minster Abbey. There was something congenial to the season in the
mournful magnificence of the old pile, and as I passed its
threshold it seemed like stepping back into the regions of
antiquity and losing myself among the shades of former ages.
时方晚秋，气象肃穆，略带忧郁，早晨的阴影和黄昏的阴影，几乎连接在一起，不可分别，岁云将暮，终日昏暗，我就在这么一天，到西敏大寺去信步走了几个钟头。古寺巍巍，森森然似有鬼气，和阴沉沉的季候正好相符；我跨进大门，觉得自己好像已经置身远古世界，忘形于昔日的憧憧鬼影之中了。
I entered from the inner court of Westminster School, through a
long, low, vaulted passage that had an almost subterranean look,
being dimly lighted in one part by circular perforations in the
massive walls. Through this dark avenue I had a distant view of the
cloisters, with the figure of an old verger in his black gown
moving along their shadowy vaults, and seeming like a spectre from
one of the neighboring tombs. The approach to the abbey through
these gloomy monastic remains prepares the mind for its solemn
contemplation. The cloisters still retain something of the quiet
and seclusion of former days. The gray walls are discolored by
damps and crumbling with age; a coat of hoary moss has gathered
over the inscriptions of the mural monuments, and obscured the
death’s heads and other funeral emblems. The sharp touches of the
chisel are gone from the rich tracery of the arches; the roses
which adorned the keystones have lost their leafy beauty;
everything bears marks of the gradual dilapidations of time, which
yet has something touching and pleasing in its very decay.
我是从西敏学校的内庭走进去的，先走过一条弧顶的矮矮的长廊，墙壁很厚，墙上有圆孔，略有光线透入，廊中幽暗，幽幽然似在地下行走。黑廊尽头，我远远的看见大寺里的回廊，一个老年香火道人，身穿黑袍，正沿着拱廊阴影里踽踽走去，看起来就像从附近的古坟里爬出来的鬼魂。我从当年僧院遗址那条路进入古寺，景象分外凄凉，我心也更适宜于往凄凉方面冥想了。回廊一带依然保留有几分当年的幽静出世之慨。灰色的墙壁为霉气所蒸，显得斑斑驳驳，年代己久，颓坏之象，也很明显。墙上长了一层白苍苍的苔薛，非但上面的碑文不可读，连骷髅像和别的丧用标志都模糊不清。弧顶布满雕刻花纹，可是斧钻的痕迹，也已模糊；拱心石上面雕有玫瑰花，可是当年枝叶茂美之状，已经不可复见。每样东西都可以看出年久衰败之象，可是即使处在颓朽之中，依然不乏赏心悦目之处。
The sun was pouring down a yellow autumnal ray into the square of
the cloisters, beaming upon a scanty plot of grass in the centre,
and lighting up an angle of the vaulted passage with a kind of
dusky splendor. From between the arcades the eye glanced up to a
bit of blue sky or a passing cloud, and beheld the sun-gilt
pinnacles of the abbey towering into the azure heaven.
一道带有秋意的黄色阳光，正从回廊环绕的广场上空倾泻下来；照耀着场中央一块稀疏的草坪，同时把上有拱顶的过道一角抹上一层阴郁的光辉。从拱廊之间向上望去，可以瞥见一抹蓝天，或一朵游云，还有那镀着阳光，伸向碧空的寺顶尖塔，也巍然在目。
It seems as if the awful nature of the place presses down upon the
soul and hushes the beholder into noiseless reverence. We feel that
we are surrounded by the congregated bones of the great men of past
times, who have filled history with their deeds and the earth with
their renown.
寺里庄严气氛仿佛压制了游客的心灵，大家都有肃然起敬之感。我们觉得在我们的四周，聚集着古代伟人的骨骸，他们的名声和业绩彪炳史册，传遍了全球，可是如今他们一个个只剩一堆黄土。
And yet it almost provokes a smile at the vanity of human ambition
to see how they are crowded together and jostled in the dust; what
parsimony is observed in doling out a scanty nook, a gloomy corner,
a little portion of earth, to those whom, when alive, kingdoms
could not satisfy, and how many shapes and forms and artifices are
devised to catch the casual notice of the passenger, and save from
forgetfulness for a few short years a name which once aspired to
occupy ages of the world’s thought and admiration.
