惊战；
她连忙用两臂，把他的脖子款搂紧挽，
她一面这样缠，一面带着他用力往后扳。
于是只见，她仰卧地上，他就伏在她胸前。

她现在才算真正来到风月寨、花柳阵。
主将已经跨上了坐骑，要酣战把命拚。
谁知道她所想的，只是空幻，难以成真。
他虽已骑在她身上，却不肯挥鞭前进。
只弄得她的苦恼比坦塔罗斯③还更难忍。
原来她虽到了乐土，却得不到乐趣半分。

可怜的鸟，看见了画的葡萄，以假为真，
弄得眼睛胀得要破，肚子却饿得难忍。
她就像这样，爱不见答，因而苦恼万分，
如同那鸟，瞅着水果，却可望而不可近。
她在他身上，既得不到她要的那股热劲，
她就不断地和他接吻，把他来撩拨勾引。

但都不成。好爱后，这可不能随你的心。
一切可以尝试的办法，她都已经用尽。
她费了如许唇舌，本应得到更多温存。
她是爱神，又正动爱劲，却得不到爱人。
“得了得了吧，”他说，“快放手。别挤得人要晕。
你这样搂住了我，真毫无道理，绝无原因。”

“如果你没告诉我，说要去把野猪猎获，
甜蜜的孩子，”她说，“你本来可以早走脱。
哎呀，你可要当心。我想你这是不懂得，
用熗扎凶猛的野猪，都会有什么后果。
它的牙老剑拔弩张，为的便于往快里磨，
磨快了，好学杀生的屠夫，把屠宰的活作。

“它拱起的背上，有刚鬃硬毛，列戟摆熗，
密扎扎地直耸立，叫敌人看着心胆丧。
它的眼似萤火，怒起来便闪烁生光芒。
它的嘴专会破坏，到处一掘就是坟圹。
它受到了招惹，不论什么它都横冲直撞，
被它碰上，都要在它弯曲的长牙下身亡。

“它那肥壮的两膀，也有硬毛刚鬃武装，
厚实坚强，你的熗尖扎不透，也刺不伤。
它那粗而短的脖子，也不容易损毫芒。
它怒气一发，连狮子它都看得很平常。
长着尖刺的荆棘丛，和密接互抱的灌莽，
见它来也害怕，忙分开让路，叫它往前闯。

“你这美貌的面孔，它绝对不知道敬重。
虽然爱神的眼睛，对它痛爱、护惜、尊崇。
你柔嫩的手、甜美的唇、水汪汪的眼睛，
完美得世上的人无不惊奇，它却不懂。
你若叫它得了手，哎呀，它可要斗狠逞凶！
它要把你的美貌，像地上的草一样乱拱。

“哦，让它在它那令人恶心的窝里躲着，
‘美’和这样的恶魔，绝没有丝毫的瓜葛。
千万可别成心去和它麻烦，招灾惹祸。
一个人听朋友的忠告，只有幸福快活。
你一提起野猪的话来，我还并不是做作，
我真替你担惊受怕，吓得全身都直哆嗦。

“难道你没看见我的脸，一下变得灰白？
难道你没看见我的眼，满含恐惧疑猜？
难道我没晕过去，一下就栽倒在尘埃？
你不是伏在我怀里？难道你没觉出来，
我的心预知不妙，又跳又蹦，老不能安泰？
只像地震一样，把在我身上的你都直筛？

“因为，‘爱’所在的心里，有好捣乱的‘妒忌’，
自称为‘爱’的卫士，给它警戒，把它护持；
要永远惹起虚惊，要永远煽动起叛逆；
在太平无事的时候，老大呼杀敌、杀敌；
使温存柔和的‘爱’，也把热劲头冷却减低，
像凉水和湿气，把腾腾的烈火压制灭熄。

“性情乖戾的奸细，贩卖战争的恶匪徒，
专把‘爱’的嫩蕾幼芽残害啮食的花蠹，
造谣生事、挑奸起火、搬是弄非的‘嫉妒’，
有时把真话传播，又有时把谎言散布。
他在我的心里鼓动，在我的耳边上咕噜，
说我若是爱你，我就得为你的性命忧惧。

“不但如此，他还在我眼前呈出幅画图。
画里出现的是一个愤怒凶暴的野猪，
在它那锋利的长牙下面，有一个形体，
和你的极相似，正仰面躺着，血肉模糊。
这血还把地上长的山花野卉濡染沾污，
使它们悲伤哀毁，把身子低弯，把头低俯。

“我现在只想到这种光景，就全身发抖，
如果我想的成了真事，那我该怎么受？
这种想法，叫我这脆弱的心不禁血流。
‘忧愁’教给我，把未来的事，预先就看透。
因此，你若明天一定要去和野猪作对头，
我可预言：你要一下送命，我要一生发愁。

“你若非去行猎不可，那你可得听我说：
只可向胆怯会跑的小兔，放出狗一窝；
或者把狐狸捉，它们只凭狡猾谋逃脱；
或者把小鹿逐，它们见了人只会闪躲。
你只可在丘原，把这类胆小的动物猎获，
还得骑着健壮的马，带着猎犬去把围合。

“你若把目力弱的野兔赶起，你可注意，
看一下，那可怜的小东西，想逃避追敌，
怎样跑得比风还快，怎样想制胜出奇，
拐千弯，转万角，闪躲腾挪，旁突又侧驰。
它在篱落的空隙间，进进出出，扑朔迷离，
使它的敌人，像在迷宫里一样，错乱惊异。

“它有时跑进羊群里，和它们混成一队，
把嗅觉灵敏的猎狗，迷惑得不知其味；
又有时，就躜到小山兔地下的深穴内，
使高声叫唤的追敌，暂时停止了狂吠；
又有时就和鹿群合，叫人难分它属哪类。
这真正是智谋出于急难，巧计生于临危。

“因为这样，它的气味就和别的兽混杂，
用鼻子嗅的猎狗，就无法断定哪是它，
只好暂停吠声嘈杂，一直到忙搜紧查，
才又把失去了的气味找得分明不差。
于是它们又狂吠起来，只闹得回声大发，
就好像另有一场追猎，正在天空里杂沓。

维纳斯与阿都尼(2)
Venus and Adonis(2)

引用
这时，可怜的小兔，在远处的山上息足，用后腿支身，叫前身拱起，把两耳耸立，听一听它的敌人是否仍旧穷追紧逼。霎时之间，它听见了它们的狂吠声起，于是，它心里的难过，绝不能用笔墨表出。只有那病已不治、听见丧钟的人可以比。这时只见那可怜的东西

英：
By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
To harken if his foes pursue him still:
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;
And now his grief may be compared well
To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell.

Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
Turn, and return, indenting with the way;
Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch,
Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
For misery is trodden on by many,
And being low never relieved by any.

Lie quietly, and hear a little more;
Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise:
To make thee hate the hunting of the boar,
Unlike myself thou hear'st me moralize,
Applying this to that, and so to so;
For love can comment upon every woe.

Where did I leave?' 'No matter where,' quoth he,
Leave me, and then the story aptly ends:
The night is spent.' 'Why, what of that?' quoth she.
I am,' quoth he, 'expected of my friends;
And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall.'
In night,' quoth she, 'desire sees best of all

But if thou fall, O, then imagine this,
The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips,
And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.
Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips
Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,
Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn.

Now of this dark night I perceive the reason:
Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine,
Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason,
For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine;
Wherein she framed thee in high heaven's despite,
To shame the sun by day and her by night.

And therefore hath she bribed the Destinies
To cross the curious workmanship of nature,
To mingle beauty with infirmities,
And pure perfection with impure defeature,
Making it subject to the tyranny
Of mad mischances and much misery;

As burning fevers, agues pale and faint,
Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood,
The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint
Disorder breeds by heating of the blood:
Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair,
Swear nature's death for framing thee so fair.

And not the least of all these maladies
But in one minute's fight brings beauty under:
Both favour, savour, hue and qualities,
Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder,
Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd and done,
As mountain-snow melts with the midday sun.

Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity,
Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns,
That on the earth would breed a scarcity
And barren dearth of daughters and of sons,
Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night
Dries up his oil to lend the world his light.

What is thy body but a swallowing grave,
Seeming to bury that posterity
Which by the rights of time thou needs must have,
If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity?
If so, the world will hold thee in disdain,
Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.

So in thyself thyself art made away;
A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife,
Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves do slay,
Or butcher-sire that reaves his son of life.
Foul-cankering rust the hidden treasure frets,
But gold that's put to use more gold begets.'

Nay, then,' quoth Adon, 'you will fall again
Into your idle over-handled theme:
The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain,
And all in vain you strive against the stream;
For, by this black-faced night, desire's foul nurse,
Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse.

If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues,
And every tongue more moving than your own,
Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs,
Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown
For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear,
And will not let a false sound enter there;

Lest the deceiving harmony should run
Into the quiet closure of my breast;
And then my little heart were quite undone,
In his bedchamber to be barr'd of rest.
No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan,
But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone.

What have you urged that I cannot reprove?
The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger:
I hate not love, but your device in love,
That lends embracements unto every stranger.
You do it for increase: O strange excuse,
When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse!

Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled,
Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name;
Under whose simple semblance he hath fed
Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame;
Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves,
As caterpillars do the tender leaves.

Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,
But Lust's effect is tempest after sun;
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,
Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done;
Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies;
Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.

More I could tell, but more I dare not say;
The text is old, the orator too green.
Therefore, in sadness, now I will away;
My face is full of shame, my heart of teen:
Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended,
Do burn themselves for having so offended.'

With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace,
Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast,
And homeward through the dark laund runs apace;
Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd.
Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky,
So glides he in the night from Venus' eye.

Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Gazing upon a late-embarked friend,
Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,
Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend:
So did the merciless and pitchy night
Fold in the object that did feed her sight.

Whereat amazed, as one that unaware
Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood,
Or stonish'd as night-wanderers often are,
Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood,
Even so confounded in the dark she lay,
Having lost the fair discovery of her way.

And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans,
That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled,
Make verbal repetition of her moans;
Passion on passion deeply is redoubled:
Ay me!' she cries, and twenty times 'Woe, woe!'
And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.

She marking them begins a wailing note
And sings extemporally a woeful ditty;
How love makes young men thrall and old men dote;
How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty:
Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe,
And still the choir of echoes answer so.

Her song was tedious and outwore the night,
For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short:
If pleased themselves, others, they think, delight
In such-like circumstance, with suchlike sport:
Their copious stories oftentimes begun
End without audience and are never done.

For who hath she to spend the night withal
But idle sounds resembling parasites,
Like shrill-tongued tapsters answering every call,
Soothing the humour of fantastic wits?
She says ''Tis so:' they answer all ''Tis so;'
And would say after her, if she said 'No.'

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty;
Who doth the world so gloriously behold
That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.

Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow:
O thou clear god, and patron of all light,
From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow
The beauteous influence that makes him bright,
There lives a son that suck'd an earthly mother,
May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.'

This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove,
Musing the morning is so much o'erworn,
And yet she hears no tidings of her love:
She hearkens for his hounds and for his horn:
Anon she hears them chant it lustily,
And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.

And as she runs, the bushes in the way
Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,
Some twine about her thigh to make her stay:
She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace,
Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache,
Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake.

By this, she hears the hounds are at a bay;
Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder
Wreathed up in fatal folds just in his way,
The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder;
Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds
Appals her senses and her spirit confounds.

For now she knows it is no gentle chase,
But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud,
Because the cry remaineth in one place,
Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:
Finding their enemy to be so curst,
They all strain courtesy who shall cope him first.

This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear,
Through which it enters to surprise her heart;
Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,
With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part:
Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield,
They basely fly and dare not stay the field.

Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy;
Till, cheering up her senses all dismay'd,
She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy,
And childish error, that they are afraid;
Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more: --
And with that word she spied the hunted boar,

Whose frothy mouth, bepainted all with red,
Like milk and blood being mingled both together,
A second fear through all her sinews spread,
Which madly hurries her she knows not whither:
This way runs, and now she will no further,
But back retires to rate the boar for murther.

