the sorrows of young werther(少年维特的烦恼)-第19章

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Charlotte：

〃You　do　not　expect　me。　　You　think　I　will　obey　you；　and　not　visit
you　again　till　Christmas　Eve。　　O　Charlotte；　today　or　never！　　On
Christmas　Eve　you　will　hold　this　paper　in　your　hand；　you　will
tremble；　and　moisten　it　with　your　tears。　　I　will　　I　must！　　Oh；　how
happy　I　feel　to　be　determined！〃

In　the　meantime；　Charlotte　was　in　a　pitiable　state　of　mind。　　After
her　last　conversation　with　Werther；　she　found　how　painful　to　herself
it　would　be　to　decline　his　visits；　and　knew　how　severely　he　would
suffer　from　their　separation。

She　had；　in　conversation　with　Albert；　mentioned　casually　that　Werther
would　not　return　before　Christmas　Eve；　and　soon　afterward　Albert
went　on　horseback　to　see　a　person　in　the　neighbourhood；　with　whom
he　had　to　transact　some　business　which　would　detain　him　all　night。

Charlotte　was　sitting　alone。　　None　of　her　family　were　near；　and
she　gave　herself　up　to　the　reflections　that　silently　took　possession
of　her　mind。　　She　was　for　ever　united　to　a　husband　whose　love　and
fidelity　she　had　proved；　to　whom　she　was　heartily　devoted；　and　who
seemed　to　be　a　special　gift　from　Heaven　to　ensure　her　happiness。
On　the　other　hand；　Werther　had　become　dear　to　her。　　There　was　a
cordial　unanimity　of　sentiment　between　them　from　the　very　first
hour　of　their　acquaintance；　and　their　long　association　and　repeated
interviews　had　made　an　indelible　impression　upon　her　heart。　　She
had　been　accustomed　to　communicate　to　him　every　thought　and　feeling
which　interested　her；　and　his　absence　threatened　to　open　a　void
in　her　existence　which　it　might　be　impossible　to　fill。　　How　heartily
she　wished　that　she　might　change　him　into　her　brother；　　that　she
could　induce　him　to　marry　one　of　her　own　friends；　or　could　reestablish
his　intimacy　with　Albert。

She　passed　all　her　intimate　friends　in　review　before　her　mind；　but
found　something　objectionable　in　each；　and　could　decide　upon　none
to　whom　she　would　consent　to　give　him。

Amid　all　these　considerations　she　felt　deeply　but　indistinctly
that　her　own　real　but　unexpressed　wish　was　to　retain　him　for　herself；
and　her　pure　and　amiable　heart　felt　from　this　thought　a　sense　of
oppression　which　seemed　to　forbid　a　prospect　of　happiness。　　She
was　wretched：　a　dark　cloud　obscured　her　mental　vision。

It　was　now　half…past　six　o'clock；　and　she　heard　Werther's　step　on
the　stairs。　　She　at　once　recognised　his　voice；　as　he　inquired　if
she　were　at　home。　　Her　heart　beat　audibly　　we　could　almost　say
for　the　first　time　　at　his　arrival。　　It　was　too　late　to　deny
herself；　and；　as　he　entered；　she　exclaimed；　with　a　sort　of　ill
concealed　confusion；　〃You　have　not　kept　your　word！〃　　〃I　promised
nothing；〃　he　answered。　　〃But　you　should　have　complied；　at　least
for　my　sake；〃　she　continued。　〃　I　implore　you；　for　both　our　sakes。〃

She　scarcely　knew　what　she　said　or　did；　and　sent　for　some　friends；
who；　by　their　presence；　might　prevent　her　being　left　alone　with
Werther。　　He　put　down　some　books　he　had　brought　with　him；　then
made　inquiries　about　some　others；　until　she　began　to　hope　that　her
friends　might　arrive　shortly；　entertaining　at　the　same　time　a
desire　that　they　might　stay　away。

At　one　moment　she　felt　anxious　that　the　servant　should　remain　in
the　adjoining　room；　then　she　changed　her　mind。　　Werther；　meanwhile；
walked　impatiently　up　and　down。　　She　went　to　the　piano；　and
determined　not　to　retire。　　She　then　collected　her　thoughts；　and
sat　down　quietly　at　Werther's　side；　who　had　taken　his　usual　place
on　the　sofa。

〃Have　you　brought　nothing　to　read？〃　she　inquired。　　He　had　nothing。
〃There　in　my　drawer；〃　she　continued；　〃you　will　find　your　own
translation　of　some　of　the　songs　of　Ossian。　　I　have　not　yet　read
them；　as　I　have　still　hoped　to　hear　you　recite　them；　but；　for　some
time　past；　I　have　not　been　able　to　accomplish　such　a　wish。〃　　He
smiled；　and　went　for　the　manuscript；　which　he　took　with　a　shudder。
He　sat　down；　and；　with　eyes　full　of　tears；　he　began　to　read。

