MARK but this flea, and mark in this, How little that which thou deniest me is ; It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee, And in this flea our two bloods mingled be. Thou know'st that this cannot be said A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ; Yet this enjoys before it woo, And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ; And this, alas ! is more than we would do.
O stay, three lives in one flea spare, Where we almost, yea, more than married are. This flea is you and I, and this Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is. Though parents grudge, and you, we're met, And cloister'd in these living walls of jet. Though use make you apt to kill me, Let not to that self-murder added be, And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence? Wherein could this flea guilty be, Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee? Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now. 'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ; Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me, Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
We are a sign, meaningless We are painless and have almost Forgotten speech in exile. But if there is strife in heaven over mankind And the moon travels in force, so the sea Will speak and the rivers must Find their way. Undoubtedly, though, There is one, who Can bring forth change daily. He scarcely needs The law. And it sounds the leaves and rings the oak trees By the glaciers. As not everything is possible for The heavenly ones. That is, mortals almost Reach into the abyss. Thus it turns, the echo, With them. Time is Long, but the truth Will come to pass.
E. E. Cummings か。名前は有名だし、僕の好きな Woody Allen の映画の中でも その詩人の話が何回か出てきたから気にはなってたけど、全く読んだことがなかった。 さっそく検索して、そのうちの一つを走り読みしてみた。面白いじゃんか。
i like my body when it is with your by E. E. Cummings
i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite a new thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,
When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; When lofty trees I see barren of leaves Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, Then of thy beauty do I question make, That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake And die as fast as they see others grow; And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory: But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel: Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament, And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content, And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding: Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery so gazed on now, Will be a totter'd weed of small worth held: Then being asked, where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days; To say, within thine own deep sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame, and thriftless praise. How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use, If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,' Proving his beauty by succession thine! This were to be new made when thou art old, And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
Song of Myself, 24
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest.
Unscrew the locks from the doors! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!
The Lake Isle of Innisfree by William Butler Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
When voices of children are heard on the green, And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast, And everything else is still. 'Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, And the dews of night arise; Come, come, leave off play, and let us away, Till the morning appears in the skies.'
'No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, And we cannot go to sleep; Besides, in the sky the little birds fly, And the hills are all covered with sheep.' 'Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, And then go home to bed.' The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laughed, And all the hills echoed.
William Blake って、かなり古い時代の人である割には、この人の詩は、 あんまり英詩に慣れてない僕にもわかりやすい。心の素直な人だったから なのかな?
"The Raven" Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.'
I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry ; But where's that wise man, that would not be I, If she would not deny ? Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away, I thought, if I could draw my pains Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.
But when I have done so, Some man, his art and voice to show, Doth set and sing my pain ; And, by delighting many, frees again Grief, which verse did restrain. To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, But not of such as pleases when 'tis read. Both are increasèd by such songs, For both their triumphs so are published, And I, which was two fools, do so grow three. Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow ― You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand ― How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep ― while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
I am two fools, I know, 俺は2つの意味でバカだってわかってる。 For loving, and for saying so だって恋をしてるから、そしてそれを In whining poetry ; めそめそ詩にしてるから。 But where's that wise man, that would not be I, でもちょっと賢い奴なら誰だって、俺みたいにするだろ。 If she would not deny ? 彼女にダメって言われないなら。 Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes 地球の地下をうねる細い水脈が、 Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,海水のしょっぺー塩をろ過するように、 I thought, if I could draw my pains 韻のうねりで恋の辛さを取り除くことができたなら、 Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. 俺の気持ちが楽になるだろ。 Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, 悲しみをリズムに乗せたなら少しはマシになるだろ。 For he tames it, that fetters it in verse. その辛さを飼い慣らすために、詩の中に繋ぎ留めるんだ。
