外文翻譯 外文文獻(xiàn) 英文文獻(xiàn) 詩(shī)歌的原則

The Poetical PrincipleIN SPEAKING of the Poetical Principle，I have no design to be either thorough or profound.While discussing, very much at random, the essentiality of what we call Poetical, my principle purpose will be to cite for consideration, some few of those minor English or American poems which best suit my own taste, or which, upon my own fancy, have left the most definite impression. By “minor poems” I mean, of course, poems of little length. And here, in the beginning, permit me to say a few words in regard to a somewhat peculiar principle, which, whether rightful or wrongfully, has always had it influence in my own critical estimate of the poem. I hold that a long poem does not exist. I maintain that the phrase, “a long poem,” is simple a flat contradiction in terms.I need scarcely observe that a poem deserves its title only inasmuch as it excites, by elevating the soul. The value of the poem is the ratio of this elevating excitement. But all excitement are, through a psychal necessity, transient. The degree of excitement which would entitle a poem to be so called at all, cannot be sustained throughout a composition of any great length. After the lapse of half an hour, at the very utmost, it flags - fails - a revulsion ensues - and then the poem is, in effect, and in fact, no longer such.There are, no doubt, many who have found difficult in reconciling the critical dictum that the “Paradise Lost” is to be devoutly admired throughout, with the absolute impossibility for maintaining for it, during perusal, the amount of enthusiasm which that critical dictum would demand. This great work, in fact, is to be regarded poetical, only when, losing sight of that vital requisite in all works of Art, Unity, we view it merely as a series of minor poems. If, to preserve its Unity - its totality of effect or impression - we read it(as would be necessary) at a single sitting, the result is but a constant alternation of excitement and depression. After a passage of what we feel to be true poetry, there follows, inevitably, a passage of platitude which no critical pre-judgment can force us to admire; but if , upon completing the work, we read it again; omitting the first work-that is to say, commencing with second - we shall be surprised at now finding that admirable which we before condemned - the damnable which we had previously so much admired. It follows from all this that the ultimate, aggregate, or absolute effect of even the best epic under the sun, is a nullity: - band this precisely the fact.In regard to the Iliad, we have, if not possible proof, at least very good reason, for it intended as a series of lyrics; but, granting the epic intention, I can say only that the work is based in an imperfect sense of art. The modern epic is, of the suppositious ancient model, but an inconsiderate and blindfold imitation. But the day of these anomalies is over. If , at any time, any very long poem were popular reality, which I doubt, it is at least clear that no very