我熄了灯,我开始Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall The crash blent with my sleep, I saw depart Its light, even as I woke, on yonder wall; Over against my bed, there shone a gleam Strange, faint, and mingling also with my dream. It sunk, and I am wrapt in utter gloom; How far is night advanced, and when will day Retinge the dusk and livid air with bloom, And fill this void with warm, creative ray ? Would I could sleep again till, clear and red, Morning shall on the mountain-tops be spread! I'd call my women, but to break their sleep, Because my own is broken, were unjust; They've wrought all day, and well-earned slumbers steep Their labours in forgetfulness, I trust; Let me my feverish watch with patience bear, Thankful that none with me its sufferings share. Yet, Oh, for light ! one ray would tranquilise My nerves, my pulses, more than effort can; I'll draw my curtain and consult the skies: These trembling stars at dead of night look wan, Wild, restless, strange, yet cannot be more drear Than this my couch, shared by a nameless fear. All blackone great cloud, drawn from east to west, Conceals the heavens, but there are lights below; Torches burn in Jerusalem, and cast On yonder stony mount a lurid glow. I see men stationed there, and gleaming spears; A sound, too, from afar, invades my ears. Dull, measured, strokes of axe and hammer ring From street to street, not loud, but through the night Distinctly heardand some strange spectral thing Is now uprearedand, fixed against the light Of the pale lamps; defined upon that sky, It stands up like a column, straight and high. I see it allI know the dusky sign A cross on Calvary, which Jews uprear While Romans watch; and when the dawn shall shine Pilate, to judge the victim will appear, Pass sentenceyield him up to crucify; And on that cross the spotless Christ must die. Dreams, then, are truefor thus my vision ran; Surely some oracle has been with me, The gods have chosen me to reveal their plan, To warn an unjust judge of destiny: I, slumbering, heard and saw; awake I know, Christ's coming death, and Pilate's life of woe. I do not weep for Pilatewho could prove Regret for him whose cold and crushing sway No prayer can soften, no appeal can move; Who tramples hearts as others trample clay, Yet with a faltering, an uncertain tread, That might stir up reprisal in the dead. Forced to sit by his side and see his deeds; Forced to behold that visage, hour by hour, In whose gaunt lines, the abhorrent gazer reads A triple lust of gold, and blood, and power; A soul whom motives, fierce, yet abject, urge Rome's servile slave, and Judah's tyrant scourge. How can I love, or mourn, or pity him ? I, who so long my fettered hands have wrung; I, who for grief have wept my eye-sight dim; Because, while life for me was bright and young, He robbed my youthhe quenched my life's fair ray He crushed my mind, and did my freedom slay. And at this houralthough I be his wife He has no more of tenderness from me Than any other wretch of guilty life; Less, for I know his household privacy I see him as he iswithout a screen; And, by the gods, my soul abhors his mien ! Has he not sought my presence, dyed in blood Innocent, righteous blood, shed shamelessly ? And have I not his red salute withstood ? Aye,when, as erst, he plunged all Galilee In dark bereavementin affliction sore, Mingling their very offerings with their gore. Then came hein his eyes a serpent-smile, Upon his lips some false, endearing word, And, through the streets of Salem, clanged the while, His slaughtering, hacking, sacrilegious sword And I, to see a man cause men such woe, Trembled with ireI did not fear to show. And now, the envious Jewish priests have brought Jesuswhom they in mockery call their king To have, by this grim power, their vengeance wrought; By this mean reptile, innocence to sting. Oh ! could I but the purposed doom avert, And shield the blameless head from cruel hurt! Accessible is Pilate's heart to fear, Omens will shake his soul, like autumn leaf; Could he this night's appalling vision hear, This just man's bonds were loosed, his life were safe, Unless that bitter priesthood should prevail, And make even terror to their malice quail. Yet if I tell the dreambut let me pause. What dream ? Erewhile the characters were clear, Graved on my brainat once some unknown cause Has dimmed and rased the thoughts, which now appear, Like a vague remnant of some by-past scene; Not what will be,