« 이전계속 »
It slept upon the grateful floor
The ivy felt a tremor shoot
it crept, it pushed, it clombLong had the darkness been its home; But well it knew, though veiled in night, The goodness and the joy of light.
Its clinging roots grew deep and strong;
And in the currents of the air
Its tender branches flourished fair.
It reached the beam-it thrilled-it curledIt blessed the warmth that cheers the world; It rose towards the dungeon bars—
It looked upon the sun and stars.
It felt the life of bursting Spring,
And wooed the swallow to its leaves.
By rains, and dews, and sunshine fed,
Upon that solitary place
Its verdure threw adorning grace:
Wouldst thou know the moral of the rhyme?
To every dungeon comes a ray
La Belle Dame Sans Merci.
Ан, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
The sedge is withered from the lake,
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest 's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a fairy's child; Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long ; For sideways would she lean and sing
A fairy's song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew; And sure in language strange she said, I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighed deep, And there I shut her wild sad eyes
So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss,
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
I saw their starved lips in the gloom
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
Dirge in Cymbeline.
FEAR no more the heat o' the sun,
Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou hast finished joy and moan:
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!