叶芝诗8首

Her Vision in the Wood

Dry timber under that rich foliage，

At wine-dark midnight in the sacred wood，

Too old for a man’s love I stood in rage

Imagining men. Imagining that I could

A greater with a lesser pang assuage

Or but to find if withered vein ran blood，

I tore my body that its wine might cover

Whatever could rccall the lip of lover.

And after that I held my fingers up，

Stared at the wine-dark nail，or dark that ran

Down every withered finger from the top；

But the dark changed to red，and torches shone，

And deafening music shook the leaves；a troop

Shouldered a litter with a wounded man，

Or smote upon the string and to the sound

Sang of the beast that gave the fatal wound.

All stately women moving to a song

With loosened hair or foreheads grief-distraught，

It seemed a Quattrocento painter’s throng，

A thoughtless image of Mantegna’s thought—

Why should they think that are for ever young?

Till suddenly in grief’s contagion caught，

I stared upon his blood-bedabbled breast

And sang my malediction with the rest.

That thing all blood and mire，that beast-torn wreck，

Half turned and fixed a glazing eye on mine，

And，though love’s bitter-sweet had all come back，

Those bodies from a picture or a coin

Nor saw my body fall nor heard it shriek，

Nor knew，drunken with singing as with wine，

That they had brought no fabulous symbol there

But my heart’s victim and its torturer.

A Last Confession

What lively lad most pleasured me

Of all that with me lay?

I answer that I gave my soul

And loved in misery，

But had great pleasure with a lad

That I loved bodily.

Flinging from his arms I laughed

To think his passion such

He fancied that I gave a soul

Did but our bodies touch，

And laughed upon his breast to think

Beast gave beast as much.

I gave what other women gave

That stepped out of their clothes.

But when this soul，its body off，

Naked to naked goes，

He it has found shall find therein

What none other knows，

And give his own and take his own

And rule in his own right；

And though it loved in misery

Close and cling so tight，

There’s not a bird of day that dare

Extinguish that delight.

Meeting

Hidden by old age awhile

In masker’s cloak and hood，

Each hating what the other loved，

Face to face we stood:

‘That I have met with such，’said he，

‘Bodes me little good.’

‘Let others boast their fill，’said I，

‘But never dare to boast

That such as I had such a man

For lover in the past；

Say that of living men I hate

Such a man the most.’

‘A loony’d boast of such a love，’

He in his rage declared:

But such as he for such as me—

Could we both discard

This beggarly habiliment—

Had found a sweeter word.

From the ‘Antigone’

Overcome—O bitter sweetness，

Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl—

The rich man and his affairs，

The fat flocks and the fields’fatness，

Mariners，rough harvesters；

Overcome Gods upon Parnassus；

Overcome the Empyrean；hurl

Heaven and Earth out of their places，

That in the Same calamity

Brother and brother，friend and friend，

Family and family，

City and city may contend，

By that great glory driven wild.

Pray I will and sing I must，

And yet I weep—Oedipus’child

Descends into the loveless dust.

The Gyres

The gyres! The gyres! Old Rocky Face，look forth；

Things thought too long can be no longer thought，

For beauty dies of beauty，worth of worth，

And ancient lineaments are blotted out.

Irrational streams of blood are staining earth；

Empedocles has thrown all things about；

Hector is dead and there’s a light in Troy；

We that look on but laugh in tragic joy.

What matter though numb nightmare ride on top，

And blood and mire the sensitive body stain?

What matter? Heave no sigh，let no tear drop，

A greater，a more gracious time has gone；

For painted forms or boxes of make-up

In ancient tombs I sighed，but not again；

What matter? Out of cavern comes a voice，

And all it knows is that one word‘Rejoice!’

Conduct and work grow coarse，and coarse the soul，

What matter? Those that Rocky Face holds dear，

Lovers of horses and of women，shall，

From marble of a broken sepulchre，

Or dark betwixt the polecat and the owl，

Or any rich，dark nothing disinter

The workman，noble and saint，and all things run

On that unfashionable gyre again.

