【正文】 man. Plac’d on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great: With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, With too much weakness for the Stoic’s pride, He hangs between。 in doubt to act, or rest。 In doubt to deem himself a God, or beast。 In doubt his mind or body to prefer。 Born but to die, and reas’ning but to err。 Alike in ignorance, his reason such, Whether he thinks too little or too much: Chaos of thought and passion, all confus’d。 Still by himself abus’d or disabus’d。 Created half to rise, and half to fall。 15 Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all。 Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl’d: The glory, jest, and riddle of the world! She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be。 But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me! Ge Gordon Byron(17881824) The Isles of Greece THE isles of Greece! the isles of Greece Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, 5 But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero39。s harp, the lover39。s lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse: Their place of birth alone is mute 10 To sounds which echo further west Than your sires39。 39。Islands of the Blest. The mountains look on Marathon— And Marathon looks on the sea。 And musing there an hour alone, 15 I dream39。d that Greece might still be free。 For standing on the Persians39。 grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o39。er seaborn Salamis。 20 And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations。—all were his! He counted them at break of day— And when the sun set, where were they? And where are they? and where art thou, 25 My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now— The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine? 30 39。Tis something in the dearth of fame, Though link39。d among a fetter39。d race, To feel at least a patriot39。s shame, Even as I sing, suffuse my face。 For what is left the poet here? 35 For Greeks a blush—for Greece a tear. Must we but weep o39。er days more blest? Must we but blush?—Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! 40 Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopyl230。! What, silent still? and silent all? Ah! no?！猼he voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent39。s fall, 45 And answer, 39。Let one living head, But one, arise,—we e, we e!39。 39。Tis but the living who are dumb. In vain—in vain: strike other chords。 Fill high the cup with Samian wine! 50 Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, And shed the blood of Scio39。s vine: Hark! rising to the ignoble call— How answers each bold Bacchanal! You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet。 55 Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why fet The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave— Think ye he meant them for a slave? 60 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! We will not think of themes like these! It made Anacreon39。s song divine: He served—but served Polycrates— A tyrant。 but our masters then 65 Were still, at least, our countrymen. The tyrant of the Chersonese Was freedom39。s best and bravest friend。 That tyrant was Miltiades! O that the present hour would lend 70 Another despot of the kind! Such chains as his were sure to bind. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! On Suli39。s rock, and Parga39。s shore, Exists the remnant of a line Such as the Doric mothers bore。 And there, perha