现在这些伟人横七竖八地挤在泥土之中；他们在世之时，多少王国的疆域都不足以供他们纵马驰骋，如今为了遵照经济的原则，他们只分得那么小小的一块土地，那么贫瘠而黑暗的一个角落。他们曾企图使自己的英名占有世世代代人的思想，获得人人的钦羡，如今他们的坟墓上，却千方百计地雕出种种图案和装饰，只为了吸引游客偶然的一顾，免得在短短的几年之中，就把他们的名字忘怀。看了这些，想到人生的虚空，我又几乎忍不住要惨然一笑了。
诗人之角
莎士比亚半身像（Roubilliac 作）
I passed some time in Poet's Corner, which occupies an end of one
of the transepts or cross aisles of the abbey. The monuments are
generally simple, for the lives of literary men afford no striking
themes for the sculptor. Shakespeare and Addison have statues
erected to their memories, but the greater part have busts,
medallions, and sometimes mere inscriptions. Notwithstanding the
simplicity of these memorials, I have always observed that the
visitors to the abbey remained longest about them. A kinder and
fonder feeling takes place of that cold curiosity or vague
admiration with which they gaze on the splendid monuments of the
great and the heroic. They linger about these as about the tombs of
friends and companions, for indeed there is something of
companionship between the author and the reader. Other men are
known to posterity only through the medium of history, which is
continually growing faint and obscure; but the intercourse between
the author and his fellowmen is ever new, active, and immediate. He
has lived for them more than for himself; he has sacrificed
surrounding enjoyments, and shut himself up from the delights of
social life, that he might the more intimately commune with distant
minds and distant ages. Well may the world cherish his renown, for
it has been purchased not by deeds of violence and blood, but by
the diligent dispensation of pleasure. Well may posterity be
grateful to his memory, for he has left it an inheritance not of
empty names and sounding actions, but whole treasures of wisdom,
bright gems of thought, and golden veins of language.
我在诗人祠里面逗留了一些时候，诗人祠者，只是寺内一个十字形侧堂的一隅。这儿的纪念碑，一般都很朴素；因为文人的生涯大多平凡，缺少可供雕刻的惊人题材。莎士比亚和艾迪生有全身的纪念雕像；其他诗人大多只有半身雕像或肖像牌，有些只有碑文。这些纪念碑虽然朴素无饰，我发现游客总是在这儿停留的时间最长。伟人和英雄的墓碑，华丽是华丽了，但只能引起他们冷淡的好奇心，或是模糊的羡慕之情；诗人的墓碑却勾起了他们一种更为亲切的情爱。他们留恋左右，就像置身于朋友和知己的墓旁；因为在作者和读者之间，的确存在着一种友情。别种人物之闻名后世，完全要靠历史的媒介，而历史总是变得愈来愈模糊，愈来愈隔膜；作家和他的读者之间却永远保持着新鲜、活泼和直接的交谊。作家与其说为了自己活在世上，不如说为了读者。他为了要和后世的人作更亲密的交谈．不惜牺牲他当时周遭的享受，自绝于社交生活的乐趣。但愿世人都珍重作家的声名，因为作家的声名并非用暴力和流血的手段攫取而得，而是以不断施与快乐的善行换来的。但愿后世能永远纪念他的恩赐，因为他所遗留下来的，并非空洞的名字和虚夸的行为，而是智慧的宝库，思想的结晶，和珠玑的文字。
From Poet's Corner I continued my stroll towards that part of the
abbey which contains the sepulchres of the kings. I wandered among
what once were chapels, but which are now occupied by the tombs and
monuments of the great. At every turn I met with some illustrious
name or the cognizance of some powerful house renowned in history.
As the eye darts into these dusky chambers of death it catches
glimpses of quaint effigies—some kneeling in niches, as if in
devotion; others stretched upon the tombs, with hands piously
pressed together; warriors in armor, as if reposing after battle;
prelates, with crosiers and mitres; and nobles in robes and
coronets, lying as it were in state. In glancing over this scene,
so strangely populous, yet where every form is so still and silent,
it seems almost as if we were treading a mansion of that fabled
city where every being had been suddenly transmuted into
stone.
出了诗人祠，走向寺内安置帝王陵寝的地方。这部分以前都是礼拜堂，如今已被伟人的坟墓和纪念碑所占有，我每次转身，都可遇见一些显赫的名字，或是一些在历史上以权势著称的家族徽号。当目光扫入这些死人之室的时候，我瞥见许多奇形怪状的雕像：有的跪在壁龛里，好像正在祈祷；有的横卧在坟上，虔诚地合着手掌；武士身穿铠甲，好像刚从战场归来；主教戴着法冠，手持圭杖；贵族身穿礼服，头戴小冠，好像殡殓以前供人瞻仰似地躺着。此处的古像，看来异常拥挤，可是每一个形体又是那样静如止水，寂然无声，使我们觉得简直好像置身于神话中的古城里的那座大厦，里面所有的人都已在骤然间化成了石头。
In the opposite transept to Poet's Corner stands a monument which
is among the most renowned achievements of modern art, but which to
me appears horrible rather than sublime. It is the tomb of Mrs.
