To be, or not to be
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: aye, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
什么都完了；要是在这一种睡眠之中， 我们心头的创痛，以及其他无数血肉之躯所不能避免的打击，都可以从此消失， 那正是我们求之不得的结局。
因为当我们摆脱了这一具朽腐的皮囊以后， 在那死的睡眠里，究竟将要做些什么梦， 那不能不使我们踌躇顾虑。
谁愿意忍受人世的鞭挞和讥嘲、 压迫者的凌辱、傲慢者的冷眼、 被轻蔑的爱情的惨痛、法律的迁延、 官吏的横暴 和费尽辛勤所换来的小人的鄙视，
To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn,
No traveler returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,，
And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
倘不是因为惧怕不可知的死后，惧怕那 从来不曾有一个旅人回来过的 神秘之国，
不敢向我们所不知道的痛苦飞去？ 这样，重重的顾虑使我们全变成了懦夫， 决心的赤热的光彩，
She Walks in Beauty
George Gordon,Lord Byron (1788–1824)
She walks in beauty, like the night 她在美丽中行走，像无云夜晚 Of cloudless climes and starry skies, 天空里的星星点点 And all that’s best of dark and bright 黑夜与明亮辉映出 Meet in her aspect and her eyes; 她的雍容，和如水秋波。 Thus mellow’d to that tender light 温柔的星光恰好 Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 不做作，不炫耀。
One shade the more, one ray the less, 增加或减少一分色彩 Had half impair’d the nameless grace 都会损害这难以形容的美。 Which waves in every raven tress 流动在她缕缕乌黑的秀发上， Or softly lightens o’er her face, 美也温柔地照亮她的脸旁。 Where thoughts serenely sweet express 那里，恬静的思绪， How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 多么纯洁，多么亲切。
And on that cheek and o’er that brow 她的面颊，她的眉毛
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 是那么柔和和娴静，而又脉脉含情， The smiles that win, the tints that glow 那迷人的微笑，那明眸的顾盼 But tell of days in goodness spent,— 都在说明一个善良的生命 A mind at peace with all below, 她和平地对待时间的一切 A heart whose love is innocent.她的心流溢着纯真的爱情！
I wandered lonely as a cloud
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the tress, Fluttering and dance in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in the never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay;
Ten thousand say I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee; A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company;
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dance with the daffodils.
To the cuckoo Wordsworth
*O blithe new-comer! I have heard,? I hear thee and rejoice.?
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or? but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass At once far off, and near.
在群山万壑之上飘飞， 忽然看到一大群， 好大一堆金黄色的水仙； 在湖边，在树下荫处， 于微风中翩翩起舞。 像银河中繁星一般 不断的闪耀发光， 它们沿著水湾的边缘 伸展成为无穷无尽的一行： 我一眼望到花儿千万朵， 欢蹦乱跳的把头摇着。 它们旁边的湖水也在舞动； 可是花比闪亮的水更活泼： 有如此欢愉的环境， 一个诗人怎能不快乐。
我凝视－－凝视－－并未省悟 这景象給我帶来何等的财富： 因为时常我卧在榻上 茫茫然陷入沉思状态， 它们会在我內心闪亮， 这是寂寞中无上的愉快； 于是我的心便涨满欢乐， 和水仙一同起舞婆娑。
欢的新客啊！我已听到了 你的叫声和欢喜。 杜鹃啊！该称你为鸟儿， 或只是飘扬的音波呢？ 此刻我正躺卧原野上， 靜听你呼呼的声音 这声音从山岗越过山岗， 忽远忽近。
*Though babbling only to the Vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours.
*Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even ye thou art to me
No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice a mystery;
The same whom in my schoolboy days I listened to; that Cry
Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. *To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. *And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.
*O blessed Bird! the earth we pace Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, faery place; That is fit home for thee!