A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways;
She treads the path that she untreads again;
Her more than haste is mated with delays,
Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,
Full of respects, yet nought at all respecting;
In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.

Here kennell'd in a brake she finds a hound,
And asks the weary caitiff for his master,
And there another licking of his wound,
Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster;
And here she meets another sadly scowling,
To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling.

When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise,
Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim,
Against the welkin volleys out his voice;
Another and another answer him,
Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,
Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go.

Look, how the world's poor people are amazed
At apparitions, signs and prodigies,
Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed,
Infusing them with dreadful prophecies;
So she at these sad signs draws up her breath
And sighing it again, exclaims on Death.

Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean,
Hateful divorce of love,' -- thus chides she Death, --
Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou mean
To stifle beauty and to steal his breath,
Who when he lived, his breath and beauty set
Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet?

If he be dead, -- O no, it cannot be,
Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it: --
O yes, it may; thou hast no eyes to see,
But hatefully at random dost thou hit.
Thy mark is feeble age, but thy false dart
Mistakes that aim and cleaves an infant's heart.

Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke,
And, hearing him, thy power had lost his power.
The Destinies will curse thee for this stroke;
They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower:
Love's golden arrow at him should have fled,
And not Death's ebon dart, to strike dead.

Dost thou drink tears, that thou provokest such weeping?
What may a heavy groan advantage thee?
Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping
Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?
Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour,
Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour.'

Here overcome, as one full of despair,
She vail'd her eyelids, who, like sluices, stopt
The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair
In the sweet channel of her bosom dropt;
But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain,
And with his strong course opens them again.

O, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow!
Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye;
Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorrow,
Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry;
But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,
Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.

Variable passions throng her constant woe,
As striving who should best become her grief;
All entertain'd, each passion labours so,
That every present sorrow seemeth chief,
But none is best: then join they all together,
Like many clouds consulting for foul weather.

By this, far off she hears some huntsman hollo;
A nurse's song ne'er pleased her babe so well:
The dire imagination she did follow
This sound of hope doth labour to expel;
For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,
And flatters her it is Adonis' voice.

Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,
Being prison'd in her eye like pearls in glass;
Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,
Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass,
To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground,
Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd.

O hard-believing love, how strange it seems
Not to believe, and yet too credulous!
Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes;
Despair and hope makes thee ridiculous:
The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.

Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought;
Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame;
It was not she that call'd him, all-to naught:
Now she adds honours to his hateful name;
She clepes him king of graves and grave for kings,
Imperious supreme of all mortal things.

No, no,' quoth she, 'sweet Death, I did but jest;
Yet pardon me I felt a kind of fear
When as I met the boar, that bloody beast,
Which knows no pity, but is still severe;
Then, gentle shadow, -- truth I must confess, --
I rail'd on thee, fearing my love's decease.

'Tis not my fault: the boar provoked my tongue;
Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander;
Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong;
I did but act, he's author of thy slander:
Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet
Could rule them both without ten women's wit.'

Thus hoping that Adonis is alive,
Her rash suspect she doth extenuate;
And that his beauty may the better thrive,
With Death she humbly doth insinuate;
Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs, and stories
His victories, his triumphs and his glories.

O Jove,' quoth she, 'how much a fool was I
To be of such a weak and silly mind
To wail his death who lives and must not die
Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind!
For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again.

Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear
As one with treasure laden, hemm'd thieves;
Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear,
Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.'
Even at this word she hears a merry horn,
Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn.

As falcon to the lure, away she flies;
The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light;
And in her haste unfortunately spies
The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight;
Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view,
Like stars ashamed of day, themselves withdrew;

Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit,
Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain,
And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit,
Long after fearing to creep forth again;
So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled
Into the deep dark cabins of her head:

Where they resign their office and their light
To the disposing of her troubled brain;
Who bids them still consort with ugly night,
And never wound the heart with looks again;
Who like a king perplexed in his throne,
By their suggestion gives a deadly groan,

Whereat each tributary subject quakes;
As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground,
Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes,
Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound.
This mutiny each part doth so surprise
That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes;

And, being open'd, threw unwilling light
Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd
In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white
With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd:
No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed,
But stole his blood and seem'd with him to bleed.

This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth;
Over one shoulder doth she hang her head;
Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth;
She thinks he could not die, he is not dead:
Her voice is stopt, her joints forget to bow;
Her eyes are mad that they have wept til now.

Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly,
That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three;
And then she reprehends her mangling eye,
That makes more gashes where no breach should be:
His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled;
For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.

My tongue cannot express my grief for one,
And yet,' quoth she, 'behold two Adons dead!
My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,
Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead:
Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire!
So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost!
What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?
Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast
Of things long since, or any thing ensuing?
The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim;
But true-sweet beauty lived and died with him.

Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear!
Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you:
Having no fair to lose, you need not fear;
The sun doth scorn you and the wind doth hiss you:
But when Adonis lived, sun and sharp air
Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair:

And therefore would he put his bonnet on,
Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep;
The wind would blow it off and, being gone,
Play with his locks: then would Adonis weep;
And straight, in pity of his tender years,
They both would strive who first should dry his tears.

To see his face the lion walk'd along
Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him;
To recreate himself when he hath sung,
The tiger would be tame and gently hear him;
If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey
And never fright the silly lamb that day.

When he beheld his shadow in the brook,
The fishes spread on it their golden gills;
When he was by, the birds such pleasure took,
That some would sing, some other in their bills
Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries;
He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar,
Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore;
Witness the entertainment that he gave:
If he did see his face, why then I know
He thought to kiss him, and hath kill'd him so.

'Tis true, 'tis true; thus was Adonis slain:
He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear,
Who did not whet his teeth at him again,
But by a kiss thought to persuade him there;
And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine
Sheathed unaware the tusk in his soft groin.

Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess,
With kissing him I should have kill'd him first;
But he is dead, and never did he bless
My youth with his; the more am I accurst.'
With this, she falleth in the place she stood,
And stains her face with his congealed blood.

