济慈，全名约翰·济慈John Keats，1795年—1821年）出生于18世纪末年的伦敦，他是杰出的英诗作家之一，也是浪漫派的主要成员。父亲是马厩的雇工领班。自幼喜爱文学，由于家境窘困，不满16岁就离校学医。他8岁丧父，14岁丧母...

济慈，全名约翰·济慈John Keats，1795年—1821年）出生于18世纪末年的伦敦，他是杰出的英诗作家之一，也是浪漫派的主要成员。父亲是马厩的雇工领班。自幼喜爱文学，由于家境窘困，不满16岁就离校学医。他8岁丧父，14岁丧母，虽然与弟弟和妹妹相互支持，但过早失去父母的悲伤始终影响着他。在恩菲尔德学校（Enfield School），济慈接受了传统正规的教育，在阅读和写作方面，济慈受到了师长克拉克（Charles Cowden Clarke）的鼓励。年轻的济慈非常钟爱维吉尔（Virgil），14岁时，他将维吉尔的长诗《埃涅阿斯纪》（"Aeneid"）翻译成英语。1810年，济慈被送去当药剂师的学徒。五年后济慈考入伦敦的一所医学院，但没有一年，济慈便放弃了从医的志愿，而专心于写作诗歌。济慈很早就尝试写作诗歌，他早期的作品多是一些仿作，1817年，济慈的第一本诗集出版。这本诗集受到了一些好的评论，但也有一些极为苛刻的攻击性评论刊登在当时很有影响力的一本杂志（Blackwood`s magazine）上。济慈没有被吓倒，他在来年的春天复印了新诗集《安迪密恩》（“Endymion”）。1818年夏天，济慈前往英格兰北部和苏格兰旅行，途中得到消息说他的兄弟汤姆得了严重的肺结核，济慈即刻赶回家照顾汤姆。这一年年底，汤姆死了，济慈搬到一个朋友在汉普斯泰德（Hampstead）的房子去住，现在人们已将那所房子认为济慈之家。在那里，济慈遇见并深深的爱上了一位年轻的女邻居，芬妮·布朗（Fanny Brawne）。在接下来的几年中，疾病与经济上的问题一直困扰着济慈，但他却令人惊讶的写出了大量的优秀作品，其中包括《圣艾格尼丝之夜》《秋颂》《夜莺颂》和《致秋天》等名作，表现出诗人对大自然的强烈感受和热爱，为他赢得巨大声誉。1820年3月，济慈第一次咳血，之后不久，因为迅速恶化的肺结核，1821年2月23日，济慈于在意大利疗养时逝世。 去世的时候，只有年轻而忠诚的朋友画家塞文陪伴着他。

他的墓志铭写着：Here lies one

whose name was written in water

此地长眠者，声名水上书。

济慈创作的第一首诗是《仿斯宾塞》，接着又写了许多优秀的十四行诗，他的这些早期诗作收集在1817年3月出版的第一本《诗集》中。次年，他根据古希腊神话写成的《安迪密恩》问世，全诗想象丰富，色彩绚丽，构架宏大，洋溢着对自由的渴望。

1818年到1820年，是济慈诗歌创作的鼎盛时期，他先后完成了《伊莎贝拉》《圣亚尼节前夜》《海伯利安》等著名长诗，最脍炙人口的《夜莺颂》《希腊古翁颂》《秋颂》等名篇也是在这一时期内写成的。

济慈诗才横溢，与雪莱、拜伦齐名。他生平只有25岁，但其遗下的诗篇一直誉满人间，被认为完美地体现了西方浪漫主义诗歌的特色，并被推崇为欧洲浪漫主义运动的杰出代表。他主张“美即是真，真即是美”，擅长描绘自然景色和事物外貌，表现景物的色彩感和立体感，重视写作技巧，语言追求华美，对后世抒情诗的创作影响极大。

“1821年2月23日，他客死罗马，安葬在英国新教徒公墓，年仅二十五岁。……如果天以借年，他能够达到什么样的成就，是难以逆料的。但是人们公认，当他二十四岁停笔时，他对诗坛的贡献已大大超越了同一年龄的乔叟、莎士比亚和弥尔顿。” 　