你只向山谷咕咕倾诉， 咏叹阳光和花儿， 这歌声却彷彿在向我述说 如梦年华的故事。 春天的骄子！欢迎你欢迎 至今，我仍觉得你
不是鸟儿，而是无形的精灵 是音波，是一团神秘。 与童年時期听見的一模一样： 那时，你的啼叫声
纵使我向树丛、林木、天空 百遍千遍探看不已。 为了寻觅你我多次游荡， 越过林间和草地。 你是希望，你是爱 被渴求，却看不見。 今天，我仰卧在草原上， 静听你的声音， 直到我心底悠悠再现 往昔的黃金岁月。 吉祥的鸟儿啊！
这在我们脚下的沃野大地， 如今彷彿又成了梦幻仙境， 正适合给你居住。
我是否可以把你比喻成夏天？ Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 虽然你比夏天更可爱更温和： Thou art more lovely and more temperate: 狂风会使五月娇蕾红消香断， Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 夏天拥有的时日也转瞬即过； And summer's lease hath all too short a date: 有时天空之巨眼目光太炽热， Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 它金灿灿的面色也常被遮暗； And often is his gold complexion dimmed, 而千芳万艳都终将凋零飘落， And every fair from fair sometime declines,
被时运天道之更替剥尽红颜； By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed: 但你永恒的夏天将没有止尽， But thy eternal summer shall not fade, 你所拥有的美貌也不会消失， Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, 死神终难夸口你游荡于死荫， Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade, 当你在不朽的诗中永葆盛时； When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
只要有人类生存，或人有眼睛， So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, 我的诗就会流传并赋予你生命。 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
We are seven
A Simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair; --Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell." She answered, "Seven are we; And two of us at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie, My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother." "You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!--I pray you tell, Sweet Maid, how this may be." Then did the little Maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree." "You run above, my little Maid, Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid, Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
胳膊腿儿尽显活力， 如何知道什么是死？ 我遇到一个乡村小女孩儿， 她说，她八岁了； 头发多卷而浓密， 团结在小脑袋上。 她带着乡村林野气息， 衣着土气焉， 美目兮，明眸兮， 她的美令我愉悦。 “小女孩儿，兄弟姊妹， 有几个？”
“几个？一共七个，”她说。 看着我，有点儿惊奇。 “他们在哪儿？我求你了，” 她答道，七个我们是； 有两个住在康维， 两个出海了。”
我和妈就住墓地旁小屋里， 离他们挺近。" "你说两个住在康维， 两个出海，
可你们一共七个！我求你了， 好孩子，这怎么可能。" "男孩儿女孩儿我们共七个，” 小女孩儿答道。
And they are side by side. "My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem; And there upon the ground I sit, And sing a song to them. "And often after sun-set, Sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane; In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain; And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid; And, when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I, "If they two are in heaven?" Quick was the little Maid's reply, "O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead! Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still The little Maid would have her will, And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
就在墓地的树荫底下。” 小女孩儿，你活蹦乱跳， 胳膊腿儿多灵活； 要是有两个躺在墓地里， 那么你们只剩五个呀。
"他们的坟草青青，一眼看得清，" 小女孩儿答道， "离我家门儿十来步。 两座坟紧挨着。" "我常在哪儿织长袜， 给手绢缝褶边儿； 就在那儿地上坐， 为他们把歌唱。" "先生，太阳落山后， 天还亮天还晴， 我总是端着小粥碗， 在那儿吃晚饭。" "姐姐简先死的， 她躺在床上哼叫着， 直到上帝不让她再受苦头， 她就这样离去了。” “她被安放在教堂墓地里， 当青草干枯时， 我哥哥约翰和我， 在她坟前游戏玩耍。” “等到地上铺满了白雪， 我可奔跑打滑溜了， 我哥哥约翰被迫离去， 在她身旁躺下。” "要是他们俩在天国， 那你们还剩几个，"我说， 小女孩回答的不假思索， "哦先生，我们是七个。"
Stopping by Woods --- Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know, 我知道林子的主人是谁，
His house is in the village though. 虽村落是他所居之地。
He will not see me stopping here, 他不会看到我停留于此，
To watch his woods fill up with snow. 凝视他的林子雪花纷飞。
My little horse must think it queer, 我的小马一定以我为怪，
To stop without a farmhouse near, 近无房舍，为何停伫。
Between the woods and frozen lake, 况只有林子与冰湖，
The darkest evening of the year. 和一年中最黑之夜。
He gives his harness bells a shake, 他轻摇铃具
To ask if there is some mistake. 询问有错与否。
The only other sound's the sweep, 唯一的回复来自，
Of easy wind and downy flake. 软雪和清风。
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. 林子很美——昏暗而幽深，
But I have promises to keep, 但我已有约定。
And miles to go before I sleep. 沉醉前还有一段路要走
And miles to go before I sleep 沉醉前还有一段路要走。
Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment, and disposition of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of affairs, come best, from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a scholar. They perfect nature, and
are perfected by experience: for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need proyning, by study; and studies themselves, do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them bothers; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books, else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things.
Reading make a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know, that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtitle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. Abeunt studia in mores. Nay, there is no stand or impediment in the wit, but may be wrought out by fit studies; like as diseases of the body, may have appropriate exercises. Bowling is good for the stone and reins; shooting for the lungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the head; and the like. So if a man\'s wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again. If his wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the Schoolmen; for they are cymini sectors. If he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers\' cases. So every defect of the mind, may have a special receipt.