“把我的破竖琴拿来，”他说;“我们俩都是残骸，——随你的便，——虽然它所有的清脆的声音都已消逝，它们的回声仍在它周围徘徊;我知道它有一些金弦，但那太长了——太长了!——前。“我看不见它失去光泽的金光，听不见它消失的音色，我颤抖的手指难以长久地握住它的柱子框架;我们都是残骸，——片刻以前，我知道它有几根银弦，“但时间在琴弦上奏出了亘古不变的庄严曲调，我的手指在旧的琴弦上迷路，它们发现了新的和陌生的和弦，——是的!铁弦，——我知道，——我知道，——我们都是很久以前的残骸。“我们俩都是残废，——一对破碎的夫妻，在岁月的伪装下，彼此都很陌生，你们对那使玛丽安流泪的相思的空气有什么看法?唉!相信我，——在雪的胸脯下，心早就可以融化了!“或者你会听到风暴之歌的轰鸣吗?士兵从梦中醒来，命令他面对闪电，当战斗的乌云在雷声中破裂?” Wrecks,-- nought but wrecks!-- the time was when We two were worth a thousand men!" And so the broken harp they bring With pitying smiles that none could blame; Alas there's not a single string Of all that filled the tarnished frame! But see! like children overjoyed, His fingers rambling through the void! "I clasp thee! Ay . . . mine ancient lyre. . . Nay, guide my wandering fingers. . . There! They love to dally with the wire As Isaac played with Esan's hair. . . . Hush! ye shall hear the famous tune That Marina called the Breath of June!" And so they softly gather round: Rapt in his tuneful trance he seems: His fingers move: but not a sound! A silence like the song of dreams. . . . "There! ye have heard the air," he cries, "That brought the tears from Marina's eyes!" Ah, smile not at his fond conceit, Nor deem his fancy wrought in vain; To him the unreal sounds are sweet,-- No discord mars the silent strain Scored on life's latest, starlit page-- The voiceless melody of age. Sweet are the lips of all that sing, When Nature's music breathes unsought, But never yet could voice or string So truly shape our tenderest thought As when by life's decaying fire Our fingers sweep the stringless lyre!