〃Star　of　descending　night！　fair　is　thy　light　in　the　west！　thou
liftest　thy　unshorn　head　from　thy　cloud；　thy　steps　are　stately　on
thy　hill。　　What　dost　thou　behold　in　the　plain？　　The　stormy　winds
are　laid。　　The　murmur　of　the　torrent　comes　from　afar。　　Roaring
waves　climb　the　distant　rock。　　The　flies　of　evening　are　on　their
feeble　wings：　the　hum　of　their　course　is　on　the　field。　　What　dost
thou　behold；　fair　light？　　But　thou　dost　smile　and　depart。　　The
waves　come　with　joy　around　thee：　they　bathe　thy　lovely　hair。
Farewell；　thou　silent　beam！　　Let　the　light　of　Ossian's　soul　arise！

〃And　it　does　arise　in　its　strength！　　I　behold　my　departed　friends。
Their　gathering　is　on　Lora；　as　in　the　days　of　other　years。　　Fingal
comes　like　a　watery　column　of　mist！　his　heroes　are　around：　and
see　the　bards　of　song；　gray…haired　Ullin！　stately　Ryno！　Alpin　with
the　tuneful　voice：　the　soft　complaint　of　Minona！　　How　are　ye　changed；
my　friends；　since　the　days　of　Selma's　feast！　when　we　contended；
like　gales　of　spring　as　they　fly　along　the　hill；　and　bend　by　turns
the　feebly　whistling　grass。

〃Minona　came　forth　in　her　beauty；　with　downcast　look　and　tearful
eye。　　Her　hair　was　flying　slowly　with　the　blast　that　rushed
unfrequent　from　the　hill。　　The　souls　of　the　heroes　were　sad　when
she　raised　the　tuneful　voice。　　Oft　had　they　seen　the　grave　of
Salgar；　the　dark　dwelling　of　white…bosomed　Colma。　　Colma　left　alone
on　the　hill　with　all　her　voice　of　song！　　Salgar　promised　to　come！
but　the　night　descended　around。　　Hear　the　voice　of　Colma；　when　she
sat　alone　on　the　hill！

〃Colma。　　It　is　night：　I　am　alone；　forlorn　on　the　hill　of　storms。
The　wind　is　heard　on　the　mountain。　　The　torrent　is　howling　down
the　rock。　　No　hut　receives　me　from　the　rain：　forlorn　on　the　hill
of　winds！

〃Rise　moon！　from　behind　thy　clouds。　　Stars　of　the　night；　arise！
Lead　me；　some　light；　to　the　place　where　my　love　rests　from　the
chase　alone！　　His　bow　near　him　unstrung；　his　dogs　panting　around
him！　　But　here　I　must　sit　alone　by　the　rock　of　the　mossy　stream。
The　stream　and　the　wind　roar　aloud。　　I　hear　not　the　voice　of　my
love！　　Why　delays　my　Salgar；　why　the　chief　of　the　hill　his　promise？
Here　is　the　rock　and　here　the　tree！　here　is　the　roaring　stream！
Thou　didst　promise　with　night　to　be　here。　　Ah！　whither　is　my　Salgar
gone？　　With　thee　I　would　fly　from　my　father；　with　thee　from　my
brother　of　pride。　　Our　race　have　long　been　foes：　we　are　not　foes；
O　Salgar！

〃Cease　a　little　while；　O　wind！　stream；　be　thou　silent　awhile！　let
my　voice　be　heard　around！　let　my　wanderer　hear　me！　　Salgar！　it　is
Colma　who　calls。　　Here　is　the　tree　and　the　rock。　　Salgar；　my　love；
I　am　here！　　Why　delayest　thou　thy　coming？　　Lo！　the　calm　moon　comes
forth。　　The　flood　is　bright　in　the　vale。　　The　rocks　are　gray　on
the　steep。　　I　see　him　not　on　the　brow。　　His　dogs　come　not　before
him　with　tidings　of　his　near　approach。　　Here　I　must　sit　alone！

〃Who　lie　on　the　heath　beside　me？　　Are　they　my　love　and　my　brother？
Speak　to　me；　O　my　friends！　　To　Colma　they　give　no　reply。　　Speak
to　me：　I　am　alone！　　My　soul　is　tormented　with　fears。　　Ah；　they　are
dead！　　Their　swords　are　red　from　the　fight。　　O　my　brother！　my
brother！　why　hast　thou　slain　my　Salgar！　　Why；　O　Salgar；　hast　thou
slain　my　brother！　　Dear　were　ye　both　to　me！　what　shall　I　say　in
your　praise？　　Thou　wert　fair　on　the　hill　among　thousands！　he　was
terrible　in　fight！　　Speak　to　me！　hear　my　voice！　hear　me；　sons　of
my　love！　　They　are　silent！　silent　for　ever！　　Cold；　cold；　are　their
breasts　of　clay！　　Oh；　from　the　rock　on　the　hill；　from　the　top　of
the　windy　steep；　speak；　ye　ghosts　of　the　dead！　　Speak；　I　will　not
be　afraid！　　Whither　are　ye　gone　to　rest？　　In　what　cave　of　the　hill
shall　I　find　the　departed？　　No　feeble　voice　is　on　the　gale：　no
answer　half　drowned　in　the　storm！