But when I have done so, でも俺がそうして詩を作ったら、 Some man, his art and voice to show, 他の奴らが技と声を披露するために Doth set and sing my pain ; 俺の痛みを歌い始める。 And, by delighting many, frees again 俺の詩はたくさんの人を喜ばせることで、繋いでいた痛みを解き放つ。 Grief, which verse did restrain. 詩に悲しみを閉じ込めたのは、 To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, これ以上愛し嘆かないためなのに、 But not of such as pleases when 'tis read. それらは読まれるためのものじゃないのに、 Both are increasèd by such songs, そうやって歌われると、余計に恋しく、悲しくなるじゃん。 For both their triumphs so are published, それら2つが俺を満たせば、 And I, which was two fools, do so grow three. 2つの意味でバカだった俺が3つの意味でバカになる。 Who are a little wise, the best fools be. ちょっと賢い奴が1番のバカに。
John Donne とか Shakespeare など、古い英文学を読む人は、どういう辞書を 使ってるのかな? Shorter Oxford Dictionary なのか、あるいは Oxford English Dictionary なのかな？
今、Walt WhitmanのLeaves of Grass「草の葉」にある I sing he Body Electric って詩を読んでて疑問に思ったのですが
２部の頭にある "The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account" って文章はどんな意味なのでしょうか？ 特にbalks accountってのが難しいです balkっていろんな意味があって中にperfectって意味もあるようなのでおそらく詩の 流れからこれだと思うんですがaccountって？
I am two fools, I know, そうさ、オイラは馬鹿も馬鹿、 For loving, and for saying so 恋に身を焼き恋歌唄う In whining poetry ; 泣き虫詩人の大馬鹿者さ。 But where's that wise man, that would not be I, 頭よくてもこうかもね、 If she would not deny ? カノジョに肘鉄喰らうまで？ Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes 地下に流れるくねくね水よ、 Do purge sea water's fretful salt away, 潮（うしお）の塩を取り除けて、 I thought, if I could draw my pains オイラのこころを真水に戻せ Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. 癒しのリズムを冀（こいねが）う。 Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, ああ、この嘆きをば如何（いか）んせん、 For he tames it, that fetters it in verse. ことばよことば、詩（うた）になれ。
But when I have done so, けれどもやっぱ詩なんて Some man, his art and voice to show, あんちゃん達のひとくさり、 Doth set and sing my pain ; オイラのこころの痛みとや。 And, by delighting many, frees again オイラのこころの痛みこそ、さあご照覧、 Grief, which verse did restrain. 悲しき詩の花吹雪。 To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, 愛して泣いてちゃ世話ねーな、 But not of such as pleases when 'tis read. 読んで喜ぶ素振りがニクイ。 Both are increased by such songs, どんどん悲しくなるばかり、 For both their triumphs so are published, どのみち知られることだけど、 And I, which was two fools, do so grow three. オイラの馬鹿は三層倍。 Who are a little wise, the best fools be. しゃらくせーやい、馬鹿サイコー。
From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew: Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. Yet seemed it winter still, and you away, As with your shadow I with these did play.
Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there; I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the soft starlight at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die. 
Virginia Woolf の "Mrs. Dalloway" を読んでると Shakespeare の台詞がよく出てくる。 "Fear no more the heat o' the sun" っていう言葉も何度か出てきたので気になって 調べてみたら、これも Shakespeare だった。改めてその一節をすべて読んでみたけど、 辞書を引かなくても大体の意味がわかるからびっくりした。Shakespeare って僕にとっては 難しいと思いがちだけど、大雑把になら辞書なしでも理解できる部分もけっこうありそう。 それはともかく、とてもいい詩だ。
その Shakespeare の一節は、これ。
Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun
Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art done, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The Sceptre, Learning, Physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor the'all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finished joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust. No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Ghost unlaid forbear thee! Nothing ill come near thee! Quiet consummation have, And renownèd by thy grave!
High waving heather, 'neath stormy blasts bending, Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars; Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending, Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending, Man's spirit away from its drear dongeon sending, Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.
All down the mountain sides, wild forest lending One mighty voice to the life-giving wind; Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending, Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending, Wider and deeper their waters extending, Leaving a desolate desert behind.
Shining and lowering and swelling and dying, Changing for ever from midnight to noon; Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing, Shadows on shadows advancing and flying, Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying, Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.
Romeo: See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!
Juliet: Ay me!
Romeo: She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Juliet: O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name! Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
LOVE in her Sunny Eyes does basking play; Love walks the pleasant Mazes of her Hair; Love does on both her Lips for ever stray; And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there. In all her outward parts Love 's always seen; 5 But, oh, He never went within.
Within Love's foes, his greatest foes abide, Malice, Inconstancy, and Pride. So the Earths face, Trees, Herbs, and Flowers do dress, With other beauties numberless: 10 But at the Center, Darkness is, and Hell; There wicked Spirits, and there the Damned dwell.
