对我说:不要在我最近游荡过的地方，尽管人们长久以来都认为美是无与伦比的;不是在那些向我的心发出叹息的幻影里，而是在梦里，我在现实中或幻想中看到过像你一样的东西;也不是，我见过你，我就徒劳地想要描绘出那些闪烁着光芒的魅力——对那些看不到你的人，我的言语是软弱的;对凝视你的人，他们能说什么语言呢?啊!愿你永远像现在这样，不要辜负你春天的承诺，你的外表同样美丽，内心同样温暖而纯洁，是尘世上没有翅膀的爱的形象，是希望想象不到的纯洁!她现在如此疼爱你的青春，在你身上，每时每刻都在焕发光彩，她肯定看到了她未来岁月的彩虹，在你那天堂般的色彩面前，一切悲伤都消失了。年轻的西方佩里!-这对我有好处，我的年数已经比你多了一倍;我那无爱的眼睛，一动不动地凝视着你，安然地看到你那成熟的美在闪耀;更幸福的是，当所有年轻的心都在流血的时候，我的心却逃脱了你眼中给他们的厄运，他们的爱慕虽然成功，却在爱情最美好的时光里混着痛苦。 Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's, Now brightly bold or beautifully shy, Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells, Glance o'er this page; nor to my verse deny That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh, Could I to thee be ever more than friend: This much, dear maid, accord; nor question why To one so young my strain I would commend, But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend. Such is thy name with this my verse entwin'd; And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrin'd Shall thus be first beheld, forgotten last: My days once number'd, should this homage past Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast, Such is the most my memory may desire; Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less require? CANTO THE FIRST I. Oh, thou, in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth, Muse, formed or fabled at the minstrel's will! Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth, Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred hill: Yet there I've wandered by thy vaunted rill; Yes! sighed o'er Delphi's long-deserted shrine Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still; Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine To grace so plain a tale--this lowly lay of mine. II. Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth, Who ne in virtue's ways did take delight; But spent his days in riot most uncouth, And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night. Ah, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight, Sore given to revel and ungodly glee; Few earthly things found favour in his sight Save concubines and carnal companie, And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree. III. Childe Harold was he hight: --but whence his name And lineage long, it suits me not to say; Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame, And had been glorious in another day: But one sad losel soils a name for aye, However mighty in the olden time; Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay, Nor florid prose, nor honeyed lines of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime. IV. Childe Harold basked him in the noontide sun, Disporting there like any other fly, Nor deemed before his little day was done One blast might chill him into misery. But long ere scarce a third of his passed by, Worse than adversity the Childe befell; He felt the fulness of satiety: Then loathed he in his native land to dwell, Which seemed to him more lone than eremite's sad cell. V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run, Nor made atonement when he did amiss, Had sighed to many, though he loved but one, And that loved one, alas, could ne'er be his. Ah, happy she! to 'scape from him whose kiss Had been pollution unto aught so chaste; Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss, And spoiled her goodly lands to gild his waste, Nor calm domestic peace had ever deigned to taste. VI. And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, And from his fellow bacchanals would flee; 'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, But pride congealed the drop within his e'e: Apart he stalked in joyless reverie, And from his native land resolved to go, And visit scorching climes beyond the sea; With pleasure drugged, he almost longed for woe, And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below. VII. The Childe departed from his father's hall; It was a vast and venerable pile; So old, it seemed only not to fall, Ye