大抵汉人说诗，都是沿袭以前的旧法，或是传述以前的旧闻，并没有什么创见。即如《诗大序》一篇在文学批评史上较为重要者，亦不过汇萃旧说略加整理而已。汉人称《大序》为子夏所作，宋儒甚有谓《大序》非孔子不能作者，皆由过于重视《大序》之故，实则《大序》中几项重要之点，大率不外袭用周秦旧说。如：

一、明诗乐之关系——“情发于声，声成文谓之音。”——案此与《乐记》相同。《乐记》云：“凡音之起，由人心生也。人心之动，物使之然也。感于物而动，故形于声；声相应故生变，变成方谓之音。”郑《注》云：“方犹文章也。”《乐记》又云：“情动于中故形于声，声成文谓之音。”又《荀子·劝学》篇云“诗者中声之所止也”，亦近此意。

二、明诗之起源——“诗者，志之所之也；在心为志，发言为诗。情动于中而形于言：言之不足，故嗟叹之；嗟叹之不足，故永歌之；永歌之不足，不知手之舞之足之蹈之也。”——案：此言“在心为志，发言为诗”，与《虞书》“诗言志”之意相同；言“嗟叹之不足，故永歌之”，亦即《虞书》“歌永言”之意；不过说得更明畅，而于古代诗、歌、舞三者混合之迹，亦能明其关系而已。又《乐记》云：“故歌之为言也，长言之也。说之故言之；言之不足，故长言之；长言之不足，故嗟叹之；嗟叹之不足，故不知手之舞之、足之蹈之也。”亦与《大序》此语相同。孔《疏》云：“按《诗》先云嗟叹，后云咏歌之，此先云长言之，后云嗟叹之，文先后不同者，何也？《诗序》是属文之体，又略言之；此经委曲说歌之状，其言备具。”是又《乐记》与《大序》可以相互印证之处。又汉初人论《诗》亦多申言志之说。如陆贾《新语·慎微》篇云：“故隐之则为道，布之则为诗。（诗下原有‘文’字，今从俞樾校删。）在心为志，出口为辞。”又贾子《新书·道德说》云：“诗者，志德之理而明其指，令人缘之以自成也。故曰诗志此之志者也。’

三、明诗与时代之关系——“治世之音安以乐，其政和；乱世之音怨以怒，其政乖；亡国之音哀以思，其民困。”——案：此与《乐记》文同。又云：“至于王道衰，礼义废，政教失，国异政，家殊俗，而变《风》、变《雅》作矣。”此等历史的批评，亦本于孔门论世之意，而推阐之。

四、明诗之功用——“故正得失、动天地、感鬼神，莫近于《诗》。先王以是经夫妇、成孝敬、厚人伦、美教化、移风俗。”——案：此节亦与孔子所谓“《诗》可以兴、可以观、可以群、可以怨，迩之事父、远之事君，多识于鸟兽草木之名”（《论语·阳货》）诸语相同，完全以《诗》作为人事上实际的应用。

五、明诗之体类——“故诗有六义焉：一曰风，二曰赋，三曰比，四曰兴，五曰雅，六曰颂。”又云：“是以一国之事系一人之本，谓之风；言天下之事形四方之风，谓之雅；雅者正也，言王政之所由废兴也。政有大小，故有小雅焉，有大雅焉。颂者，美盛德之形容，以其成功告于神明者也。是谓四始，《诗》之至也。”——案六义之说，旧时皆以三经三纬解之，惟章太炎《六诗说》始有异解，谓六义均为辨别韵文之体。窃谓序文之论四始，只举风、雅、颂三者，则旧时三经三纬之说，亦未可非。由三经言，说明《诗》之分类，是归纳的批评；由三纬言，建立文学上的原则，是推理的批评。《大序》中亦惟此意为较值得注意，然而《荀子·儒效》篇已有风、雅、颂之称，则知亦出昔人旧说而已。

此外汉人说诗，都不外本于孟子的方法，而更多流弊。毛《传》于《小弁》一诗引孟子评“固哉高叟之为诗”一节亦可为他说《诗》方法本于孟子之证。他如《韩诗外传》之多方附会，与《说苑·新序》之引用《诗》句以作论证，也都是沿袭孟子之旧法者。

沿袭孟子以意逆志的方法，于是有《诗序》。《诗序》说明诗的本事，亦未尝不是解释的批评；不过诗意本较委曲，而解诗者又委曲求之，则这样的以意逆志，便不免发生绝大的危险。所以齐、鲁、韩、毛四家之说彼此互异，而此等批评便近于武断，近于附会了。

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