With me alas, quite contrary it fares; Darkness and Death lies in my weeping eyes, Despair and Paleness in my face appears, 15 And Grief, and Fear, Love's greatest Enemies; But, like the Persian-Tyrant, Love within Keeps his proud Court, and ne're is seen.
Oh take my Heart, and by that means you'll prove Within too stor'd enough of Love: 20 Give me but Yours, I'll by that change so thrive, That Love in all my parts shall live. So powerful is this change, it render can, My outside Woman, and your inside Man. http://www.bartleby.com/105/61.html
The more cold-blooded your calculations, the further you will go. Strike ruthlessly; you will be feared. ... in this way you will reach the goal of your ambition. ... if you have a heart, lock it carefully away like a treasure; do not let any one suspect it, or you will be lost; you would cease to be the executioner, you would take the victim's place. And if ever you should love, never let your secret escape you! Trust no one until you are very sure of the heart to which you open your heart. Learn to mistrust every one; take every precaution for the sake of the love which does not exist as yet.
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed---and gazed---but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
これは、歌の歌詞のようです。life とか time が "stand still" するという表現が ときどき使われているようだけど、英語のネイティブたちはそれを positive なニュアンスで 使っているのか、それとも negative なニュアンスで使っているのかを確かめたくて、 Google 検索しているうちに見つけたものです。この歌詞の中では、"make life stand still" という表現が出てきます。
YOU MADE MY LIFE STAND STILL LYRICS - JOSHUA PAYNE
Just below the exit sign You were shining like the moon You looked at me as if You left your heart somewhere And now you've gone and closed the door.
I tried to smile; I tried to play The one who simply walks away But the streeetlights sing your song And I can't get along Without your love inside of me.
Run away, run away Don't let the stars get in your way The sky was painted blue The night that time stood still
[Ed. Note: On New Year's Day of 1773, after hearing a sermon, Cowper became convinced that God had turned away from him, a belief that remained with him for the last 27 years of his life. In this poem, the last Cowper ever wrote, he gives expression to this belief by comparing himself to a sailor with Commodore William Anson's fleet which had circumnavigated the world during 1741-1744; the sailor has fallen overboard in a storm, and Cowper imagines his thoughts and feelings tas he watches the fleet sail on, abandoning him to hopelessness and despair. --Nelson]
John Henry Newton (July 24, 1725 – December 21, 1807) was a British sailor and Anglican clergyman. Starting his career at sea, at a young age, he became involved with the slave trade for a few years, and was himself enslaved for a period. After experiencing a religious conversion, he became a minister, hymn-writer, and later a prominent supporter of the abolition of slavery. He was the author of many hymns, including "Amazing Grace" and "Glorious Things of Thee are Spoken (Wikipedia)
Virginia Woolf の "Between the Acts" を読んでたら、
Hark hark the dogs do bark The beggars are coming to town Some in rags and some in jags* And one in a velvet gown.
Virginia Woolf の "The Waves" という小説を読んでいたら、"Far away a bell tolls" という言葉が出てきた。そこには注釈がついていて、John Donne の文章から 来ているとのこと。
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine[Pg 109] own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/23772/23772-h/23772-h.htm
JOHN DONNE DEVOTIONS UPON EMERGENT OCCASIONS
という本の一節だ。ここに出てくる "for whom the bell tolls" という言葉は、Hemingway の小説のタイトルにもなってますね。それにしても、John Donne って、実にたくさんの人に 影響を与えてるみたいですね。
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturniug brave,―alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/23772/23772-h/23772-h.htm
Out of a fired ship, which by no way But drowning could be rescued from the flame, Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay; So all were lost, which in the ship were found, They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.
Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation. What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind. But to what purpose Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves I do not know.
続き Other echoes Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow? Quick, said the bird, find them, find them, Round the corner. Through the first gate, Into our first world, shall we follow The deception of the thrush? Into our first world. There they were, dignified, invisible, Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves, In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air, And the bird called, in response to The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery, And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses Had the look of flowers that are looked at. There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting. So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern, Along the empty alley, into the box circle, To look down into the drained pool. Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged, And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight, And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly, The surface glittered out of heart of light, And they were behind us, reflected in the pool. Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty. Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children, Hidden excitedly, containing laughter. Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind Cannot bear very much reality. Time past and time future What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st. So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. (Sonnet # 18)
劇以外のシェイクスピア詩は、その多くが「ルネッサンスのお世辞文学」(Renaissance Literature of Compliment) の伝統の内部に据えられるべきものである。いつ、誰にあてて、どのような状況で書かれたものか ―― こういう 疑問は読者にとりついて離れない。そしてその疑問のほとんどがついに永遠に解きえぬなぞであるのだから、 シェイクスピアの詩は独特の〈読み〉の緊張を読者に強いることになる。
Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798 Related Poem Content Details
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Five years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur.—Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky. The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore, and view These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! With some uncertain notice, as might seem Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire The Hermit sits alone.
