玛丽·沃特利·蒙塔古小姐

在这里你会发现长诗给伯灵顿伯爵的信诗人玛丽·沃特利·蒙塔古夫人的名字

给伯灵顿伯爵的信

你真幸福!追求各种欢乐的人;每一个小时都会给你带来新的东西!六个月来,帕拉第奥的一切艺术,都已在你心中扎根;你谈论柱廊,走廊,盘旋的楼梯和遮蔽的走道;你把命令和维特鲁威式的苦工混在一起,把花里胡气的堆垛堆起,让人高兴得不亦乐道;但那笨工人的手,动作迟缓,却冷冰冰地执行着主人的命令。用泥土和灰泥,你很快就不高兴了。栽种成功,开辟了林荫大道,开凿了沟渠,夷平了山岭,开辟了退路,开辟了阴凉的长廊;修剪过的草皮呈现出生机勃勃的绿色;你用对自然的深入浅出的艺术来修饰——春天看到你在这个设计中感到温暖,但寒冷还没有侵袭你喜爱的树木,你的愿望就落空了,你的愿望就冻结了:你刚刚离开了你仰慕的树林;你的殷切希望被别样的景色所点燃; Post to the city you direct your way; Not blooming paradise could bribe your stay: Ambition shows you power's brightest side, 'Tis meanly poor in solitude to hide: Though certain pains attend the cares of state, A good man owes his country to be great; Should act abroad the high distinguish'd part, Or show at least the purpose of his heart. With thoughts like these the shining courts you seek, Full of new projects for almost a week; You then despise the tinsel-glittering snare, Think vile mankind below a serious care. Life is too short for any distant aim; And cold the dull reward of future fame: Be happy then, while yet you have to live; And love is all the blessing Heav'n can give. Fir'd by new passion you address the fair, Survey the opera as a gay parterre; Young Chloe's bloom had made you certain prize, But for a sidelong glance from Celia's eyes: Your beating heart acknowledges her pow'r; Your eager eyes her lovely form devour; You feel the poison swelling in your breast, And all your soul by fond desire possess'd. In dying sighs a long three hours are past; To some assembly with impatient haste, With trembling hope, and doubtful fear, you move, Resolv'd to tempt your fate, and own your love: But there Belinda meets you on the stairs, Easy her shape, attracting all her airs; A smile she gives, and with a smile can wound; Her melting voice hath music in the sound; Her every motion wears resistless grace; Wit in her mien, and pleasure in her face: Here while you vow eternity of love, Chloe and Celia unregarded move. Thus on the sands of Afric's burning plains, However deeply made, no long impress remains; The slightest leaf can leave its figure there; The strongest form is scatter'd by the air. So yielding the warm temper of your mind, So touch'd by every eye, so toss'd by wind; Oh! how unlike the Heav'n my soul design'd! Unseen, unheard, the throng around me move; Not wishing praise, insensible of love; No whispers soften, nor no beauties fire; Careless I see the dance, and coldly hear the lyre. So num'rous herds are driv'n o'er the rock; No print is left of all the passing flock: So sings the wind around the solid stone; So vainly beat the waves with fruitless moan. Tedious the toil, and great the workman's care, Who dare attempt to fix impressions there: But should some swain, more skilful than the rest, Engrave his name upon this marble breast, Not rolling ages could deface that name; Through all the storms of life 'tis still the same: Though length of years with moss may shade the ground, Deep, though unseen, remains the secret wound.