long poem will ever be popular again.That extent of a poetical work is, ceteris paribus, the measure of its merit, seems undoubted, when we thus state it, a proposition sufficiently absurd - yet we are indebted for it to the Quarterly Reviews. Surely there can be nothing in mere size, abstractly considered - there can be nothing in bulk, so far as a volume is concerned, which had so continuously elicited admiration from these saturnine pamphlets! A mountain, to be sure, by the mere sentiment of physical magnitude which it conveys, does impress us with a sense of the sublime - but no man is impressed after this fashion by material grandeur of even “The Columbiad.” Even the Quarterlies have not instructed us to be so impressed by it. As yet, they have not insisted on our estimating Lamartine by the cubic foot, or Pollok by the pound - but what else are we to infer from their continual prating about “sustained effort?” If, by “sustained effort,” any little gentlemen has accomplished an epic, let us frankly commend him for the effort - if this indeed be a thing commendable - but let us forbear praising the epic on the efforts account. It is to be hoped that common sense, in the time to come, will prefer deciding upon a work of art, rather by the impression it makes, by the amount of “sustained effort” which had been found necessary in effecting the impression. The fact is, that perseverance is one thing, and genius quite anther - nor can all the Quarterlies in Christendom confound them. By and-by, this proposition, with many which I have been just urging, will be received as self-evident. In the meantime, by being generally condemned as falsities, they will not be essentially damaged as truths.On the other hand, it is clear that a poem may be improperly brief. Undue brevity degenerates into mere epigrammatism. A very short poem, while now and then producing a brilliant or vivid, never produces a profound or enduring effect. There must be the steady pressing down of the stamp upon the wax. De Beranger has wrought innumerable things, pungent and spirit-stirring; but, in general, they have been too imponderous to stamp themselves deeply into aloft only to be whistled down the wind.A remarkable instance of the effect of undue brevity in depressing a poem - in keeping it out of the popular view - is afforded by the following exquisite little Serenade:I arise from dreams of theeIn the first sweet of nightWhen the winds are breathing lowAnd the stars are shining brightI arise from dreams of theeAnd a spirit in my feetHath led me-who knows howTo thy chamber-window sweet!The wandering airs, they faintOn the dark, the silent stream-The champak odors failLike sweet thoughts in a dream;The nightingales complaint,It dies upon her heart,As I must die on thine,O, beloved as thou art!O, lift me from the grass!I die, I faint, I fail!Let thy love in kisses rainOn my lips and eyelids pale.My cheek is cold and white, alas!My heart beats loud and fast:Oh! Press it close to thine again,Where it will break at last!Very