繁体
简体


西西里王罗波

凌风 译

 

  西西里王罗波,是教皇乌尔班的弟弟,
  阿勒冥的皇帝华蒙是他的长兄,
  身穿华贵的衣饰,
  带着大群的武士和侍从,
  在圣约翰节日晚祷时,傲然坐着
  听教牧吟唱“尊主颂”。
  当他听着,一遍又一遍的
  重复,仿佛是抑制和担重,
  当听到了:“祂叫有权柄的
  失位,叫卑贱的高升”;
  他慢慢抬起王者尊贵的头
  垂询身边识字的秘书随从:
  “这句话是什么意思?”秘书立即回应:
  “祂使有权能的从高位降卑,
  高举沒有地位的上腾。”
  罗波王鄙夷的低声说:
  “好在这种煽动性的语句
  只由教职人员用拉丁语唱诵;
  让教牧们和人民都知道,
  沒有什么能力推翻我的宝座权柄!”
  靠在椅背上,他打个呵欠,入睡了,
  单调的唱诵使他睡意更浓。

  当他醒转时,已经是夜间,
  空荡荡的教堂,全然沒有光亮,
  只有几盏残灯,发着微弱的火焰,
  照出淡淡的黃晕在圣徒的像旁。
  他从座位上四围环望,
  看不见什么活物,也听不到声响。
  他摸索到门前,但门已经锁上,
  他大声喊叫,听着,再又敲撞,
  发着可怕的恫吓,加上抱怨,
  他咒诅人,也祈求圣徒帮忙。
  如同死去的圣像在那里嘲笑,
  空有回响来自屋顶和牆。

  最后,管教堂的从外面听见
  那喊叫的扰攘和敲门,
  以为是盜贼进入了祷告的殿,
  挑着灯笼来查问:“是什么人?”
  半气结的罗波王盛怒回答:
  “是我,王!你害怕吗?给我开门!”
  管堂的受了惊,自言自语,咒诅着说:
  “是酒醉的流浪汉,或更下等的恶棍!”
  用那把大钥匙猛然把教堂门敞开,
  一条大汉跨大步冲到了他身旁,
  凶悍的,沒有帽子或外衣,赤着臂膀,
  並沒有转身,不睬他,半句话不讲,
  但跳进了漆黑的夜暗里,
  失去了蹤影像幽灵一样。

  西西里王罗波,教皇乌尔班的弟弟,
  他的长兄是阿勒冥的华蒙皇帝,
  被剝去了华贵的衣饰,
  光着头,喘吁吁的,满身污泥,
  暴怒如雷大踏步到了宮门,
  感受侮辱,怒气填胸卻无法可施,
  冲过了庭院,找人发洩
  左右的僮仆和管家执事,
  在火把下照着他苍白的面孔,
  急忙跑上宽阔和回音的楼梯。
  他匆促的穿堂复过室,
  他听到在喊叫发声,卻无人置理,
  最后到达了宴会厅,
  灯烛辉煌,扑鼻的薰香气息。

  厅堂一端高坐着另一位王,
  戴着他御印的戒指,他的王冠和衣裳,
  是罗波王的身材,同样相貌和形状,
  只是全部变化成天使的荣光!
  那是一个天使;他在那里
  到处充满了他神圣的辉煌,
  高贵的气质透过他的形体,
  只是沒有谁能认出是天使的化装。

  那失去宝座的王向天使注视,
  一时惊讶无言,不能夠行动,
  遇到他的忿怒和惊奇,
  目光中带着神圣的怜悯神情;
  他说:“你是谁,竟敢到这里来?”
  換来的是罗波王回答讥讽:
  “我是王,要来收复
  被你这假冒者篡夺的朝廷!”
  这大胆无礼的话,忽然
  使座上客人都跳起来,纷纷拔剑反应;
  那天使连眉头也不皱平靜的说:
  “不,不是王,是王的小丑一名,
  今后要戴上海扇帽,佩着铜铃,
  带一只猿猴作你的参谋随从;
  你要顺服王的仆役使喚,
  服侍我的侍从们在堂前听命!”

  无人管他的恫吓喊叫和祈求,
  他们把他推下楼梯赶出厅堂;
  一群僮仆们窃笑着在前面跑,
  当他们把折门开敞,
  听到了武士们在宏声狂笑,
  他的心下沉了,有奇異的紧张,
  高大的房顶哄起回响,
  嘲弄的恭贺说:“万岁我王!”