〃I　sit　in　my　grief：　I　wait　for　morning　in　my　tears！　　Rear　the　tomb；
ye　friends　of　the　dead。　　Close　it　not　till　Colma　come。　　My　life
flies　away　like　a　dream。　　Why　should　I　stay　behind？　　Here　shall　I
rest　with　my　friends；　by　the　stream　of　the　sounding　rock。　　When
night　comes　on　the　hill　when　the　loud　winds　arise　my　ghost　shall
stand　in　the　blast；　and　mourn　the　death　of　my　friends。　　The　hunter
shall　hear　from　his　booth；　he　shall　fear；　but　love　my　voice！　　For
sweet　shall　my　voice　be　for　my　friends：　pleasant　were　her　friends　
to　Colma。

〃Such　was　thy　song；　Minona；　softly　blushing　daughter　of　Torman。
Our　tears　descended　for　Colma；　and　our　souls　were　sad！　　Ullin　came
with　his　harp；　he　gave　the　song　of　Alpin。　　The　voice　of　Alpin　was
pleasant；　the　soul　of　Ryno　was　a　beam　of　fire！　　But　they　had　rested
in　the　narrow　house：　their　voice　had　ceased　in　Selma！　　Ullin　had
returned　one　day　from　the　chase　before　the　heroes　fell。　　He　heard
their　strife　on　the　hill：　their　song　was　soft；　but　sad！　　They
mourned　the　fall　of　Morar；　first　of　mortal　men！　　His　soul　was　like
the　soul　of　Fingal：　his　sword　like　the　sword　of　Oscar。　　But　he
fell；　and　his　father　mourned：　his　sister's　eyes　were　full　of　tears。
Minona's　eyes　were　full　of　tears；　the　sister　of　car…borne　Morar。
She　retired　from　the　song　of　Ullin；　like　the　moon　in　the　west；
when　she　foresees　the　shower；　and　hides　her　fair　head　in　a　cloud。
I　touched　the　harp　with　Ullin：　the　song　of　morning　rose！

〃Ryno。　　The　wind　and　the　rain　are　past；　calm　is　the　noon　of　day。
The　clouds　are　divided　in　heaven。　　Over　the　green　hills　flies　the
inconstant　sun。　　Red　through　the　stony　vale　comes　down　the　stream
of　the　hill。　　Sweet　are　thy　murmurs；　O　stream！　but　more　sweet　is
the　voice　I　hear。　　It　is　the　voice　of　Alpin；　the　son　of　song；
mourning　for　the　dead！　　Bent　is　his　head　of　age：　red　his　tearful
eye。　　Alpin；　thou　son　of　song；　why　alone　on　the　silent　hill？　why
complainest　thou；　as　a　blast　in　the　wood　as　a　wave　on　the　lonely
shore？

〃Alpin。　　My　tears；　O　Ryno！　are　for　the　dead　my　voice　for　those
that　have　passed　away。　　Tall　thou　art　on　the　hill；　fair　among　the
sons　of　the　vale。　　But　thou　shalt　fall　like　Morar：　the　mourner
shall　sit　on　thy　tomb。　　The　hills　shall　know　thee　no　more：　thy　bow
shall　lie　in　thy　hall　unstrung！

〃Thou　wert　swift；　O　Morar！　as　a　roe　on　the　desert：　terrible　as　a
meteor　of　fire。　　Thy　wrath　was　as　the　storm。　　Thy　sword　in　battle
as　lightning　in　the　field。　　Thy　voice　was　as　a　stream　after　rain；
like　thunder　on　distant　hills。　　Many　fell　by　thy　arm：　they　were
consumed　in　the　flames　of　thy　wrath。　　But　when　thou　didst　return
from　war；　how　peaceful　was　thy　brow。　　Thy　face　was　like　the　sun
after　rain：　like　the　moon　in　the　silence　of　night：　calm　as　the
breast　of　the　lake　when　the　loud　wind　is　laid。

〃Narrow　is　thy　dwelling　now！　dark　the　place　of　thine　abode！　　With
three　steps　I　compass　thy　grave；　O　thou　who　wast　so　great　before！
Four　stones；　with　their　heads　of　moss；　are　the　only　memorial　of
thee。　　A　tree　with　scarce　a　leaf；　long　grass　which　whistles　in　the
wind；　mark　to　the　hunter's　eye　the　grave　of　the　mighty　Morar。
Morar！　thou　art　low　indeed。　　Thou　hast　no　mother　to　mourn　thee；
no　maid　with　her　tears　of　love。　　Dead　is　she　that　brought　thee
forth。　　Fallen　is　the　daughter　of　Morglan。

〃Who　on　his　staff　is　this？　　Who　is　this　whose　head　is　white　with
age；　whose　eyes　are　red　with　tears；　who　quakes　at　every　step？　　It
is　thy　father；　O　Morar！　the　father　of　no　son　but　thee。　　He　heard
of　thy　fame　in　war；　he　hear