按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Transported me on wings of song；
And by the northern shores of France
Bore me with restless speed along。
What land is this that seems to be
A mingling of the land and sea？
This land of sluices； dikes； and dunes？
This water…net； that tessellates
The landscape？ this unending maze
Of gardens； through whose latticed gates
The imprisoned pinks and tulips gaze；
Where in long summer afternoons
The sunshine； softened by the haze；
Comes streaming down as through a screen；
Where over fields and pastures green
The painted ships float high in air；
And over all and everywhere
The sails of windmills sink and soar
Like wings of sea…gulls on the shore？
What land is this？ Yon pretty town
Is Delft； with all its wares displayed；
The pride； the market…place； the crown
And centre of the Potter's trade。
See！ every house and room is bright
With glimmers of reflected light
From plates that on the dresser shine；
Flagons to foam with Flemish beer；
Or sparkle with the Rhenish wine；
And pilgrim flasks with fleurs…de…lis；
And ships upon a rolling sea；
And tankards pewter topped； and queer
With comic mask and musketeer！
Each hospitable chimney smiles
A welcome from its painted tiles；
The parlor walls； the chamber floors；
The stairways and the corridors；
The borders of the garden walks；
Are beautiful with fadeless flowers；
That never droop in winds or showers；
And never wither on their stalks。
Turn； turn； my wheel！ All life is brief；
What now is bud wilt soon be leaf；
What now is leaf will soon decay；
The wind blows east； the wind blows west；
The blue eyes in the robin's nest
Will soon have wings and beak and breast；
And flutter and fly away。
Now southward through the air I glide；
The song my only pursuivant；
And see across the landscape wide
The blue Charente； upon whose tide
The belfries and the spires of Saintes
Ripple and rock from side to side；
As； when an earthquake rends its walls；
A crumbling city reels and falls。
Who is it in the suburbs here；
This Potter； working with such cheer；
In this mean house； this mean attire；
His manly features bronzed with fire；
Whose figulines and rustic wares
Scarce find him bread from day to day？
This madman； as the people say；
Who breaks his tables and his chairs
To feed his furnace fires； nor cares
Who goes unfed if they are fed；
Nor who may live if they are dead？
This alchemist with hollow cheeks
And sunken； searching eyes； who seeks；
By mingled earths and ores combined
With potency of fire； to find
Some new enamel； hard and bright；
His dream； his passion； his delight？
O Palissy！ within thy breast
Burned the hot fever of unrest；
Thine was the prophets vision； thine
The exultation； the divine
Insanity of noble minds；
That never falters nor abates；
But labors and endures and waits；
Till all that it foresees it finds；
Or what it cannot find creates！
Turn； turn； my wheel！ This earthen jar
A touch can make； a touch can mar；
And shall it to the Potter say；
What makest thou。 Thou hast no hand？
As men who think to understand
A world by their Creator planned；
Who wiser is than they。
Still guided by the dreamy song；
As in a trance I float along
Above the Pyrenean chain；
Above the fields and farms of Spain；
Above the bright Majorcan isle；
That lends its softened name to art；
A spot； a dot upon the chart；
Whose little towns； red…roofed with tile；
Are ruby…lustred with the light
Of blazing furnaces by night；
And crowned by day with wreaths of smoke。
Then eastward； wafted in my flight
On my enchanter's magic cloak；
I sail across the Tyrrhene Sea
Into the land of Italy；
And o'er the windy Apennines；
Mantled and musical with pines。
The palaces； the princely halls；
The doors of houses and the walls
Of churches and of belfry towers；
Cloister and castle； street and mart；
Are garlanded and gay with flowers
That blossom in the fields of art。
Here Gubbio's workshops gleam and glow
With brilliant； iridescent dyes；
The dazzling whiteness of the snow；
The cobalt blue of summer skies；
And vase and scutcheon； cup and plate；
In perfect finish emulate
Faenza； Florence； Pesaro。
Forth from Urbino's gate there came
A youth with the angelic name
Of Raphael； in form and face
Himself angelic； and divine
In arts of color and design。
From him Francesco Xanto caught
Something of his transcendent grace；
And into fictile fabrics wrought
Suggestions of the master's thought。
Nor less Maestro Giorgio shines
With madre…perl and golden lines
Of arabesques； and interweaves
His birds and fruits and flowers and leaves
About some landscape； shaded brown；
With olive tints on rock and town。
Behold this cup within whose bowl；
Upon a ground of deepest blue
With yellow…lustred stars o'erlaid；
Colors of every tint and hue
Mingle in one harmonious whole！
With large blue eyes and steadfast gaze；
Her yellow hair in net and braid；
Necklace and ear…rings all ablaze
With golden lustre o'er the glaze；
A woman's portrait； on the scroll；
Cana； the Beautiful！ A name
Forgotten save for such brief fame
As this memorial can bestow；
A gift some lover long ago
Gave with his heart to this fair dame。
A nobler title to renown
Is thine； O pleasant Tuscan town；
Seated beside the Arno's stream；
For Lucca della Robbia there
Created forms so wondrous fair；
They made thy sovereignty supreme。
These choristers with lips of stone；
Whose music is not heard； but seen；
Still chant； as from their organ…screen；
Their Maker's praise； nor these alone；
But the more fragile forms of clay；
Hardly less beautiful than they；
These saints and angels that adorn
The walls of hospitals； and tell
The story of good deeds so well
That poverty seems less forlorn；
And life more like a holiday。
Here in this old neglected church；
That long eludes the traveller's search；
Lies the dead bishop on his tomb；
Earth upon earth he slumbering lies；
Life…like and death…like in the gloom；
Garlands of fruit and flowers in bloom
And foliage deck his resting place；
A shadow in the sightless eyes；
A pallor on the patient face；
Made perfect by the furnace heat；
All earthly passions and desires
Burnt out by purgatorial fires；
Seeming to say； 〃Our years are fleet；
And to the weary death is sweet。〃
But the most wonderful of all
The ornaments on tomb or wall
That grace the fair Ausonian shores
Are those the faithful earth restores；
Near some Apulian town concealed；
In vineyard or in harvest field；
Vases and urns and bas…reliefs；
Memorials of forgotten griefs；
Or records of heroic deeds
Of demigods and mighty chiefs：
Figures that almost move and speak；
And； buried amid mould and weeds；
Still in their attitudes attest
The presence of the graceful Greek；
Achilles in his armor dressed；
Alcides with the Cretan bull；