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the children of the night-第6部分

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Or seems to stop;  till it comes to cheer them

Again with a larger sound。  The curtain

Of life just then is lifted a little

To give to their sight new joys  new sorrows 

Or nothing at all; sometimes。  I was watching

The slow; sweet scenes of a golden picture;

Flushed and alive with a long delusion

That made the murmur of home; when I shuddered

And felt like a knife that awful silence

That comes when the music goes  forever。

The truth came over my life like a darkness

Over a forest where one man wanders;

Worse than alone。  For a time I staggered

And stumbled on with a weak persistence

After the phantom of hope that darted

And dodged like a frightened thing before me;

To quit me at last; and vanish。  Nothing

Was left me then but the curse of living

And bearing through all my days the fever

And thirst of a poisoned love。  Were I stronger;

Or weaker; perhaps my scorn had saved me;

Given me strength to crush my sorrow

With hate for her and the world that praised her 

To have left her; then and there  to have conquered

That old false life with a new and a wiser; 

Such things are easy in words。  You listen;

And frown; I suppose; that I never mention

That beautiful word; FORGIVE!  I forgave her

First of all; and I praised kind Heaven

That I was a brave; clean man to do it;

And then I tried to forget。  Forgiveness!

What does it mean when the one forgiven

Shivers and weeps and clings and kisses

The credulous fool that holds her; and tells him

A thousand things of a good man's mercy;

And then slips off with a laugh and plunges

Back to the sin she has quit for a season;

To tell him that hell and the world are better

For her than a prophet's heaven?  Believe me;

The love that dies ere its flames are wasted

In search of an alien soul is better;

Better by far than the lonely passion

That burns back into the heart that feeds it。

For I loved her still; and the more she mocked me; 

Fooled with her endless pleading promise

Of future faith;  the more I believed her

The penitent thing she seemed; and the stronger

Her choking arms and her small hot kisses

Bound me and burned my brain to pity;

The more she grew to the heavenly creature

That brightened the life I had lost forever。

The truth was gone somehow for the moment;

The curtain fell for a time; and I fancied

We were again like gods together;

Loving again with the old glad rapture。

But scenes like these; too often repeated;

Failed at last; and her guile was wasted。

I made an end of her shrewd caresses

And told her a few straight words。  She took them

Full at their worth  and the farce was over。

     。    。    。    。    。

At first my dreams of the past upheld me;

But they were a short support:  the present

Pushed them away; and I fell。  The mission

Of life (whatever it was) was blasted;

My game was lost。  And I met the winner

Of that foul deal as a sick slave gathers

His painful strength at the sight of his master;

And when he was past I cursed him; fearful

Of that strange chance which makes us mighty

Or mean; or both。  I cursed him and hated

The stones he pressed with his heel; I followed

His easy march with a backward envy;

And cursed myself for the beast within me。

But pride is the master of love; and the vision

Of those old days grew faint and fainter:

The counterfeit wife my mercy sheltered

Was nothing now but a woman;  a woman

Out of my way and out of my nature。

My battle with blinded love was over;

My battle with aching pride beginning。

If I was the loser at first; I wonder

If I am the winner now! 。 。 。  I doubt it。

My life is a losing game; and to…morrow 

To…morrow!  Christ! did I say to…morrow? 。 。 。

Is your brandy good for death? 。 。 。  There;  listen: 



When love goes out; and a man is driven

To shun mankind for the scars that make him

A joke for all chattering tongues; he carries

A double burden。  The woes I suffered

After that hard betrayal made me

Pity; at first; all breathing creatures

On this bewildered earth。  I studied

Their faces and made for myself the story

Of all their scattered lives。  Like brothers

And sisters they seemed to me then; and I nourished

A stranger friendship wrought in my fancy

Between those people and me。  But somehow;

As time went on; there came queer glances

Out of their eyes; and the shame that stung me

Harassed my pride with a crazed impression

That every face in the surging city

Was turned to me; and I saw sly whispers;

