文學(xué)專業(yè)外文翻譯---詩歌的原則-文庫吧資料
2025-05-22 01:13本頁面
【正文】 immediately there discover that under the sun there neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignity more supremely noble than this very poem this poem per se this poem which is a poem and nothing more this poem written solely for the poem? sake. With as deep a reverence for the True as ever inspired the bosom of man, I would, nevertheless, limit, in some measure, its modes of inculcation. I would limit to enforce them. I would not enfeeble them by dissipation. The demands of Truth are severe. She has no sympathy with the myrtles. All that which is so indispensable in Song, is precisely all that with hich she has nothing whatever to do. It is but making a flaunting paradox, to wreathe her gems and flowers. In enforcing a truth, we need severity rather than efflorescence of language. We must be simple, precise, terse. We must be cool, calm, unimpassioned. In a word, we must be in that mood which, as nearly as possible, is the exact converse of the poetical. He must be blind, indeed, who does not perceive the radical and chasmal differences between the truthful and the poetical modes of inculcation. He must be theorymad beyond redemption who, in spite of these differences, shall still persist in attempting to reconcile the obstinate oils and waters of Poetry and Truth. Dividing the world of mind into its three most immediately obvious distinctions, , have the Pure Intellect, Taste, and the Moral Sense. I place Taste in the middle, because it is just this position which, in the mind, it occupied. It holds intimate relations with either extreme。 while they breathe an earnestness an evident sincerity of sentiment for which we look in vain throughout all the other works of this author. While the epic mania while the idea that, to merit in poetry, prolixity is indispensable has, for some years past, been gradually dying out of the public mind, by mere dint if its own absurdity we find it succeeded by a heresy too palpably false to be long tolerated, but one which, in the brief period if has already endued, may be said to have acplished more in the corruption of our Poetical Literature than all its other enemies bined. I allude to the heresy of The Didactic. It has been assumed, tacitly and avowedly, directly and indirectly, that the ultimate object of all Poetry is Truth. Even poem, it is said, should inculcate a moral。 And she had unseen pany To make the spirit quail ?Twixt Want and Scorn she walk?d forlorn And nothing could avail. No merey now can clear her brow For this world?s peace to pray。 but, viewlessly Walk?d spirits at her side. Peace charm?d the street beneath her feet, And honor charm?d the air。 but, in general, they have been too imponderous to stamp themselves deeply into aloft only to be whistled down the wind. A remarkable instance of the effect of undue brevity in depressing a poem in keeping it out of the popular view is afforded by the following exquisite little Serenade: I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet of night When the winds are breathing low And the stars are shining bright I arise from dreams of thee And a spirit in my feet Hath led mewho knows how To thy chamberwindow sweet! The wandering airs, they faint On the dark, the silent stream The champak odors f
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