She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She takes him by the hand, and that is cold;
She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,
As if they heard the woeful words she told;
She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,
Where, lo, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies;

Two glasses, where herself herself beheld
A thousand times, and now no more reflect;
Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd,
And every beauty robb'd of his effect:
Wonder of time,' quoth she, 'this is my spite,
That, thou being dead, the day should yet be light.

Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy:
Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend:
It shall be waited on with jealousy,
Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end,
Ne'er settled equally, but high or low,
That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.

It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud,
Bud and be blasted in a breathing-while;
The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd
With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile:
The strongest body shall it make most weak,
Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to speak.

It shall be sparing and too full of riot,
Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures;
The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet,
Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures;
It shall be raging-mad and silly-mild,
Make the young old, the old become a child.

It shall suspect where is no cause of fear;
It shall not fear where it should most mistrust;
It shall be merciful and too severe,
And most deceiving when it seems most just;
Perverse it shall be where it shows most toward,
Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.

It shall be cause of war and dire events,
And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire;
Subject and servile to all discontents,
As dry combustious matter is to fire:
Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy,
They that love best their loves shall not enjoy.'

By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd
Was melted like a vapour from her sight,
And in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd,
A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white,
Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood
Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.

She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath,
And says, within her bosom it shall dwell,
Since he himself is reft from her by death:
She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.

Poor flower,' quoth she, 'this was thy fathers guise --
Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire --
For every little grief to wet his eyes:
To grow unto himself was his desire,
And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good
To wither in my breast as in his blood.

Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast;
Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right:
Lo, in this hollow cradle take thy rest,
My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night:
There shall not be one minute in an hour
Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.'

Thus weary of the world, away she hies,
And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid
Their mistress mounted through the empty skies
In her light chariot quickly is convey'd;
Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen
Means to immure herself and not be seen.

中：

“这时，可怜的小兔，在远处的山上息足，
用后腿支身，叫前身拱起，把两耳耸立，
听一听它的敌人是否仍旧穷追紧逼。
霎时之间，它听见了它们的狂吠声起，
于是，它心里的难过，绝不能用笔墨表出。
只有那病已不治、听见丧钟的人可以比。

“这时只见那可怜的东西，满身露沾濡，
东逃西跑，侧奔横逸，曲里歪斜难踪迹。
丛丛恶荆棘，都往它那疲乏的腿上刺，
处处黑影把它留，声声低响使它停止。
因人一旦倒运，他就成了众人脚下的泥，
而且一旦成泥，就没有人肯把他再拾起。

“你好好地躺定，我还要说几句给你听。
别挣扎。我不许你起来，你挣扎也没用。
我要你把猎野猪看作是可恨的事情。
因此，我大谈道理，不像我本来的光景，
以此喻彼，用彼比此，彼此相比，层出不穷，
因为‘爱’，能对每样灾难悲愁，都解说阐明。

“我刚才说到了哪里？”他说：“不要管哪里。
只要放我走，就不管哪里，都首尾整齐。
夜已经过去了。”她说：“哟，那有什么关系？”
“我有几个朋友，”他说，“约好了正等我呢。
现在这样黑，我走起来，一定要摔跤失足。”
“夜是顶好的时候，”她说，“叫爱情使用目力。

不过你若真摔倒，哦，那你这样想才好：
那是大地，爱你美貌，故意让你跌一跤，
叫你嘴啃地，她好乘机偷着吻你一遭。
即便君子，见了珍宝，也要眼馋把它盗。
因此，腼腆的狄安娜，用惨云愁雾把脸罩，
否则也难保不偷吻你，把一生的誓言抛。

“我现在才懂得，今夜为什么这样黑。
这是狄安娜害羞，掩起银光而自晦。
要等独出心裁的‘造化’被判逆天罪；
因为她从天上盗走模子，神圣尊贵，
成心和上天反对，按照模子造出你的美，
白天好叫太阳羞臊，夜里好叫月亮惭愧。

“因为这样，狄安娜就把命运之神收买，
叫她们把‘造化’的匠心绝艺摧毁破坏，
在美中间掺杂上畸形病态，疵瑕丑怪，
使纯洁的完好，和腌的缺陷并肩排，
使‘美’落入狂暴的恶运之手，被残酷虐待，
使她逢不幸，遭苦难，备受烦恼，历尽灾害。

“毒害生命的大疫，惑乱凶暴的狂易，
发烧的热病，使人委靡疲敝的疟疾，
耗损元气的痨瘵，如果沾染上身体，
便叫你血液沸腾，四肢痛楚骨支离；
还有生疮长疖，过饱伤食，罹忧患，遭悲凄，
都想置‘造化’于死地，只因她把美赋与了你。

“这些疾病之内，即便是最轻微的一类，
也都熊够经一分钟的侵袭，把‘美’摧毁，
原先的俏形秀骨、雅韵清神、丽色香味，
并非偏好的人，都要认为奇异珍贵，
却一瞬就形销骨立，香消色褪，韵减神悴，
像山上的雪，在中午的太阳里一去不回。

“那些终身不嫁的女娘，尽管贞洁贤良，
誓绝尘缘奉神祠，永伴经卷守庵堂；
但是她们却一心想要世上发生人荒，
不肯育子女，叫青年少得像凶岁食粮。
咱们绝不学这种榜样。夜里辉煌的灯光，
本是把自己的油耗干了，才把人间照亮。

“若你未曾把你的后嗣毁灭在幽暗里，
那么按时光的正当要求，你该有后嗣。
但像你现在这样，你的身体不是别的，
只是张着大嘴的坟墓，要把后嗣吞噬。
如果真如此，那全世界就都要把你鄙夷，
因为你的骄傲，把这样美好的前途窒息。

“因此你若是自生自灭，同样无人赞同。
那是一种罪恶，坏过了兄弟阋墙之争，
坏过了不顾一切的人们，自戕把命送，
坏过了杀害亲子女的老子，绝灭人性。
腐蚀的臭锈，能把深藏的宝物消耗干净，
黄金如善于利用，却能把更多的黄金生。”

“得了吧！”阿都尼喊，“别这样越说越没完。
你这是又要把无聊的老话搬了又搬。
我那一吻，也算枉然，因为你说了不算。
你净扭着人要把事办，那也只是枉然。
因为，情欲的秽乳母——黑脸的夜晚——看得见，
你的高论放得越多，你也就越让我讨厌。