These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind With tranquil restoration:—feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened:—that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on,— Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft— In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart— How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee!
And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, With many recognitions dim and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity, The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope, Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills; when like a roe I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Wherever nature led: more like a man Flying from something that he dreads, than one Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days
No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world with vildest worms to dwell. Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it, for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, you look upon this verse, When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse, But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan, And mock you with me after I am gone.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams Turns mine to wax. And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
>>218 > To be in a passion you good may do, > But no good if a passion is in you. > の句における最初のpassionは「ひとつの苦難・受難の経験」であり > あとのpassionは「激情」であると思う これはどうしてそう思ったのでしょうか？ 受難の経験にいる間は良いけれども、激情に駆られては良くない、と解釈しているのですか・・・？
>>220 > To be in a passion you good may do, > But no good if a passion is in you. ここではお作法として、対句の中で同じpassionという単語を取り巻いて good/no goodの対比と to be in a passion/ a passion is inという徹底して対比した句になっています ここまでの詩で、常に一見かかわりのない苦しむ動物や民衆/天地が避けるという対比の続いてきた詩です もしここだけ、passionを受難/劇情と全く別の意味を表わす言葉遊びに変えてしまうなら、他の対比もすべて意味を変えなくてはなりません この詩はアレゴリカルな詩であって、苦しむ動物と天地の変化はきちんとつながっているロジカルな詩です それは詩の読解の破格が突然ここに現れるという根拠を持っているのか、とお聞きしました
''Want of money and the distress of a thief can never be alleged as the cause of his thieving, for many honest people endure greater hardships with fortitude. We must therefore seek the cause elsewhere than in want of money, for that is the miser's passion, not the thief's.''
From "The Letters of William Blake"
''Men are admitted into Heaven not because they have curbed & governed their passions or have no passions, but because they have cultivated their understandings. The treasures of Heaven are not negations of passion, but realities of intellect, from which all the passions emanate uncurbed in their eternal glory. The fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so holy.''
From "A Vision of the Last Judgement (1810)"
“The Auguries of Innocence” is a series of couplets that most Blake scholars and biographers agree were written in no particular order, but just gathered as such for printing in about 1803, a decade after “Songs of Innocence and Experience.” The interconnecting theme between the collection of couplets is universal interdependence, the principle idea that there exist a correspondence between equivalent entities that lie on completely different planes. Scandinavian mystic and poet Swedenborg was the major influence to this philosophical belief. In other words, there is a wisdom, or vision (“augury”) in seeing the world through two eyes instead of with one eye.
Summary of Auguries of Innocence
The poet proffers the argument that the natural world can be regenerated in time and that nature itself can be an augury to the lost vision of innocence. The phrasing of the title is the strongest example of this theme, for here, the word “innocence” signifies man in the unfallen state.
The first quatrain is where this theme of seeing the world through different means is set forth. The infinite (“Heaven”) can be seen through something that is not human, but still life (“through a Wildflower”). This “wildflower” is a symbol for free love. Heaven is seen though love, the world is seen through the intellect, and the imagination is that which bridges the two. In the same sense, that which is not life nor human, the dehumanized world, is capable of revealing “infinity.” It may be worth noting the famous Blake line from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell: "If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern."
The remainder of the poem is basic imagery, each animal representing a different part of the humanized world. Below is a list of a few of the key associations:
Dog – the beggar Horse – the slave Cock – the soldier Singing – an inward, spiritual possession Lamb’s submission – Jesus’ sacrifice for mankind Bat – human spectre Owl – humankind lost in the darkness, fearing an unknown God Caterpillar – humankind emerging from nature’s womb, the exit from Eden Pass the polar bar – enter a new world Waves – the sea of time and space Emmet and Eagle – perception from close and afar; physical and imaginative perception