我站在威尼斯的叹息桥上;一面是宫殿，一面是监狱:我从海浪中看到她的建筑拔地而起，就像从魔术师的魔杖一挥:千年来，它们阴云密布的翅膀在我周围展开，一种垂死的荣耀在遥远的时代微笑，当许多臣下的土地注视着有翅膀的狮子的大理石堆，在那里威尼斯的地位安全，在她的一百个岛屿上!她看上去就像海上的西布莉，刚从海洋中出来，带着她那高傲的高塔王冠，巍然耸立在空中，她是水和水的力量的统治者。她的女儿们从各国掠夺来的财宝中得到了嫁妆，取之不尽的东方把所有的宝石都倒在她的膝上，闪闪发光。她穿着紫色的衣服被抢去了，君主们参加了她的宴会，认为他们的尊严得到了提高。威尼斯不再有塔索的回声，没有歌声的船夫沉默地划船;她的宫殿坍塌到岸边，音乐也不常在耳边响起:那些日子已逝——但美还在。国家衰亡，艺术衰亡——但大自然不会消亡，也不会忘记威尼斯曾经是多么可爱，它是一切节日的欢乐之地，是人间的狂欢，是意大利的面具!但对我们来说，在她的名字之外，她的故事里有一种魔力，她那一长串强大的影子，在没有狗的城市的消失中摇曳，朦胧的身影令人绝望;我们的战利品不会和里亚托一起腐烂;夏洛克和摩尔人，还有皮埃尔，都不会被扫走，也不会被磨损——拱门的基石!虽然一切都已结束，对我们来说，这就是孤独的海岸。V有思想的人不是粘土做的;从本质上讲，它们是不朽的，它们在我们身上创造和繁殖出更光明的光芒和更可爱的存在。在我们这种受人奴役的状态下，命运不允许我们的生活暗淡无光。 Watering the heart whose early flowers have died, And with a fresher growth replenishing the void.VI Such is the refuge of our youth and age, The first from Hope, the last from Vacancy; And this worn feeling peoples many a page, And, maybe, that which grows beneath mine eye: Yet there are things whose strong reality Outshines our fairy-land; in shape and hues More beautiful than our fantastic sky, And the strange constellations which the Muse O'er her wild universe is skilful to diffuse:VII I saw or dream'd of such--but let them go; They came like truth--and disappear'd like dreams; And whatsoe'er they were--are now but so: I could replace them if I would; still teems My mind with many a form which aptly seems Such as I sought for, and at moments found; Let these too go--for waking Reason deems Such overweening fantasies unsound, And other voices speak, and other sights surround.VIII I've taught me other tongues, and in strange eyes Have made me not a stranger; to the mind Which is itself, no changes bring surprise; Nor is it harsh to make, nor hard to find A country with--ay, or without mankind; Yet was I born where men are proud to be-- Not without cause; and should I leave behind The inviolate island of the sage and free, And seek me out a home by a remoter sea,IX Perhaps I lov'd it well: and should I lay My ashes in a soil which is not mine, My spirit shall resume it--if we may Unbodied choose a sanctuary. I twine My hopes of being remember'd in my line With my land's language: if too fond and far These aspirations in their scope incline, If my fame should be, as my fortunes are, Of hasty growth and blight, and dull Oblivion barX My name from out the temple where the dead Are honour'd by the nations--let it be-- And light the laurels on a loftier head! And be the Spartan's epitaph on me-- "Sparta hath many a worthier son than he." Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted: they have torn me, and I bleed: I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.XI The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord; And annual marriage now no more renew'd, The Bucentaur lies rotting unrestor'd, Neglected garment of her widowhood! St. Mark yet sees his lion where he stood Stand, but in mockery of his wither'd power, Over the proud Place where an Emperor sued, And monarchs gaz'd and envied in the hour When Venice was a queen with an unequall'd dower.XII The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reigns-- An Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt; Kingdoms are shrunk to provinces, and chains Clank over sceptred cities, nations melt From power's high pinnacle, when they have felt The sunshine for a while,