“在英国的大诗人中，几乎没有一个人比济慈的出身更为卑微。” （BY《济慈诗选》序/屠岸）

注：济慈以及其诸多诗作，曾经在著名的科幻作品系列《海伯利安》中被提及。

济慈特指约翰.济慈，（John Keats），其他“Keats”译为“基茨”。

以下为济慈三首诗作。

————————————————————

Ode To A Nightingale

John Keats

夜莺颂

济慈

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk

我的心痛，困顿和麻木

毒害了感官，犹如饮过毒鸩，

又似刚把鸦片吞服，

一分钟的时间，字句在忘川中沉没

’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

But being too happy in thine happiness,--

That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees

In some melodious plot

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

并不是在嫉妒你的幸运，

是为着你的幸运而大感快乐，

你，林间轻翅的精灵，

在山毛榉绿影下的情结中，

放开了歌喉，歌唱夏季。

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stained mouth

That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

And with thee fade away into the forest dim

哎，一口酒！那冷藏

在地下多年的甘醇，

味如花神、绿土、

舞蹈、恋歌和灼热的欢乐！

哎，满满一杯南方的温暖，

充满了鲜红的灵感之泉，

杯沿闪动着珍珠的泡沫，

和唇边退去的紫色；

我要一饮以不见尘世，

与你循入森林幽暗的深处

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

What thou among the leaves hast never known,

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

And leaden-eyed despairs,

Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

远远的离开，消失，彻底忘记

林中的你从不知道的，

疲惫、热病和急躁

这里，人们坐下并听着彼此的呻吟；

瘫痪摇动了一会儿，悲伤了，最后的几丝白发，

青春苍白，古怪的消瘦下去，后来死亡；

铅色的眼睛绝望着；

美人守不住明眸，

新的恋情过不完明天。

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,

But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

Though the dull brain perplexes and retards

Already with thee! tender is the night,

And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,

Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;

But here there is no light,

Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

去吧！去吧！我要飞向你，

不用酒神的车辗和他的随从，

乘着诗歌无形的翅膀，

尽管这混沌的头脑早已跟随你，

夜色温柔，而月后

正登上她的宝座，

周围是她所有的星星仙子，

但这处那处都没有光，

一些天光被微风吹入幽绿，

和青苔的曲径。

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,

But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet

Wherewith the seasonable month endows

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;

White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;

And mid-May’s eldest child,

The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

我不能看清是哪些花在我的脚旁，

何种软香悬于高枝，

但在温馨的暗处，猜测每一种甜蜜

以其时令的赠与

青草地、灌木丛、野果树

白山楂和田园玫瑰；

叶堆中易谢的紫罗兰；

还有五与中旬的首出，

这啜满了露酒的麝香蔷薇，

夏夜蝇子嗡嗡的出没其中。

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

In such an ecstasy!

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--

To thy high requiem become a sod.

我倾听黑夜，多少次

我几乎爱上了逸谧的死亡，

在如此多的沉思之韵中呼唤她轻柔的名，

编织成歌，我无声的呼吸；

现在她更加华丽的死去，

在午夜不带悲伤的飞升，

当你正向外倾泻灵魂

这般的迷狂！

你仍唱着，而我听不见，

你那高昂的安魂曲对着一搓泥土。

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

The same that oft-times hath

Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep

In the next valley-glades:

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is that music:--Do I wake or sleep?

永生的鸟啊！你不为了死亡出生！

饥饿的时代无法把你蹂躏；

这逝去的夜晚里我所听见的

在那远古的日子也曾为帝王和小丑听见；

可能相同的歌在露丝那颗忧愁的心中

找到了一条路径，当她思念故乡，

站在异邦的谷田中落泪；

这声音常常

在遗失的仙城中震动了窗扉

望向泡沫浪花

遗失！这个字如同一声钟响

把我从你处带会我单独自我！

别了！幻想无法继续欺骗

当她不再能够，

别了！别了！你哀伤的圣歌

退入了后面的草地，流过溪水，

涌上山坡；而此时，它正深深

埋在下一个山谷的阴影中：

是幻觉，还是梦寐？

那歌声去了：我醒了？我睡着？

————————————————————

再附一首代表作： La Belle sans Merci:A Ballad

1

O what can ail thee,kings at arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has wither’d from the lake,

And no birds sing.

