夏日的太阳，它最初的力量，惯于把玛蒂尔达的凉亭涂上金色，用晨光唤醒她，让她作虔诚的祈祷，那早晨的太阳，三次看见罗基比绿上的花朵绽放，却再也看不到美丽的玛蒂尔达淡褐色的眼睛里飞出的睡意;清晨的太阳三次照耀在洛克比的榆树和橡树林间，但从树林的屏障中升起，却没有看见中间灰色的塔楼的一瞥。一堆不定形的东西躺在堡垒和高塔上，它对着晨雨嘶嘶作响，只能用闷烧的雾气来报答夏日的早笑。农夫被他的劳动束缚着，停下脚步，望着那烧焦的土堆，在废墟中努力，每一个记忆深刻的地方都要去追寻。那长而脆弱的、被火烤过的墙，曾经挡住了热情好客的大厅;当那边破碎的拱门完整时， ??他在那里领到了每周的救济金;在你摇摇欲坠的石柱点头的地方，礼拜堂把赞美诗送给了上帝。无论是对上帝的热情，还是对人类的爱，都不能给不朽的纪念碑一个超越时间和命运的日期。塔楼必须分担建造者的厄运;毁灭是他们的，而他的则是坟墓;但是仁慈的天赐给信仰和仁爱更好的恩惠，使基督徒的希望崇高，超越命运和时间的界限。 II. Now the third night of summer came, Since that which witness'd Rokeby's flame. On Brignall cliffs and Scargill brake The owlet's homilies awake, The bittern scream'd from rush and flag, The raven slumber'd on his crag, Forth from his den the otter drew, Grayling and trout their tyrant knew, As between reed and sedge he peers, With fierce round snout and sharpen'd ears Or, prowling by the moonbeam cool, Watches the stream or swims the pool;- Perch'd on his wonted eyrie high, Sleep seal'd the tercelet's wearied eye, That all the day had watch'd so well The cushat dart across the dell. In dubious beam reflected shone That lofty cliff of pale grey stone, Beside whose base the secret cave To rapine late a refuge gave. The crag's wild crest of copse and yew On Greta's breast dark shadows threw; Shadows that met or shunn'd the sight, With every change of fitful light; As hope and fear alternate chase Our course through life's uncertain race. III. Gliding by crag and copsewood green, A solitary form was seen To trace with stealthy pace the wold, Like fox that seeks the midnight fold, And pauses oft, and cowers dismay'd, At every breath that stirs the shade. He passes now the ivy bush, The owl has seen him, and is hush; He passes now the dodder'd oak, Ye heard the startled raven croak; Lower and lower he descends, Rustle the leaves, the brushwood bends; The otter hears him tread the shore, And dives, and is beheld no more; And by the cliff of pale grey stone The midnight wanderer stands alone. Methinks, that by the moon we trace A well-remember'd form and face! That stripling shape, that cheek so pale, Combine to tell a rueful tale, Of powers misused, of passion's force, Of guilt, of grief, and of remorse 'Tis Edmund's eye, at every sound That flings that guilty glance around; 'Tis Edmund's trembling haste divides The brushwood that the cavern hides; And, when its narrow porch lies bare, 'Tis Edmund's form that enters there. IV. His flint and steel have sparkled bright, A lamp hath lent the cavern light. Fearful and quick his eye surveys Each angle of the gloomy maze. Since last he left that stern abode, It seem'd as none its floor had trod; Untouch'd appeared the various spoil, The purchase of his comrades' toil; Masks and disguises grimed with mud, Arms broken and defiled with blood, And all the nameless tools that aid Night-felons in their lawless trade, Upon the gloomy walls were hung, Or lay in nooks obscurely flung. Still on the sordid board appear The relics of the noontide cheer: Flagons and emptied flasks were there, And bench o'erthrown, and shatter'd chair; And all around the semblance show'd, As when the final revel glow'd, When the red sun was setting fast, And parting pledge Guy Denzil past. 'To Rokeby treasure-vaults!' they quaff'd, And shouted loud and wildly laugh'd, Pour'd maddening from the rocky door, And parted-to return no more! They found in Rokeby vaults their doom, A bloody death, a burning tomb! V. There his own peasant dress he spies, Doff'd to assume that quaint disguise; And shuddering thought upon his glee, When prank'd in garb of minstrelsy. '0, be the fatal art accurst,' He cried, 'that moved my folly first;