Now and then; as I walked and wearied

My wasted life twice over in bearing

With all my sorrow the sorrows of others; 

Till I found myself their fool。  Then I trembled; 

A poor scared thing;  and their prying faces

Told me the ghastly truth:  they were laughing

At me and my fate。  My God; I could feel it 

That laughter!  And then the children caught it;

And I; like a struck dog; crept and listened。

And then when I met the man who had weakened

A woman's love to his own desire;

It seemed to me that all hell were laughing

In fiendish concert!  I was their victim 

And his; and hate's。  And there was the struggle!

As long as the earth we tread holds something

A tortured heart can love; the meaning

Of life is not wholly blurred; but after

The last loved thing in the world has left us;

We know the triumph of hate。  The glory

Of good goes out forever; the beacon

Of sin is the light that leads us downward 

Down to the fiery end。  The road runs

Right through hell; and the souls that follow

The cursed ways where its windings lead them

Suffer enough; I say; to merit

All grace that a God can give。   The fashion

Of our belief is to lift all beings

Born for a life that knows no struggle

In sin's tight snares to eternal glory 

All apart from the branded millions

Who carry through life their faces graven

With sure brute scars that tell the story

Of their foul; fated passions。  Science

Has yet no salve to smooth or soften

The cradle…scars of a tyrant's visage;

No drug to purge from the vital essence

Of souls the sleeping venom。  Virtue

May flower in hell; when its roots are twisted

And wound with the roots of vice; but the stronger

Never is known till there comes that battle

With sin to prove the victor。  Perilous

Things are these demons we call our passions:

Slaves are we of their roving fancies;

Fools of their devilish glee。   You think me;

I know; in this maundering way designing

To lighten the load of my guilt and cast it

Half on the shoulders of God。  But hear me!

I'm partly a man;  for all my weakness; 

If weakness it were to stand and murder

Before men's eyes the man who had murdered

Me; and driven my burning forehead

With horns for the world to laugh at。  Trust me!

And try to believe my words but a portion

Of what God's purpose made me!  The coward

Within me cries for this; and I beg you

Now; as I come to the end; to remember

That women and men are on earth to travel

All on a different road。  Hereafter

The roads may meet。 。 。 。  I trust in something 

I know not what。 。 。 。



                        Well; this was the way of it: 

Stung with the shame and the secret fury

That comes to the man who has thrown his pittance

Of self at a traitor's feet; I wandered

Weeks and weeks in a baffled frenzy;

Till at last the devil spoke。  I heard him;

And laughed at the love that strove to touch me; 

The dead; lost love; and I gripped the demon

Close to my breast; and held him; praising

The fates and the furies that gave me the courage

To follow his wild command。  Forgetful

Of all to come when the work was over; 

There came to me then no stony vision

Of these three hundred days;  I cherished

An awful joy in my brain。  I pondered

And weighed the thing in my mind; and gloried

In life to think that I was to conquer

Death at his own dark door;  and chuckled

To think of it done so cleanly。  One evening

I knew that my time had come。  I shuddered

A little; but rather for doubt than terror;

And followed him;  led by the nameless devil

I worshipped and called my brother。  The city

Shone like a dream that night; the windows

Flashed with a piercing flame; and the pavements

Pulsed and swayed with a warmth  or something

That seemed so then to my feet  and thrilled me

With a quick; dizzy joy; and the women

And men; like marvellous things of magic;

Floated and laughed and sang by my shoulder;

Sent with a wizard motion。  Through it

And over and under it all there sounded

A murmur of life; like bees; and I listened

And laughed again to think of the flower

That grew; blood…red; for me! 。 。 。  This fellow

Was one of the popular sort who flourish

Unruffled where gods would fall。  For a conscience

He carried a snug deceit that made him

The man of the time and the place; whatever

The time or the place might be。  Were he sounding;

With a genial craft that cloaked its purpose;

Nigh to itself
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