“假使爱情能使你长出来舌头两万条，
每一条都比你还伶牙俐齿，能说会道，
像淫浪的美人鱼，唱得使人神魂颠倒，
那我听来，也只能像耳旁风一样无效。
因为你要知道，我的耳朵给我的心保镳，
决不让任何淫词艳语，打进心房的内窍。

“怕的是，使人迷惑错乱的靡靡之音，
会深深侵入我这风平浪静的内心，
叫我这赤子的天真动情欲，生痴嗔，
把它的内寝搅得不安静，扰攘纷纭。
哦，女后，我的心不想愁烦苦闷，长呻短吟，
它现在既然独寝，它只想能够睡得安稳。

“所有你讲的道理，哪一点我不能驳斥？
往危险那儿去的道路，永远光滑平直。
我对于‘爱’并不是一律厌弃。我恨的是：
你那种不论生熟，人尽可夫的歪道理。
你说这是为生息繁育，这真是谬论怪议。

这是给淫行拉纤撮合，却用理由来文饰。
“这不是‘爱’。因为自从世上的淫奔不才，
硬把‘爱’的名义篡夺，‘爱’已往天上逃开。
‘淫’就假‘爱’的纯朴形态，把‘青春之美’害，
使它的纯洁贞正，蒙了恶名，遭到指摘。
这个暴戾的淫棍，把‘美’蹂躏，又把‘美’毁坏，
就像毛虫把幼芽嫩叶那样残酷地对待。

“‘爱’使人安乐舒畅，就好像雨后的太阳，
‘淫’的后果，却像艳阳天变得雨骤风狂；
‘爱’就像春日，永远使人温暖、新鲜、清爽，
‘淫’像冬天，夏天没完，就来得急急忙忙。
‘爱’永不使人餍，‘淫’却像饕餮，饱胀而死亡。
‘爱’永远像真理昭彰，‘淫’却永远骗人说谎。

“我可以说的还很多，不过我不敢多说。
讲的题目很古老，讲的人却年轻嘴拙。
因此我这回却一点不错要和你别过。
我满脸含羞又带愧，满腹忧繁又愁多，
我听到了你这么些艳语淫词，猥亵邪恶，
觉得实在龌龊污浊，两耳一直烧得似火。”

他一面说，一面从她的香怀里挣脱，
离开她那玉臂的拥抱，酥胸的揉搓，
穿过昏暗的林隙，急忙往家里藏躲；
把爱后满怀痛苦地撂在那儿仰卧。
你曾看见过明星一颗，在中天倏忽流过？
爱后眼里的他，就那样在夜里一闪而没。

他人虽去，他的余影仍把她的眼光摄。
像岸上的人，和刚上了船的朋友告别，
老远看看；一直看到巨浪和天空相接，
排空直立，高如山岳，把他的视力隔绝。
无情的昏沉黑夜，就这样把他的身形截，
把她凝注的那个人包围吞噬，整个没灭。

她迷惘怔忪，好像一个人因为不小心，
一下失手，把珍贵的珠宝掉入了巨浸；
又像夜里的行人，走到阴森森的深林，
无端灯笼叫风吹灭，眼前只一片昏沉。
她就那样仰卧在暗地里，目又呆，口又噤。
只因为失去了能给她指路的少年英俊。

于是她用手捶胸，从心里发出呻吟声。
四周围的幽岫深洞，好像也起了骚动，
把她的长吁短叹萦回周旋，往来传送。
跟着哀怨四处生，深沉低重，山震谷鸣。
她发了几声唉唉，又说了二十声痛痛痛，
于是二十倍的二十声痛痛痛，和她呼应。

她听到回声起，就开始用号哭的调子，
临时随口唱出一段凄楚动人的歌词：
唱“爱”怎样使青年变奴隶，老人变呆痴，
“爱”怎样是愚中有智、智中有愚的东西。
她的歌儿永远以哀伤结束，以悲痛终止。
她的合唱队也永远同声应答，表示一致。

长夜已过，歌声还不断，真正叫人生厌。
情人的时光实际很长，虽然自觉很短。
他们那一套把戏，自己觉得趣味盎然，
就认为别人当此情此景，也同样喜欢。
他们的情谈，往往开了头，絮叨叨、腻烦烦，
没人能听得全，也没人知道什么时候完。

除了无聊的声音，像唯唯否否不离口，
还有什么和她把漫漫的长夜一同守？
这种声音一叫就应，就像酒保的尖喉，
对那种性情乖僻的顾客，强把趣儿凑。
她若说，非唯唯，是否否，它们也就说否否；
她若说，是唯唯，非否否，它们决不说否否。

看！云雀轻盈，蜷伏了一夜感到不受用，
从草地上带露的栖息处，盘上了天空，
把清晨唤醒。只见从清晨银色的前胸，
太阳初升，威仪俨俨，步履安详，气度雍容。
目光四射，辉煌地看着下界的气象万种，
把树巅山顶，都映得黄金一般灿烂光明。

维纳斯对太阳早安说连声，把他接迎：
“你这辉煌的天神，一切光明的主人翁，
每一盏明灯、每一颗明星所以亮晶晶，
都因你借与光明，否则只有黑暗昏暝。
如今有个孩童，虽是凡间女子所育所生，
能借给你光明，和你借给万物光明相同。”

她这样说完，忙往一丛桃金孃林里赶，
一心只想，清晨的时光已经过了大半，
怎么没听见她的所爱，有任何消息传？
她倾耳细听，听他的号角和他的猎犬。
于是果然听见它们一齐大声猛叫狂喊。
她顺着它们的这吠声，急忙跑去不怠慢。

在她往前跑去的时候，路上的丛灌，
有的摸她的脖颈，有的就吻她的脸，
又有的抓住她的腿，叫她难把路趱。
她用力挣脱了它们这种紧裹慢缠，
就好像树林中的麀鹿，乳头胀得痛又痠，
连忙要赶到丛莽中藏着的麑鹿的身边。

