我的周围是三十年的形象:埋伏;水边的朝圣者;一扇经过考验的窗户，半被栅栏遮住，有人把守;格里菲思歇斯底里地骄傲地瞪着眼睛;凯文·奥希金斯的脸上带着一种温柔而疑惑的神情，掩盖不了一颗不愿悔恨和安宁的灵魂;一个革命的战士跪着接受祝福;修道院院长或大主教举起手祝福三色旗。“这不是我年轻时死去的爱尔兰，”我说，“而是诗人想象中的爱尔兰，可怕而欢乐。”突然，我站在一个女人的画像前，以她威尼斯人的方式美丽而温柔。差不多五十年前，我在某个画室里见过她二十分钟。 III Heart-smitten with emotion I Sink down, My heart recovering with covered eyes; Wherever I had looked I had looked upon My permanent or impermanent images: Augusta Gregory's son; her sister's son, Hugh Lane, 'onlie begetter' of all these; Hazel Lavery living and dying, that tale As though some ballad-singer had sung it all; Mancini's portrait of Augusta Gregory, 'Greatest since Rembrandt,' according to John Synge; A great ebullient portrait certainly; But where is the brush that could show anything Of all that pride and that humility? And I am in despair that time may bring Approved patterns of women or of men But not that selfsame excellence again. My mediaeval knees lack health until they bend, But in that woman, in that household where Honour had lived so long, all lacking found. Childless I thought, 'My children may find here Deep-rooted things,' but never foresaw its end, And now that end has come I have not wept; No fox can foul the lair the badger swept -- VI (An image out of Spenser and the common tongue). John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought All that we did, all that we said or sang Must come from contact with the soil, from that Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong. We three alone in modern times had brought Everything down to that sole test again, Dream of the noble and the beggar-man. VII And here's John Synge himself, that rooted man, 'Forgetting human words,' a grave deep face. You that would judge me, do not judge alone This book or that, come to this hallowed place Where my friends' portraits hang and look thereon; Ireland's history in their lineaments trace; Think where man's glory most begins and ends, And say my glory was I had such friends.