2

O what can ail thee,kings at arms,

So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

And the Harvest’s done.

3

I see a lily on thy brow

With anguish moist and fever dew,

And no thy cheeks a fading rose

Fast withered too.

4

I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful,and a fairy’s child;

Her hair was long,her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.

5

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.

6

I set her on my pacing street,

And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend,and sing

A fairy’s song.

7

She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild,and manna dew,

And sure in languages strange she said--

I love thee true.

8

She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept,and sigh’d full score,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

With kisses four.

9

And there she lulled me asleep,

And there I dream’d--Ah!Woe betide!

The latest dream I ever dream’d

On the cold hill’s side.

10

I saw pale kings,and princes too,

Pale warriors,death pale were they all;

They cried--’La belle dame sans merci

Hath thee in thrall!’

11

I saw their starv’d lips in the gloam

With horrid warning gaped wide,

And I awoke and found me here

On the cold hill’s side.

12

And this in why I sojourned here,

Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge has wither’d from the lake,

And no birds sing.

——————————————————————————

To Autumn

by John Keats J.

1

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun,

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;

To bend with apples the mossu2019d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has ou2019er-brimmu2019d their clammy cells.

2

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair sort-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reapu2019d furrow sound asleep,

Dowsu2019d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

3

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;

Then in a waiful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles form a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

秋颂

1

雾气洋溢、果实圆熟的秋，

你和成熟的太阳成为友伴；

你们密谋用累累的珠球，

缀满茅屋檐下的葡萄藤蔓；

使屋前的老树背负着苹果，

让熟味透进果实的心中，

使葫芦胀大，鼓起了榛子壳，

好塞进甜核；又为了蜜蜂

一次一次开放过迟的花朵，

使它们以为日子将永远暖和，

因为夏季早填满它们的粘巢。

2

谁不经常看见你伴着谷仓？

在田野里也可以把你找到，

弥有时随意坐在打麦场上，

让发丝随着簸谷的风轻飘；

有时候，为罂粟花香所沉迷，

你倒卧在收割一半的田垄，

让镰刀歇在下一畦的花旁；

或者．像拾穗人越过小溪，

你昂首背着谷袋，投下倒影，

或者就在榨果架下坐几点钟，

你耐心地瞧着徐徐滴下的酒浆。

3

啊．春日的歌哪里去了？但不要

想这些吧，你也有你的音乐——

当波状的云把将逝的一天映照，

以胭红抹上残梗散碎的田野，

这时啊，河柳下的一群小飞虫

就同奏哀音，它们忽而飞高，

忽而下落，随着微风的起灭；

篱下的蟋蟀在歌唱，在园中

红胸的知更鸟就群起呼哨；

而群羊在山圈里高声默默咩叫；

丛飞的燕子在天空呢喃不歇。

另外还有诗《蝈蝈与蛐蛐》

1816年发表处女作《哦，孤独》

O SOLITUDE!

by John Keats

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,

Let it not be among the jumbled heap

Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,-

Nature’s observatory- whence the dell,

Its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell,

May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep

’Mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap

Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.

But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee,

Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,

Whose words are images of thoughts refin’d,

Is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be

Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,

When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

哦，孤独

约翰·济慈 查良铮译

哦，孤独！假若我和你必需同住，

可别在这层叠的一片

灰色建筑里，让我们爬上山，

到大自然的观测台去，从那里——

山谷、晶亮的河，锦簇的草坡

看来只是一拃；让我守着你

在枝叶荫蔽下，看跳纵的鹿糜

把指顶花蛊里的蜜蜂惊吓。

不过，虽然我喜欢和你赏玩

这些景色，我的心灵更乐于

和纯洁的心灵（她的言语

是优美情思的表象）亲切会谈；

因为我相信，人的至高的乐趣

是一对心灵避入你的港湾。