the home book of verse-4-第10部分
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His Christian name； I think； was John； …
His surname； Leisure。
Reynolds has painted him； … a face
Filled with a fine； old…fashioned grace；
Fresh…colored； frank； with ne'er a trace
Of trouble shaded；
The eyes are blue； the hair is dressed
In plainest way； … one hand is pressed
Deep in a flapped canary vest；
With buds brocaded。
He wears a brown old Brunswick coat；
With silver buttons； … round his throat；
A soft cravat； … in all you note
An elder fashion； …
A strangeness； which； to us who shine
In shapely hats； … whose coats combine
All harmonies of hue and line；
Inspires compassion。
He lived so long ago； you see！
Men were untravelled then； but we；
Like Ariel； post o'er land and sea
With careless parting；
He found it quite enough for him
To smoke his pipe in 〃garden trim；〃
And watch； about the fish tank's brim；
The swallows darting。
He liked the well…wheel's creaking tongue； …
He liked the thrush that fed her young； …
He liked the drone of flies among
His netted peaches；
He liked to watch the sunlight fall
Athwart his ivied orchard wall；
Or pause to catch the cuckoo's call
Beyond the beeches。
His were the times of Paint and Patch；
And yet no Ranelagh could match
The sober doves that round his thatch
Spread tails and sidled；
He liked their ruffling； puffed content；
For him their drowsy wheelings meant
More than a Mall of Beaux that bent；
Or Belles that bridled。
Not that； in truth； when life began
He shunned the flutter of the fan；
He too had maybe 〃pinked his man〃
In Beauty's quarrel；
But now his 〃fervent youth〃 had flown
Where lost things go； and he was grown
As staid and slow…paced as his own
Old hunter； Sorrel。
Yet still he loved the chase； and held
That no composer's score excelled
The merry horn； when Sweetlip swelled
Its jovial riot；
But most his measured words of praise
Caressed the angler's easy ways； …
His idly meditative days； …
His rustic diet。
Not that his 〃meditating〃 rose
Beyond a sunny summer doze；
He never troubled his repose
With fruitless prying；
But held； as law for high and low；
What God withholds no man can know；
And smiled away enquiry so；
Without replying。
We read … alas； how much we read！ …
The jumbled strifes of creed and creed
With endless controversies feed
Our groaning tables；
His books … and they sufficed him … were
Cotton's Montaigne； The Grave of Blair；
A 〃Walton〃 … much the worse for wear；
And Aesop's Fables。
One more … The Bible。 Not that he
Had searched its page as deep as we；
No sophistries could make him see
Its slender credit；
It may be that he could not count
The sires and sons to Jesse's fount； …
He liked the 〃Sermon on the Mount；〃 …
And more； he read it。
Once he had loved； but failed to wed；
A red…cheeked lass who long was dead；
His ways were far too slow； he said；
To quite forget her；
And still when time had turned him gray；
The earliest hawthorn buds in May
Would find his lingering feet astray；
Where first he met her。
〃In Coelo Quies〃 heads the stone
On Leisure's grave； … now little known；
A tangle of wild…rose has grown
So thick across it；
The 〃Benefactions〃 still declare
He left the clerk an elbow…chair；
And 〃12 Pence Yearly to Prepare
A Christmas Posset。〃
Lie softly； Leisure！ Doubtless you；
With too serene a conscience drew
Your easy breath； and slumbered through
The gravest issue；
But we； to whom our age allows
Scarce space to wipe our weary brows；
Look down upon your narrow house；
Old friend； and miss you！
Austin Dobson ＇1840…1921＇
ON A FAN
That Belonged To The Marquise De Pompadour
Chicken…skin； delicate； white；
Painted by Carlo Vanloo；
Loves in a riot of light；
Roses and vaporous blue；
Hark to the dainty frou…frou！
Picture above； if you can；
Eyes that could melt as the dew； …
This was the Pompadour's fan！
See how they rise at the sight；
Thronging the Ceil de Boeuf through；
Courtiers as butterflies bright；
Beauties that Fragonard drew；
Talon…rouge； falbala； queue；
Cardinal； Duke； … to a man；
Eager to sigh or to sue； …
This was the Pompadour's fan！
Ah； but things more than polite
Hung on this toy； voyez…vous！
Matters of state and of might；
Things that great ministers do；
Things that； maybe； overthrew
Those in whose brains they began；
Here was the sign and the cue； …
This was the Pompadour's fan！
ENVOY
Where are the secrets it knew？
Weavings of plot and of plan？
… But where is the Pompadour； too？
This was the Pompadour's Fan！
Austin Dobson ＇1840…1921＇
〃WHEN I SAW YOU LAST； ROSE〃
When I saw you last； Rose；
You were only so high； …
How fast the time goes！
Like a bud ere it blows；
You just peeped at the sky；
When I saw you last； Rose！