  次日清早,第一线曙光使他复醒,
  他自己心里说:“那不过是个梦!”
  当他转头的时候身下的稻草窸窣有声,
  旁边是他的小丑帽子和铜铃,
  周围是沒有装饰褪色的牆壁,
  不远处是群驹在嚼草的马棚,
  在角落里,有个活动的身影,
  是那可怜的猿猴在瑟缩着吱喳作声。
  那不是梦;他所深爱的世界
  已经变作了尘灰,着手成空!

  一天天过去又复再来,
  西西里恢复了上古盛世;
  在天使的统治善政之下
  那快乐的海岛五穀登新酒洋溢,
  在火山灼热的胸膛之下,
  那古老的巨人也恬然安息。

  这样,罗波王也自己安分由命,
  不得安慰,阴郁的沉闷安靜。
  穿着小丑的杂色花衣,
  看来似是迷失,直直无神的眼睛,
  从下巴到耳朵上边刮得淨光像僧,
  忍受着侍从的讥讽僮仆的嘲弄,
  他唯一的朋友是那只猿猴,他的食物
  是別人吃过的残饭剩羹—他仍然不认输定。
  当那天使偶然相遇在途中,
  半认真的对他说话,有一半嘲讽,
  严肃的,卻是轻柔,他觉得似乎是
  天鹅绒的鞘藏着青钢利刃的刀锋:
  “你是王吗?”刺着他的隐痛
  他会忽然迸发难以藏容;
  昂起他的额头,粗率的说:
  “我是,我是王!”傲岸回应。

  大约三年过去了;来了
  特使尊贵又有盛名,
  是阿勒冥皇帝华蒙差来转达
  教皇乌尔班向罗波王发出的邀请,
  那信是要他立即启程
  在圣礼拜四到达他的罗马城。
  那天使对来使盛大欢迎,
  给他们礼物和锦繡外套,
  天鹅绒披肩有华贵的勳衔
  给他们戒指和稀世的珠宝。
  然后同他们一道扬帆启航,
  从海上到了可爱的意大利半岛;
  显赫的行列引得万人瞩目,
  大群的随扈还有马队前导,
  鞍辔屜镫都是镶金嵌玉,
  全都衣冠鲜明还插着彩色羽毛。
  看,在仆从中间,有个可笑的角色
  有一匹杂种跛马蹒跚而行,
  罗波王骑着,外衣缀着狐狸尾飘动随风,
  那猿猴端肃的在驾驭一本正经,
  所经过全国的大小城镇,
  总是有大批来取乐的观众。

  教皇迎接他们以盛壮的声势,
  圣彼得广场上,鸣号又悬挂旌旗。
  为他们祝福又加上拥抱,
  热烈的尽足使徒的恩赐和礼仪。
  他既有颂贺复再祝祷,
  不知不觉的接待了天使。
  小丑罗波,忽然从人丛中冒了出来,
  到他们的面前高声大嚷,
  “我是王!看,认清我本人
  罗波,你的亲兄弟,西西里王!
  你眼前这个人,有我的形相,
  是假冒的王,在装模作样。
  你不认得我?心里岂沒有微声
  答应我的呼求,承认我是骨肉同堂?”
  教皇靜默不言,表现困惑心意搖荡,
  看着天使的面貌是那么安详;
  皇帝笑着说:“真有他的奇风異想,
  把一个狂人当小丑来豢养!”
  可怜的小丑受尽奚落面目无光,
  挤回到人丛里悄然躲藏。

  庄严的受难週来而复往,
  复活节主日清晨露出曙光,
  天使的临在,带着荣美,
  在日出以前把全城照亮,
  新的热诚充满了人的心间,
  觉得基督复活的真实无妄。
  连那个小丑在他稻草的床,
  憔悴的眼看见了荣美非同寻常,
  他觉得里面有种从未经验的能力,
  使他谦卑的跪在床前的地上,
  他听到主急飘的衣裳,
  拂过安靜的空气升上天堂。

  现在访问的时光已过,再一次
  华蒙离去往多瑙河岸的回程,
  那天使也再次踏上归家的路,
  在途中展现他盛壮的扈从,
  经过意大利的城和镇,
  从沙莱诺港出海拔锚启碇。
  再进入泊勒摩的城牆內,
  升上他的宝座在伟大的朝廷,
  听到修院传来祷告的钟声,
  像是更美的世界在与我们交通,
  他招呼罗波王近前来,
  示意屏退其余的人众;
  单独相对的时候,那天使问:
  “你是王吗?”低垂着头,
  罗波王的双手交叉当胸,
  谦恭的回答:“你最知道!
  我的罪如同朱红;让我去
  修院的靜室好好忏悔,
  跪爬在石头上,成为道路能到天庭,
  赤腳行走,直到我负疚的灵魂赦凈!”