她这时听出来，有大敌当前，背城死战，
就吃惊非浅；一个人，若忽遇毒蛇出现，
吓人地盘着，把他的去路恰恰挡得严，
他就要又哆嗦、又打战，挪一步都不敢；
她觉到，群犬的吠声表示它们畏缩不前。
也就同样眼前生花，耳里雷鸣，身上乱颤。

她现在知道，所猎的决非动物弱小，
而一定是野猪粗暴，熊莽撞，狮骄傲。
因为吠声永远停在一处，又嘈又高，
猎狗就在那儿带着恐惧狂嗥大叫。
原来它们看到了敌人那样地凶恶残暴，
便互相推让，谁都不肯去抢先登的功劳。

这样惨叫，让她的耳朵听来十分凄惶。
从耳朵传到心里，叫她心里也起惊慌。
她只吓得面失色，满腹疑虑事不吉祥，
腿软手颤，口呆目怔，足难移来身似僵，
四肢百骸齐解体，像兵士一遇主将败亡，
便四下里乱逃乱蹿，不敢再留在战场上。

她这样身发抖、眼发直，兴奋得不自主。
接着又把惊慌失措的感官鼓励安抚；
对它们说，它们这样怕，显与事实不符，
它们这是和小孩一样，无端自己恐怖；
告诫它们不要这样全身哆嗦，骨麻筋酥。
她说到这里，一眼瞥见了那被猎的野猪。

只见它满口白沫吐，又满嘴红血污，
似鲜奶和鲜血搀在一起，狼藉模糊。
于是恐怖第二次在她全身上传布，
使她疯了一般，不知应该往哪里去。
她往前瞎跑一气，于是忽然一下又站住，
跟着又跑回原处，大骂杀人该死的野畜。

一千种恐怖，支使着她奔向一千条路。
她乱跑，好像只为去而复来，来而复去。
她的急劲儿，只有她的慢劲儿能够比。
就像醉汉，仿佛不论何事，都用心考虑，
然而，他的脑子里却一样也没认真考虑，
忙忙碌碌，乱抓一起，却半点也没有头绪。

她先看到，在一丛灌莽里，趴着狗一条，
她就对那疲乏的畜生把它的主人要。
又看到另一条，想把血淋淋的伤舔好，
因为治含毒素的伤，这种疗法最有效。
又找到第三条，只见它面目凄怆神伤悼，
她问它话，它只呜呜狂吠长嗥，作为回报。

它刚停止了这样逆心刺耳的长嗥，
另一个厚唇下垂的畜生，抑郁懊恼，
也朝着苍天一阵一阵地呜呜哀号。
于是一个接一个，都一齐开始狂叫；
原先直耸的尾巴，都紧贴身后往地上扫；
咬伤了的耳朵直甩动，血涌不止似海潮。

你曾见过，世上有些可怜的愚夫俗子，
看到妖魔鬼怪、异兆奇象，便惊慌失据，
带着恐惧之心，把它们长久观望注视，
一心只怕将要发生可怖的祸殃灾异。
同样，眼前的景象，叫她倒抽了一口凉气，
接着又把气叹出，向死神大大发泄悲凄。

“你这狰狞的魔君，枯肉巉巉，白骨嶙嶙，
专和爱作对头，狠毒的化身，”她骂死神。
“地上的毒蛇，世间的骷髅，连笑都吓人。
你为何把美扼杀，把他的生命暗中侵？
他活着的时候，本来气息清香，容貌聪俊，
能叫紫罗兰都增芬芳，玫瑰花都增艳润。

“他若是死了——哦，不可能，他不可能死。
难道你看到他那样美，还不知自制？
但也可能。因为你本来是有目无珠，
你只狠毒恶辣地胡砍乱扎，视而无睹。
你的对象本是老迈衰弱，但你无的放矢，
因此你的毒箭杀害了的却是一个孺子。

“你若曾经警告过他，他就会和你答话，
那样你听到了他，你的威力就要消煞。
命运之神因你这一着，定要把你咒骂。
她们本来叫你除莠草，你却拔了鲜花。
向他发的应该是爱神的金箭，色丽彩华，
不应该是死神的黑箭，阴森地把他射杀。

“难道你饮泪解馋，才涌起如许的泪泉？
悲愁的呻吟，于你会有什么好处可言？
那一双眼，本是教给许多眼如何顾盼，
你却为什么把它们断送，叫它们长眠？
现在造化不再理会你那操生死的大权，
因她最完美的天工，你已经狠毒地摧残。”

她说到这里，像绝望的人，悲不自胜，
两眼怔忪，于是眼皮便像闸门合拢；
晶莹的眼泪，原先往香腮上汩汩直涌，
汇成两条水流，滴到酥胸，一时暂停。
但是银色的雨，仍旧不断往闸门那儿冲，
把闸门二次冲开，因泪的巨流汹涌势猛。

看，她的泪和眼，你取我与，恐后争先：
泪从眼里晶莹落，眼又在泪里玲珑现，
同晶莹，两映掩，互相看着彼此的愁颜。
同情的叹息就把眼泪、泪眼，轻拂慢搌。
但像风雨交加之日，风吹不停，雨下不完，
因此，双颊刚被叹息吹干，随即泪痕阑干。

在她无尽的伤悼中，不同的感情齐涌，
像争强斗胜，看谁最能表现她的悲痛。
它们都受到收容，于是各自奋勇逞能，
每一种都好像是其它那些的主人公，
却一种也不能称雄；于是它们联合结盟，
像乌云聚拢，商议怎么能召来暴雨狂风。

这时，她忽然听见远处猎人高声喊起，
从未有乳母的歌声能叫婴儿更欢喜。
她原先想象之中的一切恐惧和疑虑，
都叫这一声喊排斥；希望并非全绝迹。
这种死而复生的欢心，叫她又生出喜意，
奉承她说，喊出这一声的，一定是阿都尼。

于是她那像潮水的眼泪，回澜闭闸，
在眼里暂藏，像在椟中的珍珠无价。
只偶有晶莹明澈的泪珠，慢慢流下，
但一到脸上就融化，好像不肯让它
往肮脏的地面上流，往污秽的尘土中洒，
因为珠圆玉润的泪，怎能洗净地的邋遢？
唉，不轻置信的爱，你好像难推诚相待。

