【正文】 to the friendly aids That smooth the path of honour。 brotherhood, And friendliness the nurse of mutual good. The hearty grasp that sends a pleasant son Into the brain ere one can think upon it。 The silence when some rhymes are ing out。 And when they39。re e, the very pleasant rout: The message certain to be done tomorrow. 39。Tis perhaps as well that it should be to borrow Some precious book from out its snug retreat, To cluster round it when we next shall meet. Scarce can I scribble on。 for lovely airs Are fluttering round the room like doves in pairs。 Many delights of that glad day recalling, When first my senses caught their tender falling. And with these airs e forms of elegance Stooping their shoulders o39。er a horse39。s prance, Careless, and grandfingers soft and round Parting luxuriant curls。and the swift bound Of Bacchus from his chariot, when his eye Made Ariadne39。s cheek look blushingly. Thus I remember all the pleasant flow Of words at opening a portfolio. Things such as these are ever harbingers To trains of peaceful images: the stirs Of a swan39。s neck unseen among the rushes: A lin starting all about the bushes: A butterfly, with golden wings broad parted, Nestling a rose, convuls39。d as though it smarted With over pleasuremany, many more, Might I indulge at large in all my store Of luxuries: yet I must not fet Sleep, quiet with his poppy coro: For what there may be worthy in these rhymes I partly owe to him: and thus, the chimes Of friendly voices had just given place To as sweet a silence, when I 39。gan retrace The pleasant day, upon a couch at ease. It was a poet39。s house who keeps the keys Of pleasure39。s temple. Round about were hung The glorious features of the bards who sung In other agescold and sacred busts Smiled at each other. Happy he who trusts To clear Futurity his darling fame! Then there were fauns and satyrs taking aim At swelling apples with a frisky leap And reaching fingers, 39。mid a luscious heap Of vine leaves. Then there rose to view a fane Of liny marble, and thereto a train Of nymphs approaching fairly o39。er the sward: One, loveliest, holding her white band toward The dazzling sunrise: two sisters sweet Bending their graceful figures till they meet Over the trippings of a little child: And some are hearing, eagerly, the wild Thrilling liquidity of dewy piping. See, in another picture, nymphs are wiping Cherishingly Diana39。s timorous limbs。 A fold of lawny mantle dabbling swims At the bath39。s edge, and keeps a gentle motion With the subsiding crystal: as when ocean Heaves calmly its broad swelling smoothiness o39。er Its rocky marge, and balances once more The patient weeds。 that now unshent by foam Feel all about their undulating home. Sappho39。s meek head was there half smiling down At nothing。 just as though the earnest frown Of over thinking had that moment gone From off her brow, and left her all alone. Great Alfred39。s too, with anxious, pitying eyes, As if he always listened to the sighs Of the goaded world。 and Kosciusko39。s worn By horrid suffrancemightily forlorn. Petrarch, outstepping from the shady green, Starts at the sight of Laura。 nor can wean His eyes from her sweet face. Most happy they! For over them was seen a free display Of outspread wings, and from between them shone The face of Poesy: from off her throne She overlook39。d things that I scarce could tell. The very sense of where I was might well Keep Sleep aloof: but more than that there came Thought after thought to nourish up the flame Within my breast。 so that the morning light Surprised me even from a sleepless night。 And up I rose refresh39。d, and glad, and gay, Resolving to begin that very day These lines。 and howsoever they be done, I leave them as a father does his son. Ode to a Nightingale《 夜鶯頌 》 My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethewards had sunk: 39。Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thy happiness, That thou, lightwinged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in fullthroated ease. O for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cooled a long age in the deepdelved earth, Tasting of Flora and the countrygreen, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth. O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim And purplestained mouth。 That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim. Fade far away, dissolve, and quite fet What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan。 Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectrethin, and dies。 Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leadeneyed despairs。 Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond tomorrow. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the QueenMoon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry Fays。 But here there is no light Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruittree wild。 White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine。 Fastfading violets covere