  那天使微笑着,从他光辉的脸上
  圣洁的光照亮所有的地方,
  听到邻近的教堂修士们诵唱,
  传进敞开的窗,高越而嘹亮,
  超越街道上市声的喧嚣扰攘:
  “祂叫有权柄的失位,
  叫卑贱的升高!”
  在那诵唱以外有另一个韻律,
  升越像是单絃音在振盪:
  “我是个天使,你是王!

  罗波王,原来站在宝座的左近,
  举目看来,啊!只有他一人!
  所有的衣饰依然如旧,
  荣美的外袍缀玉繡金;
  当宮廷的侍臣来发现他在那里
  跪在地上全心祷告,靜默深沈。

 

King Robert of Sicily

Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,
Apparelled in magificent attire,
With retinue of many a knight and squire,
On St. John's eve, at vespers, proudly sat
And heard the priests chant the Magnificat.
And as he listened, o'er and o'er again
Repeated, like a burden or refrain,
He caught the words,"Deposuit potentes
De sede, et exaltavit humiles
;"
And slowly lifting up his kingly head
He to a learned clerk beside him said,
  "What mean these words?" The clerk made answer meet,
  "He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree."
Thereat King Robert muttered scornfully,
  " 'T is well that such seditious words are sung
Only by priests and in the Latin tongue;
For unto priests and people be it known,
There is no power can push me from my throne!"
And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep,
Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep.

When he awoke, it was already night;
The church was empty, and there was no light,
Save where the lamps, that glimmered few and faint,
Lighted a little space before some saint.
He started from his seat and gazed around,
But saw no living thing and heard no sound.
He groped towards the door, but it was locked;
He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked,
And uttered awful threatenings and complaints,
And imprecations upon men and saints.
The sounds reechoed from the roof and walls
As if dead priests were laughing in their stalls.

At length the sexton, hearing from without
The tumult of the knocking and the shout,
And thinking thieves were in the house of prayer,
Came with his lantern, asking,"Who is there?"
Half choked with rage, King Robert fiercely said:
  "Open:'t is I, the King! Art thou afraid?"
The frightened sexton, muttering, with a curse,
  "This is some drunken vagabond, or worse!"
Turned the great key and flung the portal wide;
And man rushed by him at a single stride,
Haggard, half naked, without hat or cloak,
Who neither turned, nor looked at him, nor spoke,
But leaped into the blackness of the night,
And vanished like a spectre from his sight.

Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,
Despoiled of his magnificent attire,
Bareheaded, breathless, and besprent with mire,
With sense of wrong and outrage desperate,
Strode on and thundered at the palace gate;
Rushed through the courtyard, thrusting in his rage
To right and left each seneschal and page,
And hurried up the broad and sounding stair,
His white face ghastly in the torches' glare.
From hall to hall he passed with breathless speed;
Voices and cries he heard, but did not heed,
Until at last he reached the banquet-room,
Blazed with light, and breathing with perfume.

There on the dais sat another king,
Wearing his robes, his crown, his signet-ring,
King Robert's self in features, form, and height,
But all transfigured with angelic light!
It was an Angel; and his presence there
With a divine effulgence filled the air,
An exaltation, piercing the disguise,
Though none the hidden Angel recognize.

A moment speechless, motionless, amazed,
The throneless monarch on the Angel gazed,
Who met his look of anger and surprise
With the divine compassion of his eyes;
Then said,"Who art thou? and why com'st thou here?"
To which King Robert answered with a sneer,
  "I am the King, and come to claim my own
From an impostor, who usurps my throne!"
And suddenly, at these audacious words,
Up sprang the angry guests, and drew their swords;
The Angel answered, with unruffled brow,
  "Nay, not the King, but the King's Jester, thou
Henceforth shalt wear the bells and scalloped cape,
And for thy counsellor shalt lead an ape;
Thou shalt obey my sevants when they call,
And wait upon my benchmen in the hall!"

Deaf to King Robert's threats and cries and prayers,
They thrust him from the hall and down the stairs;
A group of tittering pages ran before,
And as they opened wide the folding-door,
His heart failed, for he heard, with strange alarms,
The boisterous laughter of the men-at-arms,
And all the vaulted chamber roar and ring
With the mock plaudits of "Long live the King!"

Next morning, waking with the day's first beam,
He said within himself,"It was a dream!"
But the straw rustled as he turned his head,
There were the cap and bells beside his bed,
Around him rose the bare, discolored walls,
Close by, the steeds were champing in their stalls,
And in the corner, a revolting shape,
Shivering and chattering sat the wretched ape.
It was no dream; the world he loved so much
Had turned to dust and ashes at his touch!