同时却又好像无言不採：看来真奇怪，
走极端、尽极限的是你的快乐和悲哀。
绝望和希望，同样弄得你滑稽又痴呆。
你想入非非，把快乐胡琢磨，来宽慰心怀。
又离奇地琢磨悲哀，弄得自己死去活来。

她现在把她已织成的东西又都拆开，
因为阿都尼还在，那死神就无可指摘。
她刚才说他一钱不值并非她的本怀。
她现在给他那可恨的名字贴金敷彩。
她叫他坟之国王，国王之坟，把他来推戴。
一切有生，他最尊贵，他应受到一切崇拜。

“甜美的死神，”她说，“刚才的话都是胡扯。
因为，我看到了野猪——那个残暴的家伙，
就吓得直打哆嗦，所以我请你原谅我。
那东西，不懂什么叫仁慈，只一味凶恶。
因此，温柔的黑阴影，我得对你把实话说：
我怕我的所爱遭不幸，才对你大动唇舌。

“那不是我的错。野猪惹得我乱道胡说。
无形影的掌权者，有怨气请对它发作。
侮辱冤枉你的，本是那个肮脏的家伙。
我只受命执行，它才是诬蔑的主使者。
悲痛本来有两条长舌。像女人那样软弱，
若无十人的本领，就难把二舌制伏束缚。”

这样，她因为希望阿都尼还在世上，
就把原先莽撞的恐惧疑虑渐渐扫光；
又因为希望他的美将来更灿烂辉煌，
还卑躬屈节地把死神又奉承、又赞扬，
把死者的坟穴、墓志、碑碣、雕像和行状，
死神的胜利、凯旋和荣光，都大讲而特讲。

“哦，天帝啊，”她说，“我真正是拙笨愚蠢，
竟能因疑虑惊惧而思想乱，头脑昏，
把活人当死人。其实他要永远长存，
除非一切尽毁灭，天地万物共沉沦。
因为他若一旦死去，‘美’也就要同归于尽。
‘美’若一死，宇宙也就要再一度混乱浑沌。

“唉唉，痴傻的‘爱’，你老满怀的恐惧疑猜，
就像身带珠宝的人，有盗贼四外徘徊；
耳不能闻、目不能见的琐细微小事态，
你那忐忑的心却偏能胡测度，瞎悲哀。”
刚说到这里，只听得欢乐的号角声传来，
她于是不觉欢跃，虽然刚才还身在苦海。

她飕地跑去，就像鹞鹰一掣而不可制，
步履轻盈，经过的地方草都照旧直立。
她正匆匆前奔，却不幸一下看在眼里：
她那俊秀的所爱，在野猪的牙下身死。
她一见那样，双目立刻失明，好像受了电殛；
又像星星不敢和白日争光，一下退避躲起；

又像一个蜗牛，柔嫩的触角一受打击，
就疼痛难忍，连忙缩回到自己的壳里，
在那儿蜷伏，如同憋死一样屏气敛息，
过了好久好久，还不敢再把头角显露。
她当时一看到他这样血淋漓、肉模糊，
她的眼睛就一下逃到头上幽暗的深处，

在那儿它们把职务交卸，把光明委弃，
全听凭她那骚动的脑府来安排处治。
脑府就叫它们和昏沉的夜作伴为侣，
不再看外面的景象，免得叫心府悲凄。
因为她的心，像宝座上神魂无主的皇帝，
受眼睛传来的启示，呻吟不止，愁苦欲死。

于是所有的臣子，也无不战栗俯伏，
好像烈风闭在大地之下，硬夺出路，
就引起了地震和海啸、山崩和水沸，
把人吓得身出冷汗，吓得心乱无主。
她的心就这样骚乱，使四肢百骸齐惊怖，
于是她的眼光又从潜伏的暗室中射出。

她又看见了本来不愿看的极惨奇丑：
野猪在他的嫩腰上扎的那个大伤口。
原先白如百合的地方，现在殷红渍透，
好像伤口为他悲痛，血泪喷洒无尽休。
在他身旁，不论是花是草，不论是苗是莠，
好像无不染上他的血，像他一样把血流。

可怜的维纳斯，看到花草都惋惜、同情；
她的头垂在肩上，软绵绵地不能直挺。
她只哑然无声伤悼，像癫了一般悲痛，
她还以为他不会死，还认为他有活命。
她的嗓子忘了如何发声，骨节也不会动。
她的眼一直哭到现在，都哭得如痴似疯。

她对他的伤，目不转睛地一直细端详；
眼都看花了，把一处伤看作了三处伤。
她对自己的眼申斥，说不该胡乱撒谎，
把完好的地方说成血肉模糊的模样。
他的脸好似成了两个，肢体也像成了双；
因为心里一慌，看东西就往往渺渺茫茫。

“只死了一个，我就已说不出来地悲痛，
哪能受得了两个阿都尼身卧血泊中？
我已经无余气可再叹，无余泪可再倾。
我两只眼火一样红，一颗心铅一般重。
铅一般的心啊，顶好叫这火一样的眼烧熔！
这样，我便可随热爱滴滴化去，了却一生。

“唉！可怜的人世！你失去的是甚样珍异！
哪里还有秀美的人物值得瞻仰顾视？
哪里还有语声能那样悦人耳，快人意？
不论将来，不论过去，你都再一无可取。
花儿固然芬芳清逸，绚烂璀璨，鲜艳美丽，
但是真正甜蜜的美，却只和他同生共死。

“从现在起，你再不需要披面纱，戴帽子，
因为风和日，不会用尽方法想去吻你。
你本无可畏惧，只因为你本无可丢失。
对于你，日只瞋之以目，风只嗤之以鼻。
但阿都尼生的时候，多情的峭风和烈日，
却像两个隐在暗处的贼，掠夺他的美丽。