few, perhaps, are familiar with these lines - yet no less a poet than Shelly is their author. Their warm, yet delicate and ethereal imagination will be appreciated by all - but by none so thoroughly as by him who has himself arisen from sweet dreams of one beloved to bathe in the aromatic air of a southern midsummer night.One of the finest poems by Willis - the very best, in my opinion, which he has ever written - has, no doubt, through this same defect of undue brevity, been kept back from its proper position, not less in the critical than in the popular view.The shadows lay along BroadwayTwas near the twilight-tide-And slowly there a lady fairWas walking in her pride.Alone walkd she; but, viewlesslyWalkd spirits at her side.Peace charmd the street beneath her feet,And honor charmd the air;And all astir looked kind on her,And calld her good and fair-For all God ever gave to herShe kept with chary care.She kept with care her beauties rareFrom lovers warm and true-For her heart was cold to all but gold,And the rich came not to woo-But honor d well are charms to sell,If priests the selling do.Now walking there was one more fair-A slight girl, lily-pale;And she had unseen companyTo make the spirit quail-Twixt Want and Scorn she walkd forlornAnd nothing could avail.No merey now can clear her browFor this worlds peace to pray;For, as loves wild prayer dissolved in air,Her womans heart gave way! -But the sin forgive by Christ in HeavenBy man is cursed always!In this composition we find it difficult to recognize the Willis who has written so many mere “verse of society.” The lines are not only richly ideal, but full of energy; while they breathe an earnestness - an evident sincerity of sentiment - for which we look in vain throughout all the other works of this author.While the epic mania - while the idea that, to merit in poetry, prolixity is indispensable - has, for some years past, been gradually dying out of the public mind, by mere dint if its own absurdity - we find it succeeded by a heresy too palpably false to be long tolerated, but one which, in the brief period if has already endued, may be said to have accomplished more in the corruption of our Poetical Literature than all its other enemies combined. I allude to the heresy of The Didactic. It has been assumed, tacitly and avowedly, directly and indirectly, that the ultimate object of all Poetry is Truth. Even poem, it is said, should inculcate a moral; and by this moral is the poetical merit if the work to be adjudged. We American especially have patronized this happy idea; and we Bostonians, very especially have developed it in full. We have taken it into our heads that to write a poem simply for the poem sake, and to acknowledge such to have been our design, would be to confess ourselves radically wanting in the true Poetic dignity and force: - but the simple fact is, that, would we but permit ourselves to look into our own souls, we should immediately there discover that under the sun there neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignity - more supremely noble than this very poem - this poem per se - this poem which is a poem and nothing more - this poem written solely for the poem sake.With as deep a reverence for the True as ever inspired the bosom of man, I would, nevertheless, limit, in some measure, its modes of inculcation. I would limit to enforce them. I would not enfeeble them by dissipation. The demands of Truth are severe. She has no sympathy with the myrtles. All that which is so indispensable in Song, is precisely all that with hich she has nothing whatever to do. It is but making a flaunting paradox, to wreathe her gems and flowers. In enforcing a truth, we need severity rather than efflorescence of language. We must be simple, precise, terse. We must be cool, calm, unimpassioned. In a word, we must be in that mood which, as nearly as possible, is the exact converse of the poetical. He must be blind, indeed, who does not perceive the radical and chasmal differences between the truthful and the poetical modes of inculcation. He must be theory-mad beyond redemption who, in spite of these differences, shall still persist in attempting to reconcile the obstinate oils and waters of Poetry and Truth.Dividing the world of mind into its three most immediately obvious distinctions, , have the Pure Intellect, Taste, and the Moral Sense. I place Taste in the middle, because it is just this position which, in the mind, it occupied. It holds intimate relations with either extreme; but from the Moral Sense is separated by so faint a difference that Aristotle has not hesitated to place some of operations among the virtues themselves. Nevertheless, we find the offices of the trio marked with a sufficient distinction. Just as the Intellect concerns itself with Truth, so Taste informs us of the Beautiful while the Moral Sense is regardful of duty. Of this latter, while Conscience teaches the obligation, and Reason the expediency, Taste contents herself with displaying - her disproportion - her animosity to the fitting, to the appropriate, to the harmonious- in a word, to Beauty.詩(shī)歌的原則說(shuō)起詩(shī)歌的原則，我并不打算說(shuō)的很全面透徹。對(duì)于詩(shī)歌的本質(zhì)問(wèn)題，我只是很隨意的談?wù)劊业闹饕康氖橇信e一些我喜歡的或是我記得很清楚的短詩(shī)作為參考的內(nèi)容。我所說(shuō)的短詩(shī)，當(dāng)然還是有點(diǎn)長(zhǎng)的。在文章的開(kāi)始，對(duì)于詩(shī)歌，我想說(shuō)一些特別的原則，不管對(duì)錯(cuò)與否，它們對(duì)于我的詩(shī)歌評(píng)價(jià)總會(huì)產(chǎn)生影響。我個(gè)人覺(jué)得長(zhǎng)詩(shī)是不存在的，它只不過(guò)是詞條中具有矛盾性的詞而已。想都不用想，每首詩(shī)都有它的題目，只是因?yàn)樗芷鸬郊?lì)作用，可以提高人的自身修養(yǎng)。詩(shī)的價(jià)值是通過(guò)不斷提升的激勵(lì)作用來(lái)體現(xiàn)的，但從心理需求來(lái)看，這種刺激是短暫的，并不是說(shuō)通過(guò)冗長(zhǎng)的詩(shī)就能使這種刺激可以一直持續(xù)下去。我們可以看到，半個(gè)小時(shí)過(guò)去后，這種刺激就會(huì)消失無(wú)影，隨之而來(lái)的卻是對(duì)冗長(zhǎng)的詩(shī)歌產(chǎn)生的反感。所以，事實(shí)可以說(shuō)明詩(shī)歌不需要太長(zhǎng)。毫無(wú)疑問(wèn)，失樂(lè)園這本小說(shuō)得到一些人的肯定和欣賞，然而另一些人對(duì)此做出強(qiáng)烈的反對(duì)，為此許多人想緩和一點(diǎn)言辭激烈的持有反對(duì)觀點(diǎn)的評(píng)論宣言，可是覺(jué)得這做起來(lái)相當(dāng)困難。然而認(rèn)真讀了評(píng)論宣言后，會(huì)覺(jué)得評(píng)論家所具有的這種熱情正是評(píng)論宣言所需要的。失樂(lè)園這部偉大的作品極富有詩(shī)意，只有對(duì)所有著作都沒(méi)有考慮到詩(shī)歌整體性這一必要特征時(shí)，我們會(huì)覺(jué)得這只不過(guò)是一系列的短詩(shī)而已。