Nightingale, by Roubillac. The bottom of the monument is
represented as throwing open its marble doors, and a sheeted
skeleton is starting forth. The shroud is falling from his
fleshless frame as he launches his dart at his victim. She is
sinking into her affrighted husband’s arms, who strives with vain
and frantic effort to avert the blow. The whole is executed with
terrible truth and spirit; we almost fancy we hear the gibbering
yell of triumph bursting from the distended jaws of the spectre.
But why should we thus seek to clothe death with unnecessary
terrors, and to spread horrors round the tomb of those we love? The
grave should be surrounded by everything that might inspire
tenderness and veneration for the dead, or that might win the
living to virtue. It is the place not of disgust and dismay, but of
sorrow and meditation.
在诗人祠对面的十字形侧堂内树立着一座纪念碑，它是最著名的现代艺术杰作之一；但在我看来，与其说它壮观，不如说它可怖。这是法国雕刻家罗比亚所设计南丁格尔夫人之墓。纪念碑的底脚刻的是两扇撞开的大理石门，门口窜出一个披着尸衣的骷髅。他正举起标枪，向受难者投掷，尸衣也正从他枯槁的身上滑卸下来。南丁格尔夫人倒在她那谅惶的丈夫的臂怀中，他正发狂似地拼命抵御，徒然地想要挡住那致命的一击。整个作品充满了活力，而且逼真得可怕；我们几乎觉得魔鬼张开的牙床间，正进发出一阵胜利的呐喊。但我们为何把死亡妆扮得如此可怕，在我们所敬爱的死者之墓的周围散布如许恐怖呢?坟墓的装饰应该激发对死者的柔情和敬意，或者有一种催人向善的力量。古人的坟墓并不要使人生出憎厌和沮丧的情感，而是叫人来哀悼和沉思的。
While wandering about these gloomy vaults and silent aisles,
studying the records of the dead, the sound of busy existence from
without occasionally reaches the ear—the rumbling of the passing
equipage, the murmur of the multitude, or perhaps the light laugh
of pleasure. The contrast is striking with the deathlike repose
around; and it has a strange effect upon the feelings thus to hear
the surges of active life hurrying along and beating against the
very walls of the sepulchre.
我正徘徊在幽暗的拱廊和静寂的侧堂中，研究着有关死者的记录，外面却时时传来忙碌的都市之声—辚辚的马车声，嘈杂的人声，甚至轻快的笑声。它们和周围死一般的宁静构成强烈的对照；在寺里边听到外面紧张生活的浪潮冲激着这个墓堂的墙壁，真有说不出的奇异感觉。
I continued in this way to move from tomb to tomb and from chapel
to chapel. The day was gradually wearing away; the distant tread of
loiterers about the abbey grew less and less frequent; the
sweet-tongued bell was summoning to evening prayers; and I saw at a
distance the choristers in their white surplices crossing the aisle
and entering the choir. I stood before the entrance to Henry the
Seventh's chapel. A flight of steps leads up to it through a deep
and gloomy but magnificent arch. Great gates of brass, richly and
delicately wrought, turn heavily upon their hinges, as if proudly
reluctant to admit the feet of common mortals into this most
gorgeous of sepulchres.
就这样，我继续从一座坟墓移步至另一座，从一所礼拜堂走到另一所。天色渐暮，深入寺内的走道上的游客脚步声变得愈来愈稀少了；悦耳的铃声正在召唤人们去晚祷；我远远看见唱诗班的成员，披着白架装，跨过通廊，纷纷入席。我站在亨利七世②礼拜堂的入口处。堂前有一道阶梯，进门前先得穿过一座幽深而宏伟的拱门。黄铜大门，雕饰得富丽精巧，开启时绞链发出吃力的转动声，好像傲慢得不愿让凡夫俗子擅自闯入这所最华丽的墓堂。
There is a sad dreariness in this magnificence, this strange
mixture of tombs and trophies, these emblems of living and aspiring
ambition, close beside mementos which show the dust and oblivion in
which all must sooner or later terminate. Nothing impresses the
mind with a deeper feeling of loneliness than to tread the silent
and deserted scene of former throng and pageant. On looking round
on the vacant stalls of the knights and their esquires, and on the
rows of dusty but gorgeous banners that were once borne before
them, my imagination conjured up the scene when this hall was
bright with the valor and beauty of the land, glittering with the
splendor of jewelled rank and military array, alive with the tread
of many feet and the hum of an admiring multitude. All had passed
away; the silence of death had settled again upon the place,
interrupted only by the casual chirping of birds, which had found
their way into the chapel and built their nests among its friezes
and pendants—sure signs of solitariness and desertion.
