a royal poet-第2部分
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the vicissitudes of his own life; and the evils that had overtaken him
even in his tender youth。 Suddenly he hears the bell ringing to
matins; but its sound; chiming in with his melancholy fancies; seems
to him like a voice exhorting him to write his story。 In the spirit of
poetic errantry he determines to comply with this intimation: he
therefore takes pen in hand; makes with it a sign of the cross to
implore a benediction; and sallies forth into the fairy land of
poetry。 There is something extremely fanciful in all this; and it is
interesting as furnishing a striking and beautiful instance of the
simple manner in which whole trains of poetical thought are
sometimes awakened; and literary enterprises suggested to the mind。
In the course of his poem he more than once bewails the peculiar
hardness of his fate; thus doomed to lonely and inactive life; and
shut up from the freedom and pleasure of the world; in which the
meanest animal indulges unrestrained。 There is a sweetness; however;
in his very complaints; they are the lamentations of an amiable and
social spirit at being denied the indulgence of its kind and
generous propensities; there is nothing in them harsh nor exaggerated;
they flow with a natural and touching pathos; and are perhaps rendered
more touching by their simple brevity。 They contrast finely with those
elaborate and iterated repinings; which we sometimes meet with in
poetry;… the effusions of morbid minds sickening under miseries of
their own creating; and venting their bitterness upon an unoffending
world。 James speaks of his privations with acute sensibility; but
having mentioned them passes on; as if his manly mind disdained to
brood over unavoidable calamities。 When such a spirit breaks forth
into complaint; however brief; we are aware how great must be the
suffering that extorts the murmur。 We sympathize with James; a
romantic; active; and accomplished prince; cut off in the lustihood of
youth from all the enterprise; the noble uses; and vigorous delights
of life; as we do with Milton; alive to all the beauties of nature and
glories of art; when he breathes forth brief; but deep…toned
lamentations over his perpetual blindness。
Had not James evinced a deficiency of poetic artifice; we might
almost have suspected that these lowerings of gloomy reflection were
meant as preparative to the brightest scene of his story; and to
contrast with that refulgence of light and loveliness; that
exhilarating accompaniment of bird and song; and foliage and flower;
and all the revel of the year; with which he ushers in the lady of his
heart。 It is this scene; in particular; which throws all the magic
of romance about the old Castle Keep。 He had risen; he says; at
daybreak; according to custom; to escape from the dreary meditations
of a sleepless pillow。 〃Bewailing in his chamber thus alone;〃
despairing of all joy and remedy; 〃for; tired of thought and
wobegone;〃 he had wandered to the window; to indulge the captive's
miserable solace of gazing wistfully upon the world from which he is
excluded。 The window looked forth upon a small garden which lay at the
foot of the tower。 It was a quiet; sheltered spot; adorned with arbors
and green alleys; and protected from the passing gaze by trees and
hawthorn hedges。
Now was there made; fast by the tower's wall;
A garden faire; and in the corners set
An arbour green with wandis long and small
Railed about; and so with leaves beset
Was all the place and hawthorn hedges knet;
That lyf* was none; walkyng there forbye
That might within scarce any wight espye。
So thick the branches and the leves grene;
Beshaded all the alleys that there were;
And midst of every arbour might be sene
The sharpe; grene; swete juniper;
Growing so fair; with branches here and there;
That as it seemed to a lyf without;
The boughs did spread the arbour all about。
And on the small grene twistis*(2) set
The lytel swete nightingales; and sung
So loud and clear; the hymnis consecrate
Of lovis use; now soft; now loud among;
That all the garden and the wallis rung
Right of their song…
* Lyf; Person。
*(2) Twistis; small boughs or twigs。
Note。… The language of the quotations is generally modernized。
It was the month of May; when every thing was in bloom; and he
interprets the song of the nightingale into the language of his
enamored feeling:
Worship; all ye that lovers be; this May;
For of your bliss the kalends are begun;
And sing with us; away; winter; away;
Come; summer; come; the sweet season and sun。
As he gazes on the scene; and listens to the notes of the birds;
he gradually relapses into one of those tender and undefinable
reveries; which fill the youthful bosom in this delicious season。 He
wonders what this love may be; of which he has so often read; and
which thus seems breathed forth in the quickening breath of May; and
melting all nature into ecstasy and song。 If it really be so great a
felicity; and if it be a boon thus generally dispensed to the most
insignificant beings; why is he alone cut off from its enjoyments?