Now your petals unclose；
Now your May…time is nigh； …
How fast the time goes！
And a life； … how it grows！
You were scarcely so shy；
When I saw you last； Rose！
In your bosom it shows
There's a guest on the sly；
（How fast the time goes！）
Is it Cupid？ Who knows！
Yet you used not to sigh；
When I saw you last； Rose； …
How fast the time goes！
Austin Dobson ＇1840…1921＇
URCEUS EXIT
I intended an Ode；
And it turned to a Sonnet。
It began a la mode；
I intended an Ode；
But Rose crossed the road
In her latest new bonnet；
I intended an Ode；
And it turned to a Sonnet。
Austin Dobson ＇1840…1921＇
A CORSAGE BOUQUET
Myrtilla； to…night；
Wears Jacqueminot roses。
She's the loveliest sight！
Myrtilla to…night： …
Correspondingly light
My pocket…book closes。
Myrtilla； to…night
Wears Jacqueminot roses。
Charles Henry Luders ＇1858…1891＇
TWO TRIOLETS
What he said： …
This kiss upon your fan I press …
Ah！ Sainte Nitouche； you don't refuse it！
And may it from its soft recess …
This kiss upon your fan I press …
Be blown to you； a shy caress；
By this white down； whene'er you use it。
This kiss upon your fan I press； …
Ah； Sainte Nitouche； you don't refuse it！
What she thought： …
To kiss a fan！
What a poky poet！
The stupid man
To kiss a fan
When he knows … that … he … can …
Or ought to know it …
To kiss a fan！
What a poky poet！
Harrison Robertson ＇1856…
THE BALLAD OF DEAD LADIES
From The French Of Francois Villon 1450
Tell me now in what hidden way is
Lady Flora the lovely Roman？
Where's Hipparchia； and where is Thais；
Neither of them the fairer woman？
Where is Echo； beheld of no man；
Only heard on river and mere； …
She whose beauty was more than human？ 。 。 。
But where are the snows of yester…year？
Where's Heloise； the learned nun；
For whose sake Abeilard； I ween；
Lost manhood and put priesthood on？
（From Love he won such dule and teen！）
And where； I pray you； is the Queen
Who willed that Buridan should steer
Sewed in a sack's mouth down the Seine？ 。 。 。
But where are the snows of yester…year？
White Queen Blanche； like a queen of lilies；
With a voice like any mermaiden； …
Bertha Broadfoot； Beatrice； Alice；
And Ermengarde the lady of Maine； …
And that good Joan whom Englishmen
At Rouen doomed and burned her there； …
Mother of God； where are they then？ 。 。 。
But where are the snows of yester…year？
Nay； never ask this week； fair lord；
Where they are gone； nor yet this year；
Except with this for an overword； …
But where are the snows of yester…year？
Dante Gabriel Rossetti ＇1828…1882＇
BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES
After Villon
Nay； tell me now in what strange air
The Roman Flora dwells to…day；
Where Archippiada hides； and where
Beautiful Thais has passed away？
Whence answers Echo； afield； astray；
By mere or stream； … around； below？
Lovelier she than a woman of clay；
Nay； but where is the last year's snow？
Where is wise Heloise； that care
Brought on Abeilard； and dismay？
All for her love he found a snare；
A maimed poor monk in orders gray；
And where's the Queen who willed to slay
Buridan； that in a sack must go
Afloat down Seine； … a perilous way …
Nay； but where is the last year's snow？
Where's that White Queen； a lily rare；
With her sweet song； the Siren's lay？
Where's Bertha Broad…foot； Beatrice fair？
Alys and Ermengarde； where are they？
Good Joan； whom English did betray
In Rouen town； and burned her？ No；
Maiden and Queen； no man may say；
Nay； but where is the last year's snow？
ENVOY
Prince； all this week thou needst not pray；
Nor yet this year the thing to know。
One burden answers； ever and aye；
〃Nay； but where is the last year's snow？〃
Andrew Lang ＇1844…1912＇
A BALLAD OF DEAD LADIES
After Villon
From 〃If I Were King〃
I wonder in what Isle of Bliss
Apollo's music fills the air；
In what green valley Artemis
For young Endymion spreads the snare：
Where Venus lingers debonair：
The Wind has blown them all away …
And Pan lies piping in his lair …
Where are the Gods of Yesterday？
Say where the great Semiramis
Sleeps in a rose…red tomb； and where
The precious dust of Caesar is；
Or Cleopatra's yellow hair：
Where Alexander Do…and…Dare；
The Wind has blown them all away …
And Redbeard of the Iron Chair；
Where are the Dreams of Yesterday？
Where is the Queen of Herod's kiss；
And Phryne in her beauty bare；
By what strange sea does Tomyris
With Dido and Cassandra share
Divine Proserpina's despair；
The Wind has blown them all away …
For what poor ghost does Helen care？
Where are the Girls of Yesterday？
ENVOY
Alas for lovers！ Pair by pair
The Wind has blown them all away：
The young and yare； the fond and fair：
Where are the Snows of Yesterday？
Justin Huntly McCarthy ＇1860…1936＇
IF I WERE KING
Af