这是一个由坟墓和战利品混合而成的奇异场所；在一切富丽堂皇之中，在这象征雄心壮志的标志之中，却有着凄凉寂寞之感；因为这些标志都和坟墓为邻，紧靠着积满尘埃和被人遗忘的纪念物，而世人无不迟早将会在尘埃和湮没中获得归宿。走在一个寂静荒凉的地方，想起当年该地的繁华热闹，再没有比这更使人油然兴起一种深深的寂寞之感。我打量着骑士及其侍从的空位，和一排排曾在他们前面飘扬，如今积满尘埃却依然华丽如故的旗帜，眼前不禁涌现一幅幻象：看到昔日的这座大厅里，正云集着当时该地的英雄和美人；辉耀着珠光宝气的仕女和全副戎装的骑士行列；只听见不少人的脚步声杂沓不停，众人正在赞叹称羡的嘁嘁喳喧的声音。刹那间，这一切都已消逝；死一般的寂静重新笼罩下来，耳边只有一两声偶尔啁啾的鸟鸣—连鸟儿都已闯进这座礼拜堂，并在梁柱间筑起它们的爱巢，可见此处是如何的荒凉和寥落。
The sound of casual footsteps had ceased from the abbey. I could
only hear, now and then, the distant voice of the priest repeating
the evening service and the faint responses of the choir; these
paused for a time, and all was hushed. The stillness, the
desertion, and obscurity that were gradally prevailing around gave
a deeper and more solemn interest to the place.
零星的足声已从寺内消失。我只听见远处时时传来祭司朗诵晚祷经的声音，和唱诗班微弱的应答声；当这些声音停息之时，整个大寺变得鸦雀无声。四周的一切逐渐为沉静、孤寂、和幽暗所笼罩，使这个场所给人一种更为深沉和更为严肃的情趣。
I sat for some time lost in that kind of reverie which a strain of
music is apt sometimes to inspire: the shadows of evening were
gradually thickening round me; the monuments began to cast deeper
and deeper gloom; and the distant clock again gave token of the
slowly waning day.
我在迷离恍惚的状态中坐了一些时候，音乐往往会使人心荡神移。这时暮色逐渐笼罩在我的四周；纪念碑开始投射更深更深的幽影，远处又传来钟声，报道白昼正在消逝。
The last beams of day were now faintly streaming through the
painted windows in the high vaults above me; the lower parts of the
abbey were already wrapped in the obscurity of twilight. The
chapels and aisles grew darker and darker. The effigies of the
kings faded into shadows; the marble figures of the monuments
assumed strange shapes in the uncertain light; the evening breeze
crept through the aisles like the cold breath of the grave; and
even the distant footfall of a verger, traversing the Poet’s
Corner, had something strange and dreary in its sound. I slowly
retraced my morning’s walk, and as I passed out at the portal of
the cloisters, the door, closing with a jarring noise behind me,
filled the whole building with echoes.
从我上面的那些高大拱顶的彩色玻璃窗里，现在正泻下几丝残余的日光；寺院较低的部分业已笼罩在薄暮的阴影之中，礼拜堂和两旁侧廊幽暗益深。那些帝王的偶像逐渐模糊而成—个个阴影；一座座纪念碑上的大理石像在朦胧恍惚的光线中变得奇形怪状；侧廊上晚风袭人，森森然像是坟墓中吹来的阵阵寒气；甚至从诗人祠那边传来的一位教士的足音，都令人悚然产生奇异的恐怖之感。我慢慢地踏着早晨的来路回去，当我穿出回廊的门口，廊门在我后面嘎嘎作声地关上，回声响彻整座屋宇。
回廊
What then is to ensure this pile which now towers above me from
sharing the fate of mightier mausoleums? The time must come when
its gilded vaults which now spring so loftily, shall lie in rubbish
beneath the feet; when instead of the sound of melody and praise
the wind shall whistle through the broken arches and the owl hoot
from the shattered tower; when the garish sunbeam shall break into
these gloomy mansions of death, and the ivy twine round the fallen
column; and the fox-glove hang its blossoms about the nameless urn,
as if in mockery of the dead. Thus man passes away; his name passes
from record and recollection; his history is as a tale that is
told, and his very monument becomes a ruin.
那么，有什么东西能担保这所巍巍大寺不和那些更宏伟的神庙遭受同样的命运呢?总有一天，这些高耸的镀金拱顶会变成踩在脚下的碎屑；其时，这儿决不会听到有什么音乐和赞美歌，只有破拱门里的飒飒风声，伴和着破塔上的枭啼—其时，眩目的阳光将穿进这些幽暗的墓堂，常春藤将攀绕在倾倒的圆柱上；毛地黄把花冠垂在无名者的骨灰瓮上，仿佛嘲笑里面的死人。人就这样消逝了；他的名字将从世人的记录和记忆中泯灭；他的一生就像一个说完了的故事，而他的纪念碑终将沦为一座废墟。
