"My Last Duchess" - 〈我已故的公爵夫人>
诗歌欣赏： 罗伯特.布朗宁(Robert.Browning） — 我已故的公爵夫人（:My Last Duchess"）
                         
My Last Duchess
Robert Browning 
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive。 I call
That piece a wonder， now: Frà Pandolf's hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will 't please you sit and look at her？ I said
’Frà Pandolf’ by design， for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance，
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me， if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so， not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not
Her husband’s presence only， called that spot
faintOf joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps
Frà Pandolf chanced to say, ’Her mantle laps
Over my lady's wrist too much，’ or 'Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half—flush that dies along her throat：' such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought， and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart -— how shall I say？ —- too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed； she liked whate'er
She looked on， and her looks went everywhere。
Sir， ’t was all one！ my favour at her breast，
The dropping of the daylight in the West，
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace —- all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least。 She thanked men, —— good! but thanked
Somehow —- I know not how -- as if she ranked
my gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who'd stoop to blame
This sort of trifling？ Even had you skill
In speech -- （which I have not) -- to make your will
Quite clear to such an one， and say, 'Just this
Or that in you disgusts me； here you miss，
Or there exceed the mark’ -- and if she let
Herself be lessoned so， nor plainly set
Her wits to yours， forsooth， and made excuse,
-- E'en then would be some stooping； and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh, sir， she smiled， no doubt，
Whene'er I passed her； but who passed without
Much the same smile？ This grew； I have commands；
Then all smiles stopped together。 There she stands
As if alive. Will ’t please you rise? We'll meet
The company below then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed；
Though his fair daughter's self， as I avowed
At starting， is my object。 Nay， we’ll go
Together down, sir。 Notice Neptune， though，
Taming a sea—horse， thought a rarity，
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me！
我的前公爵夫人
墙上的这幅面是我的前公爵夫人,
看起来就像她活着一样.如今,
我称它为奇迹：潘道夫师的手笔
经一日忙碌，从此她就在此站立。
你愿坐下看看她吗？我有意提起
潘道夫，因为外来的生客（例如你）
凡是见了画中描绘的面容、
那真挚的眼神的深邃和热情，
没有一个不转向我(因为除我外
再没有别人把画上的帘幕拉开），
似乎想问我可是又不大敢问；
是从哪儿来的——这样的眼神？
你并非第一个人回头这样问我。
先生，不仅仅是她丈夫的在座
使公爵夫人面带欢容,可能
潘道夫偶然说过：“夫人的披风
盖住她的手腕太多，"或者说：
“隐约的红晕向颈部渐渐隐没,
这绝非任何颜料所能复制.”
这种无聊话，却被她当成好意，
也足以唤起她的欢心。她那颗心——
怎么说好呢？——要取悦容易得很，
也太易感动.她看到什么都喜欢，
而她的目光又偏爱到处观看.
先生，她对什么都一样！她胸口上
佩戴的我的赠品，或落日的余光；
过分殷勤的傻子在园中攀折
给她的一枝樱桃，或她骑着
绕行花圃的白骡——所有这一切
都会使她同样地赞羡不绝，
或至少泛起红晕.她感激人．好的！
但她的感激（我说不上怎么搞的）
仿佛把我赐她的九百年的门第
与任何人的赠品并列。谁愿意
屈尊去谴责这种轻浮举止？即使
你有口才（我却没有）能把你的意志
给这样的人儿充分说明：“你这点
或那点令我讨厌。这儿你差得远，
而那儿你超越了界限。”即使她肯听
你这样训诫她而毫不争论,
毫不为自己辩解，—-我也觉得
这会有失身份，所以我选择
绝不屈尊。哦，先生，她总是在微笑，
每逢我走过;但是谁人走过得不到
同样慷慨的微笑？发展至此，
我下了令：于是一切微笑都从此制止.
她站在那儿，像活着一样。请你起身
客人们在楼下等。我再重复一声：
你的主人—-伯爵先生闻名的大方
足以充分保证:我对嫁妆
提出任何合理要求都不会遭拒绝；
当然．如我开头声明的,他美貌的小
才是我追求的目标。别客气，让咱们
一同下楼吧.但请看这海神尼普顿
在驯服海马，这是件珍贵的收藏，
是克劳斯为我特制的青铜铸像。
Robert Browning： a famous 19th century (Victorian） British poet， particularly well—known for his early monologue ”My Last Duchess” （《我的已故的公爵夫人》）。 In the poem, a duke speaks about his dead wife. The poem is about murder, mystery and intrigu
e， but all in indirect allusions （暗示）。 Readers may sense that the duke kills his wife or causes her death， but no evidence is shown。 The language of the poem is difficult to understand. The use of dramatic monologue forces readers to work hard to find the meaning behind the duke’s words. When talking about Robert Browning， we have to mention his wife， Elizabeth Barrett Browning。 She was a famous poet, too。 She wrote many sonnets， a type of 14 line poem, the same as Shakespeare did. Elizabeth and her husband Robert had a great love affair, almost like a movie. Browning was six years younger than his wife。 They ran away to Italy to get married。

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