“因为如此，所以他才不得不戴帽子，
但辉煌的太阳，偏从帽子下面窥视。
风也吹他的帽子，想要把帽子吹去，
以便和他的鬈发游戏。于是他哭泣。
太阳和风一见他如此，便怜他年幼齿稚，
又看谁能把他的泪先擦干了，互相比试。

“狮子为赏识他的美，在篱后偷偷跟随，
不敢露面儿，恐怕他见了惊吓而后退。
他唱歌的时候，猛虎听见了也都心醉，
变得老实、温柔、驯顺，不像个兽中之魁。
狼正大嚼牺牲，听到他说话的声音优美，
也停止了饕餮，一天都不再和羊羔作对。

“他若溪边暂立闲行，把影子映在水中，
鱼都聚在影子上面，展金鳃唼喋涵泳。
他在鸟儿跟前，鸟儿也又喜悦、又欢腾，
有的唱歌给他听，有的就用尖喙轻灵，
给他含来桑椹丛丛，或者樱桃又圆又红。
他把秀色供它们赏，它们就用果子回敬。

“但是这个狰狞龌龊、嘴如刺蝟的野猪，
却老把眼睛瞅着地上，到处寻找坟墓。
阿都尼秀美的好皮囊，它永无法目睹。
你若不信，请看它要怎样迎接阿都尼：
如果它能看见他的脸，那我决深信不疑，
它就一定想要吻他，而因吻他把他害死。

“不错，不错，阿都尼就这样叫它害死：
原先他用尖熗，朝着野猪刺去之时，
野猪并没想要在他身上磨牙砺齿。
它只想用接吻的方式，把他来阻止，
哪知多情的野猪刚把嘴往他腰上一触，
就不知不觉，把牙扎到他那柔嫩的鼠蹊。

“我得承认，我的牙若长得和野猪一样，
那我早就要因为吻他而叫他把命丧。
他现已不在世上，他的青春大梦一场，
永未给我的青春福祥，叫我更觉悲伤。”
她说到这里，就一下倒在她站的那地方，
他开始凝固的血，也染在她美丽的脸上。

她往他唇上望，他的唇灰白非复旧样；
她拉他的手，他的手早已经僵硬冰凉；
她在他耳旁低声细说她的忧怨悲伤，
仿佛他的耳朵还能听见她哀诉愁肠；
她把他紧紧贴在眼上的眼皮分掰成两，
只见原先那两盏灯已经熄灭，昏暗无光。

那本是两面明镜；她曾见自己的倩影，
不止千回万遍，在那里面玲珑地反映。
它们本是眼中之英，但一旦失去功能，
所有的美，就永远也起不了美的作用。
“你虽已死，白日却仍旧一样地清澈晶明，
你万世的俊英啊！”她说，“这真是要我的命！

“你今既已丧命，那我可以预言一通：
从此以后，‘爱’要永远有‘忧愁’作随从；
它要永远有‘嫉妒’来把它伏侍供奉。
它虽以甜蜜始，却永远要以烦恼终。
凡情之所钟，永远要贵贱参差，高下难同，
因此，它的快乐永远要敌不过它的苦痛。

“它永要负心薄倖、反复无常、杨花水性；
要在萌芽时，就一瞬间受摧残而雕零；
它要里面藏毒素，却用甜美粉饰外形，
叫眼力最好的人，都受它的矇骗欺哄；
它能叫最强健精壮的变得最软弱无能；
叫愚人伶牙俐齿，却叫智士不能出一声。

“它要锱铢必较，却又过分地放荡奢豪；
教给老迈龙钟的人飘飘然跳踊舞蹈，
而好勇狠斗的强梁，却只能少安勿躁；
它把富人打倒，却给穷人财物和珠宝；
它温柔得一团棉软，又疯狂得大肆咆哮；
它叫老年人变成儿童，叫青年变得衰老。

“无可恐惧的时候，它却偏偏要恐惧，
最应疑虑的时候，它却又毫不疑虑；
它一方面仁慈，另一方面却又狠戾；
它好像最公平的时候，它就最诈欺；
它最驯顺热烈的时候，它就最桀骜冷酷；
它叫懦夫变得大胆，却叫勇士变成懦夫。

“它要激起战事，惹起一切可怕的变故；
它要叫父子之间嫌隙日生，争端百出；
一切的不满，它全都尽力地护持扶助，
它们臭味相投，惟有干柴烈火可仿佛。
既然我的所爱还在少年，就叫死神召去，
那么，一切情深的人都不许有爱的乐趣。”

她说到这里，躺在她旁边的那孩子，
慢慢地烟消雾散，只化得无踪无迹。
于是，从他洒在地上的那片血泊里，
一棵鲜红雪白相间的花一下涌起，
非常地像他那种鲜丽红艳的圆圆血滴，
在他那雪白的双颊上现出，分明又清晰。

她低下头去，闻那棵鲜花发出的香气。
她把这种香气和他当日喘的气比拟，
她说：死亡既使阿都尼和她两下分离，
那她的香怀就要从此永供这花栖息。
她把花枝折，只见折的地方绿汁流不止。
她说，这就是花的泪水，为死去的他惋惜。

“儿子已经很香，你父亲却比你还要香；
可怜的花，”她说，“你和你父亲完全相像，
他就是有一丁点儿烦恼，就流泪悲伤。
他抱定了自生自灭、自存自亡的愿望。
这也是你的愿望。不过有句话你不要忘：
他的血就把你化，我的怀就要把你抚养。

“你父亲当日的床榻，就安在我的怀中，
你是他的继承人，这床理应归你受用。
所以，你要在这个软摇篮里安身立命。
我这跳动的心，要日夜给你把它摆动。
我每一点钟里面要连一分钟也都不停，
和我甜蜜的所爱化的花接吻，把它抚弄。”

她对尘世已厌倦，就匆匆起身无留恋，
驾起那两只鸽子，要离开纷扰的人间。
她在车上坐好，鸽子立刻往空中盘旋，
拉着香辇轻蒨，通过天宇寥廓路漫漫，
朝着巴福斯④的去程，把莽莽尘寰抛得远。
在那岛上，爱后打算静居深藏，不再露面。

[Novel] 维纳斯与阿都尼（中英）