如果為了保留整體性-效果上的或印象上的整體性，作為需要，我們讀了一段時(shí)間，其結(jié)果會(huì)是我們不斷地在興奮和壓抑之間徘徊。在我們看來(lái)，一首真正的詩(shī)，不可避免的會(huì)遵循舊的模式，在這種情況中，我們不必忍受預(yù)先的評(píng)論壓力去贊美一部作品。但是一旦我們完成了一部創(chuàng)作，當(dāng)我們?cè)俅巫x它時(shí)，會(huì)直接讀修訂版而不是原稿，在讀的過(guò)程中我們會(huì)驚訝地發(fā)現(xiàn)：以前推崇備至的內(nèi)容如今卻讓人嗤之以鼻；反過(guò)來(lái)，以前令人嗤之以鼻的內(nèi)容而今卻備受推崇，這是經(jīng)過(guò)不斷地總結(jié)得出來(lái)的，而那種具有重要，全面，絕對(duì)影響，堪稱是世上最好的史詩(shī)，它是不存在的-這就是毫無(wú)爭(zhēng)議的事實(shí)。關(guān)于伊里亞特這部史詩(shī)，盡管我們沒(méi)有充足的資料，也有很好的理由讓人相信它是一部抒情詩(shī)集。但是從詩(shī)歌的目的來(lái)考慮，我只能說(shuō)這部詩(shī)集并不是建立在完美的藝術(shù)感上?，F(xiàn)代史詩(shī)是通過(guò)對(duì)舊體史詩(shī)的加以想象而發(fā)展而來(lái)的，但實(shí)際上它只不過(guò)是對(duì)舊體史詩(shī)不加考慮地一味盲目模仿后的產(chǎn)物，這種文學(xué)病態(tài)會(huì)有消亡的那天。如果說(shuō)長(zhǎng)詩(shī)在任何時(shí)候都備受歡迎，這個(gè)推論值得我懷疑，至少有一點(diǎn)很清楚是長(zhǎng)詩(shī)不會(huì)再掀起浪潮。在條件不變的情況下，鑒賞一部詩(shī)歌作品就是研究它的特點(diǎn)，這是無(wú)可厚非的。當(dāng)我們認(rèn)為這個(gè)觀點(diǎn)十分荒謬，雖然如此，我們?nèi)匀灰屑ぜ究u(píng)論提出這個(gè)觀點(diǎn)。當(dāng)然，就詩(shī)歌篇幅這點(diǎn)而言，它是毫無(wú)意義的，但那些帶有諷刺意味的小冊(cè)子卻讓人頓生敬意?？梢哉f(shuō)，人們會(huì)因?yàn)樯椒宓母呗柖a(chǎn)生敬畏之情，但決沒(méi)有人會(huì)因?yàn)楦鐐惐葋喌逻@部愛(ài)國(guó)詩(shī)的冗長(zhǎng)的篇幅而感動(dòng)，季刊也不會(huì)引導(dǎo)我們?yōu)檫@種情況而感動(dòng)。同樣如此，我們不會(huì)用立方英尺來(lái)衡量偉大的詩(shī)人拉馬丁，也不會(huì)用英鎊來(lái)衡量偉大的詩(shī)人波羅克。但是從他們對(duì)“持之以恒的努力”總是喋喋不休來(lái)看，我們這些人又算什么呢？如果單談“持之以恒的努力”這一方面，任何有丁點(diǎn)知識(shí)的人都可以寫出一首宏篇史詩(shī)來(lái)，于是我們就該贊賞他的努力？如果這真是一件值得稱贊的事，對(duì)它的重要性我想我們會(huì)盡量克制的去稱贊的。我們期待這樣一個(gè)時(shí)刻的到來(lái)，大家都一致認(rèn)為對(duì)于詩(shī)歌的肯定應(yīng)該取決于真正的上乘之作，及其產(chǎn)生的影響，而不是在作品所產(chǎn)生的影響中“持之以恒的努力”是必不可少的。實(shí)際上，堅(jiān)持和天才是不能混為一談的，即使是關(guān)于基督教界，季刊也不會(huì)在二者之間犯糊涂。隨著時(shí)間的推移，慢慢地，人們明確地接受了這個(gè)觀點(diǎn)以及我所主張的其他觀點(diǎn)，同時(shí)我那些曾被認(rèn)為是胡說(shuō)八道而遭到抨擊的觀點(diǎn)，而今如同真理一樣，在本質(zhì)上并為被顛覆。從另一方面來(lái)說(shuō)，我們都很清楚，詩(shī)歌也存在太短的問(wèn)題。太短的詩(shī)就會(huì)在遣詞造句方面過(guò)度斟酌，會(huì)導(dǎo)致警句過(guò)多的出現(xiàn)。在我們看來(lái)，一首短詩(shī)充滿哲理智慧或生動(dòng)形象，但絕不會(huì)令人刻骨銘心或經(jīng)久不衰，如同蠟燭上粘得牢牢的郵票。德 佰倫杰（De Beranger）一生充滿刺激和挑戰(zhàn)，但總的來(lái)說(shuō)，成為大眾矚目的焦點(diǎn)，令他們痛苦不堪，正如想象仿佛一根根飄在空中的羽毛，卻因無(wú)情的現(xiàn)實(shí)最終要落在地上。這里舉出一個(gè)典型的例子，一首過(guò)度精簡(jiǎn)的小詩(shī)，它早已被人遺忘了。下面是一首精美的小詩(shī)小夜曲（Serenade）:I arise from dreams of theeIn the first sweet of nightWhen the winds are breathing lowAnd the stars are shining brightI arise from dreams of theeAnd a spirit in my feetHath led me-who knows howTo thy chamber-window sweet!The wandering airs, they faintOn the dark, the silent stream-The champak odors failLike sweet thoughts in a dream;The nightingales complaint,It dies upon her heart,As I must die on thine,O, beloved as thou art!O, lift me from the grass!I die, I faint, I fail!Let thy love in kisses rainOn my lips and eyelids pale.My cheek is cold and white, alas!My heart beats loud and fast:Oh! Press it close to thine again,Where it will break at last!可能很少人熟悉這幾行詩(shī)吧,這正是雪萊的作品。這幾行詩(shī)想象豐富，空靈，絕妙。詩(shī)人從甜美的夢(mèng)中醒來(lái)，夢(mèng)里：在南方一個(gè)仲夏的夜晚，女友漫步在小道上，周圍的空氣中彌漫著芳香。下面是魏里斯（Willis）寫的一首精美的小詩(shī)，在我看來(lái)，這是他寫得最好的一首詩(shī)了。毫無(wú)疑問(wèn)，這首詩(shī)也因過(guò)度追求簡(jiǎn)短而失去了它本該享有的文學(xué)地位，不僅僅是評(píng)論界還有大眾的評(píng)價(jià)。