Oft would I think; O Lord; what may this be;
That love is of such noble myght and kynde?
Loving his folke; and such prosperitee
Is it of him; as we in books do find:
May he oure hertes setten* and unbynd:
Hath he upon our hertes such maistrye?
Or is all this but feynit fantasye?
For giff he be of so grete excellence;
That he of every wight hath care and charge;
What have I gilt*(2) to him; or done offense;
That I am thral'd; and birdis go at large?
* Setten; incline。
*(2) Gilt; what injury have I done; etc。
In the midst of his musing; as he casts his eye downward; he beholds
〃the fairest and the freshest young floure〃 that ever he had seen。
It is the lovely Lady Jane; walking in the garden to enjoy the
beauty of that 〃fresh May morrowe。〃 Breaking thus suddenly upon his
sight; in the moment of loneliness and excited susceptibility; she
at once captivates the fancy of the romantic prince; and becomes the
object of his wandering wishes; the sovereign of his ideal world。
There is; in this charming scene; an evident resemblance to the
early part of Chaucer's Knight's Tale; where Palamon and Arcite fall
in love with Emilia; whom they see walking in the garden of their
prison。 Perhaps the similarity of the actual fact to the incident
which he had read in Chaucer may have induced James to dwell on it
in his poem。 His description of the Lady Jane is given in the
picturesque and minute manner of his master; and being doubtless taken
from the life; is a perfect portrait of a beauty of that day。 He
dwells; with the fondness of a lover; on every article of her apparel;
from the net of pearl; splendent with emeralds and sapphires; that
confined her golden hair; even to the 〃goodly chaine of small
orfeverye〃* about her neck; whereby there hung a ruby in shape of a
heart; that seemed; he says; like a spark of fire burning upon her
white bosom。 Her dress of white tissue was looped up to enable her
to walk with more freedom。 She was accompanied by two female
attendants; and about her sported a little hound decorated with bells;
probably the small Italian hound of exquisite symmetry; which was a
parlor favorite and pet among the fashionable dames of ancient
times。 James closes his description by a burst of general eulogium:
* Wrought gold。
In her was youth; beauty; with humble port;
Bounty; richesse; and womanly feature;
God better knows then my pen can report;
Wisdom; largesse;* estate;*(2) and cunning*(3) sure;
In every point so guided her measure;
In word; in deed; in shape; in countenance;
That nature might no more her child advance。
* Largesse; bounty。
*(2) Estate; dignity。
*(3) Cunning; discretion。
The departure of the Lady Jane from the garden puts an end to this
transient riot of the heart。 With her departs the amorous illusion
that had shed a temporary charm over the scene of his captivity; and
he relapses into loneliness; now rendered tenfold more intolerable
by this passing beam of unattainable beauty。 Through the long and
weary day he repines at his unhappy lot; and when evening
approaches; and Phoebus; as he beautifully expresses it; had 〃bade
farewell to every leaf and flower;〃 he still lingers at the window;
and; laying his head upon the cold stone; gives vent to a mingled flow
of love and sorrow; until; gradually lulled by the mute melancholy
of the twilight hour; he lapses; 〃half sleeping; half swoon;〃 into a
vision; which occupies the remainder of the poem; and in which is
allegorically shadowed out the history of his passion。
When he wakes from his trance; he rises from his stony pillow;
and; pacing his apartment; full of dreary reflections; questions his
spirit; whither it has been wandering; whether; indeed; all that has
passed before his dreaming fancy has been conjured up by preceding
circumstances; or whether it is a vision; intended to comfort and
assure him in his despondency。 If the latter; he prays that some token
may be sent to confirm the promise of happier days; given him in his
slumbers。 Suddenly; a turtle dove; of the purest whiteness; comes
flying in at the window; and alights upon his hand; bearing in her
bill a branch of red gilliflower; on the leaves of which is written;
in letters of gold; the following sentence:
Awake! awake! I bring; lover; I bring
The newis glad that blissful is; and sure
Of thy comfort; now laugh; and play; and sing;
For in the heaven decretit is thy cure。
He receives the branch with mingled hope and dread; read