迈克尔•德雷顿

在这里你会发现长诗《仙女的法庭》(节选)诗人迈克尔·德雷顿

《仙女的法庭》(节选)

…但让我们暂时离开麦布女王,穿过许多门,跨过许多台阶,她亲爱的小猪正在亲吻;告诉我奥伯伦是怎么过的,他像野兔一样疯了,当他小心翼翼地寻找每一个地方,却发现他的王后不见了。他以可怕的普路托起誓,撕破他的衣服,扯断他的头发,他跑来跑去,向一个橡子杯致意;他很快就抓住麦秆,让麦秆绕着他的头走,任何动物都不退缩,凡遇见的都铺在身上。托斯卡纳诗人歌颂了法国的狂乱的帕拉丁,更古老的诗人歌颂了阿尔西得斯的狂怒,还有其他的阿贾克斯·特拉蒙;但到目前为止,我敢向你保证,没有一个像我们的奥伯伦那样疯癫。第一次遇到黄蜂,苍蝇就把它抱在怀里,仿佛它吐出一口气要抓住它,把它当成小猪:“你这个无赖,我的妻子在哪儿?”他说,“小猪,她来找你了,把她还给我,不然你就把我带走了。”可怜的黄蜂颤抖着,叫道:“奥伯伦,伟大的仙女王,满足你吧,我不是这样的人;我是黄蜂,看我的刺!”仙女听了吓了一跳; When soon away the wasp doth go, Poor wretch was never frighted so, He thought his wings were much too slow, O'erjoy'd they so were parted. He next upon a glow-worm light, (You must suppose it now was night) Which, for her hinder part was bright, He took to be a devil, And furiously doth her assail For carrying fire in her tail; He thrash'd her rough coat with his flail, The mad king fear'd no evil. "Oh!" quoth the glow-worm "hold thy hand, Thou puissant King of Fairy-land, Thy mighty strokes who may withstand? Hold, or of life despair I." Together then herself doth roll, And tumbling down into a hole, She seem'd as black as any coal, Which vext away the fairy. From thence he ran into a hive, Amongst the bees he letteth drive, And down their combs begins to rive, All likely to have spoiled: Which with their wax his face besmear'd, And with their honey daub'd his beard; It would have made a man afear'd, To see how he was moiled. A new adventure him betides: He met an ant, which he bestrides, And post thereon away he rides, Which with his haste doth stumble, And came full over on her snout, Her heels so threw the dirt about, For she by no means could get out, But over him doth tumble. And being in this piteous case, And all beslurried head and face, On runs he in this wildgoose chase; As here and there he rambles, Half-blind, against a mole-hill hit, And for a mountain taking it, For all he was out of his wit, Yet to the top he scrambles. And being gotten to the top, Yet there himself he could not stop, But down on th'other side doth chop, And to the foot came rumbling: So that the grubs therein that bred, Hearing such turmoil overhead, Thought surely they had all been dead, So fearful was the jumbling. And falling down into a lake, Which him up to the neck doth take, His fury it doth somewhat slake, He calleth for a ferry: Where you may some recovery note, What was his club he made his boat, And in his oaken cup doth float, As safe as in a wherry. Men talk of the adventures strange Of Don Quishott, and of their change, Through which he armed oft did range, Of Sancha Pancha's travel: But should a man tell every thing, Done by this frantic fairy king, And them in lofty numbers sing, It well his wits might gravel. ...