Days came and went; and now returned again
To Sicily the old Saturnian reign;
Under the Angel's governance benign
The happy island danced with corn and wine,
And deep within the mountain's burning breast
Enceladus, the giant, was at rest.

Meanwhile King Robert yielded to his fate,
Sullen and silent and disconsolate.
Dressed in the motley garb that Jesters wear,
With look bewildered and a vacant stare,
Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn,
By courtiers mocked, by pages laughed to scorn,
His only friend the ape, his only food
What others left,—he still was unsubdued,
And when the Angel met him on his way,
And half in earnest, half in jest, would say,
Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel
The velvet acabbard held a sword of steel,
  "Art thou the King?" the passion of his woe
Burst from him in resistless overflow,
And, lifting high his forehead, he would fling
The haughty answer back,"I am, I am the King!"

Almost three years were ended; when there came
Ambassadors of great repute and name
From Valmond, Emperor of Allemiane,
Unto King Robert, saying that Pope Urbane
By letter summoned them forthwith to come
On Holy Thursday to his city of Rome.
The Angel with great joy received his guests,
And gave them presents of embroidered vests,
And velvet mantles with rich ermine lined,
And rings and jewels of the rarest kind.
Then he departed with them o'er the sea
Into the lovely land of Italy,
Whose loveliness was more resplendent made
By the mere passing of that cavalcade,
With plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir
Of jewelled bridle and of golden spur.
And lo! among the menials, in mock state,
Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait,
His cloak of fox-tails flapping in the wind,
The solemn ape demurely perched behind,
King Robert rode, making huge merriment
In all the country towns through which they went.

The Pope received them with great pomp and blare
Of bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter's aquare,
Giving his benediction and embrace,
Fervent, and full of apostolic grace.
While with congratulations and with prayers
He entertained the Angel unaweres,
Robert, the Jester, bursting through the crowd,
Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud,
  "I am the King! Look, and behold in me
Robert, your brother, King of Sicily!
This man, who wears my semblance to your eyes,
Is an impostor in a king's disguise.
Do you not know me? does no voice within
Answer my cry, and say we are akin?"
The Pope in silence, but with troubled mien,
Gazed at the Angel's countenance serene;
The Emperor, laughing, said,"It is stange sport
To keep a madman for thy Fool at court!"
And the poor, baffled Jester in disgrace
Was hustled back among the populace.

In solemn state the Holy Week went by,
And Easter Sunday gleamed upon the sky;
The presence of the Angel, with its light,
Before the sun rose, made the city bright,
And with new fervor filled the hearts of men,
Who felt that Christ indeed had risen again.
Even the Jester, on his bed of straw,
With haggard eyes the unwonted splendor saw,
He felt within a power unfelt before,
And, kneeling humbly on his chamber floor,
He heard the rushing garments of the Lord
Sweep through the silent air, ascending heavenward.

And now the visit ending, and once more
Valmond returning to the Danube's shore,
Homeward the Angel journeyed, and again
The land was made resplendent with his train,
Flashing along the towns of Italy
Unto Salerno, and from thence by sea.
And when once more within Palermo's wall,
And, seated on the throne in his great hall,
He heard the Angelus from convent towers,
And if the better world conversed with ours,
He beckoned to King Robert to draw nigher,
And with a gesture bade the rest retire;
When they were alone, the Angel said,
  "Art thou the King?" Then, bowing down his head,
King Robert crossed both hands upon his breast,
And meekly answered him:"Thou knowest best!
My sins as scarlet are; let me go hence,
And in some cloister's school of penitence,
Across those stones, that pave the way to heaven,
Walk barefoot, till my guilty soul be shriven!"

The Angel smiled, and from his radiant face
A holy light illumined all the place,
And through the open window, loud and clear,
They heard the monks chant in the chapel near,
Above the stir and tumult of the street:
  "He has put down the mighty of their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree!"
And through the chant a second melody
Rose like the throbbing of a single string:
  "I am an Angel, and thou art the King!"

King Robert, who who was standing near the throne,
Lifted his eyes, and lo! he was alone!
But all apparelled as in days of old,
With ermined mantle and with cloth of gold;
And when his courtiers came, they found him there
Kneeling upon the floor, absorbed in silent prayer.


Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
American poet and educator

列印本文 Facebook 分享
精彩题目

 

关於翼报 | 支持翼报 | 联络我们 | 欢迎赐稿 | 版权说明 ©2004-2019
天荣基金会 Tian Rong Charity Ltd