你的脸像你母亲的脸，我美丽的孩子!艾达!我的家和我的心唯一的女儿?当我最后一次看见你年轻的蓝眼睛时，它们在微笑，然后我们分别——不像现在，我们带着希望分开。——我猛然醒过来，周围的水翻腾;我要往我所不知道的地方去。但时光已逝，阿尔比恩那渐行渐远的海岸让我的眼睛既悲伤又愉悦。再一次在水面上!再来一次!海浪在我身下奔涌，像一匹认识骑手的骏马。欢迎加入他们的怒吼! Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead! Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on; for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. III In my youth's summer I did sing of One, The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind; Again I seize the theme, then but begun, And bear it with me, as the rushing wind Bears the cloud onwards: in that Tale I find The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears, Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind, O'er which all heavily the journeying years Plod the last sands of life--where not a flower appears. IV Since my young days of passion--joy, or pain-- Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string, And both may jar: it may be, that in vain I would essay as I have sung to sing. Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling; So that it wean me from the weary dream Of selfish grief or gladness--so it fling Forgetfulness around me--it shall seem To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme. V He, who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him; nor below Can love or sorrow, fame, ambition, strife, Cut to his heart again with the keen knife Of silent, sharp endurance: he can tell Why thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife With airy images, and shapes which dwell Still unimpair'd, though old, in the soul's haunted cell. VI 'Tis to create, and in creating live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give The life we image, even as I do now. What am I? Nothing: but not so art thou, Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth, Invisible but gazing, as I glow Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth, And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings' dearth. VII Yet must I think less wildly: I have thought Too long and darkly, till my brain became, In its own eddy boiling and o'er-wrought, A whirling gulf of fantasy and flame: And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame, My springs of life were poison'd. 'Tis too late! Yet am I chang'd; though still enough the same In strength to bear what time cannot abate, And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate. VIII Something too much of this--but now 'tis past, And the spell closes with its silent seal. Long absent HAROLD re-appears at last; He of the breast which fain no more would feel, Wrung with the wounds which kill not, but ne'er heal, Yet Time, who changes all, had alter'd him In soul and aspect as in age: years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb; And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim. IX His had been quaff'd too quickly, and he found The dregs were wormwood; but he fill'd again, And from a purer fount, on holier ground, And deem'd its spring perpetual; but in vain! Still round him clung invisibly a chain Which gall'd for ever, fettering though unseen, And heavy though it clank'd not; worn with pain, Which pin'd although it spoke not, and grew keen, Entering with every step he took through many a scene. X Secure in guarded coldness, he had mix'd Again in fancied safety with his kind, And deem'd his spirit now so firmly fix'd And sheath'd with an invulnerable mind, That, if no joy, no sorrow lurk'd behind; And he, as one, might 'midst the many stand Unheeded, searching through the crowd to find Fit speculation; such as in strange land He found in wonder-works of God and Nature's hand. XI But who can view the ripen'd rose, nor seek To wear it? who can curiously behold The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek, Nor feel the heart can never all grow old? Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold The star which rises o'er her steep, nor climb? Harold, once more within the vortex, roll'd On with the giddy circle, chasing Time, Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's fond prime. XII