The shadows lay along BroadwayTwas near the twilight-tide-And slowly there a lady fairWas walking in her pride.Alone walkd she; but, viewlesslyWalkd spirits at her side.Peace charmd the street beneath her feet,And honor charmd the air;And all astir looked kind on her,And calld her good and fair-For all God ever gave to herShe kept with chary care.She kept with care her beauties rareFrom lovers warm and true-For her heart was cold to all but gold,And the rich came not to woo-But honor d well are charms to sell,If priests the selling do.Now walking there was one more fair-A slight girl, lily-pale;And she had unseen companyTo make the spirit quail-Twixt Want and Scorn she walkd forlornAnd nothing could avail.No merey now can clear her browFor this worlds peace to pray;For, as loves wild prayer dissolved in air,Her womans heart gave way! -But the sin forgive by Christ in HeavenBy man is cursed always!從這首詩(shī)來(lái)看，我們很難想象到詩(shī)人曾經(jīng)以社會(huì)現(xiàn)實(shí)為題材創(chuàng)作了很多作品。這幾行詩(shī)想象豐富，鏗鏘有力，字里行間感情真摯，這是他其它幾部詩(shī)歌中所沒(méi)有的元素。幾年后，史詩(shī)的熱潮逐漸淡去，史詩(shī)的時(shí)代已經(jīng)是過(guò)去式了-主張連篇累牘是詩(shī)歌必不可少的特點(diǎn)-這次文學(xué)熱潮的消失卻是一種很荒謬的方式-一種異端邪說(shuō)取得了勝利，盡管它錯(cuò)誤百出到令人無(wú)法長(zhǎng)期忍受，但是有一點(diǎn)很清楚的是，我們已經(jīng)隱忍了一段時(shí)間。據(jù)說(shuō)，在詩(shī)歌文學(xué)衰落時(shí)期，這種異端邪說(shuō)所創(chuàng)作出的作品遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)多于與其對(duì)立派所創(chuàng)作的所有作品。我曾經(jīng)暗示過(guò)說(shuō)教（The Didactic）是一篇異端邪說(shuō)。緘默不語(yǔ)也好，公開(kāi)聲明也罷，我們都一直認(rèn)為詩(shī)歌的終極目標(biāo)是真理。據(jù)說(shuō)每首詩(shī)都應(yīng)該達(dá)到教化人們道德品行的目的，這也是作為評(píng)論詩(shī)歌的一個(gè)依據(jù)。美國(guó)人對(duì)于這個(gè)評(píng)論標(biāo)準(zhǔn)雙手贊成，波斯頓人會(huì)對(duì)這個(gè)標(biāo)準(zhǔn)不斷地完善并加以運(yùn)用。這個(gè)標(biāo)準(zhǔn)，我們會(huì)牢牢記住的，它是我們寫詩(shī)的出發(fā)點(diǎn)，也肯定了我們的初衷-在詩(shī)歌的肅穆和力量中，完全的袒露自己的情感，但我們要注意地是只能由我們自己看穿自己。我們會(huì)立刻發(fā)現(xiàn)，這首詩(shī)比世界上存在的任何一部作品都要莊嚴(yán)，高貴，這是絕無(wú)僅有的一首單純以寫詩(shī)為出發(fā)點(diǎn)所創(chuàng)作出來(lái)的詩(shī)。 對(duì)于真理人類懷著無(wú)比的崇敬之情，雖然如此，我還是會(huì)用一些措施來(lái)限制對(duì)道德品行教育的方式，但會(huì)盡量控制使用強(qiáng)制手段。我不會(huì)通過(guò)分離的方式而使其有所衰弱。真理需要的是嚴(yán)肅，莊重，她不會(huì)對(duì)香桃木有惻隱之心，在音樂(lè)中，一切都是不可或缺的，準(zhǔn)確的說(shuō)，這一切就是音樂(lè)無(wú)論做什么都是徒勞，有的只是在珠寶和鮮花的簇?fù)硐拢瑢?duì)此夸夸其談。真理需要的是言簡(jiǎn)意賅而不是辭藻華麗，我們必須做到頭腦冷靜，鎮(zhèn)定自若?？傊?，我們要盡可能地抱著一種態(tài)度對(duì)待真理，這是一種與對(duì)待詩(shī)歌截然相反的態(tài)度。如果一個(gè)人看不出真理和詩(shī)歌所起的教育作用的深層次差異，那么他一定是個(gè)盲人；盡管存在這些差異，如果一個(gè)人仍然執(zhí)著于使詩(shī)歌和理論達(dá)到水乳交融的程度，那么他一定是一個(gè)不可救藥的理論瘋子。根據(jù)精神世界的顯著差異，我們可以把它分為三個(gè)部分：智慧，鑒賞力，道德觀。我認(rèn)為鑒賞力居于第二位恰到好處，它與智慧，道德觀息息相關(guān)。根據(jù)一點(diǎn)細(xì)微的差別，亞里士多德好不猶豫地將鑒賞力的某些方面歸于美德本身。雖然如此，我們知道三重奏的位置是有明顯的差別的，這正如智慧的本身與真理有關(guān)，鑒賞力讓我們善于發(fā)現(xiàn)美，而道德觀就被看成是一種責(zé)任。對(duì)于所提到的智慧，鑒賞力，道德觀，我們還可以理解為：良知使我們自己的履行義務(wù)，理智讓事情處理起來(lái)變得簡(jiǎn)單，鑒賞力滿足于自身所展現(xiàn)的魅力。對(duì)自身不滿而心生邪惡引發(fā)過(guò)一場(chǎng)戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)：恨自己丑陋的外表，繼而心里不平衡，最后滋生仇恨，對(duì)一切心懷怨恨，但對(duì)根到底，是對(duì)美的仇恨。 Edgar Allen Poe. The Poetic Principle A. Edited by Yao Naiqian . Selecting Reading For Western Classics in Literary Criticism C. Shanghai: Shanghai Foreign Language Education Press, 2003: 398-404.