Thomas Hardy夫婦(his first wife, Emma Gifford), 的 BEENY CLIFF (March 1870-March 1913)， 2008，

2月27日清晨無意中讀到 Hardy著名的情詩 BEENY CLIFF (March 1870-March 1913) --詳後 趕緊從溫州街回辦公室上網 這些在中日文的網頁都有"論文" 不過我想還是錄兩英文網頁當參考

2月27日清晨無意中讀到 Hardy著名的情詩 BEENY CLIFF(March 1870-March 1913) --詳後 趕緊從溫州街回辦公室上網 這些在中日文的網頁都有"論文" 不過我想還是錄兩英文網頁當參考BEENY CLIFF(March 1870-March 1913) 2008

有一中文網頁：「想起了好些年前我讀過的一首詩，Thomas Hardy的《Beeny Cliff》，那時我應該還在初中，還是個小朋友。《槽邊往事》---比特海日誌» Blog Archive » Beeny Cliff」它有一留言：「不得不占的沙發 可惜是英文 我不會 」

我想初中生應該是讀翻譯本（除非他真的…….）

「在《比尼崖》(Beeny Cliff)中,哈代描述了四十年前他同愛瑪一起訪遊比尼崖的情景:

“啊,西部大海上蛋乳石般的白浪,/

藍寶石般的碧波,/

一位女人騎著馬,/

秀髮飄風,

矗立在懸崖處, /

那是我深深愛的女人,/

她也深深地愛著我。” 

這是《比尼崖》的第一節。使用“蛋乳石”和“藍寶石”這樣華麗的辭藻來形容波浪的顏色在哈代詩歌中並不多見,這足以說明當年的情景給哈代留下了多麼深刻的 印象。這一美妙的時刻不僅在哈代的腦海中歷歷在目,而且在愛瑪的心中也久久難以忘懷。愛瑪在臨終前時常回憶起她與哈代相見的情景以及他們訪遊的經歷,並對 當時美妙的時光充滿了眷戀之情。“幾乎沒有一個作家和他的妻子有過如此浪漫的幽會。”」

上述颜学军的翻譯似乎失真很多（他參考[14]飞白,吴笛译.梦幻时刻——哈代抒情诗选. 北京:中国文联出版社,1992年. ；[15]王佐良主编. 英国诗选[M].上海译文出版社,1988年.）。主要是完成不顧原詩的音樂和形式：

《比尼賢懸崖》（劉新民譯， pp.233-34）

:“啊,碧波蕩漾的西海邊，蛋白石、藍寶石晶瑩，

有女子金髮飄飛，騎馬立於高高的厓頂，

我對她十分鍾情，她對我也愛得真摯忠誠。

白色海毆在我們下方悲鳴，雲空下的波濤

彷彿在遠方，正忙於他們永不休止的絮叨，

陽光明媚的三月天，高高山崖上響起我們的歡笑。

隨即一團雲把我們圍裹，灑落一陣彩虹雨，

大西洋上如濛上不相協調的斑駁污跡，

但太陽很快又破雲而出，往海面上鍍一層[金紫。

----古老的比尼懸崖高聳雲天，它那奇觀美景未變，

那個三月天我們所見的景象不久便會重現，

如今三月又近，我和她何不再去那兒登臨一番？

臨海聳立的懸崖上，奇觀美景未變，

可那騎馬緩行的女子，如今已---在別處長眠，

再無法登臨比尼懸崖，並在崖頂歡笑，長令我心惘然！

Thomas and Emma: Poems by Thomas Hardy about his Cornish wife, Emma Gifford

Thomas Hardy met his first wife, Emma Gifford, while he was working as an architect on St. Juliot's church, just outside Boscastle on the North Cornwall Coast. They were married in 1874 and she died in 1912. Hardy wrote several poems about their first meeting and about their marriage, most of these poems were written in the years immediately after her death. In the poems, Hardy disguises some place names as was his habit, although others remain as they were. St. Juliot and Beeny Cliff are real places near Boscastle. Castle Boterel refers to Boscastle itself, while Lyonesse is the name of the mythical land of ancient Cornwall. I have included four of Hardy's poems on this page, all of which relate Cornwall with Emma Gifford in some way, although he also wrote many poems that refer to Cornwall in other ways.

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"A Dream or No" Why go to Saint-Juliot? What's Juliot to me? I've been but made fancy By some necromancy That much of my life claims the spot as its key. Yes. I have had dreams of that place in the West, And a maiden abiding Thereat as in hiding; Fair-eyed and white-shouldered, broad-browed and brown-tressed. And of how, coastward bound on a night long ago, There lonely I found her, The sea-birds around her, And other than nigh things uncaring to know. So sweet her life there (in my thought has it seemed) That quickly she drew me To take her unto me, And lodge her long years with me. Such have I dreamed. But nought of that maid from Saint-Juliot I see; Can she ever have been here, And shed her life's sheen here, The woman I thought a long housemate with me? Does there even a place like Saint-Juliot exist? Or a Vallency Valley With stream and leafed alley, Or Beeny, or Bos with its flounce flinging mist? February 1913 "At Castle Boterel" As I drive to the junction of lane and highway, And the drizzle bedrenches the waggonette, I look behind at the fading byway, And see on its slope, now glistening wet, Distinctly yet Myself and a girlish form benighted In dry March weather. We climb the road Beside a chaise. We had just alighted To ease the sturdy pony's load When he sighed and slowed. What we did as we climbed, and what we talked of Matters not much, nor to what it led,— Something that life will not be balked of Without rude reason till hope is dead, And feeling fled. It filled but a minute. But was there ever A time of such quality, since or before, In that hill's story? To one mind never, Though it has been climbed, foot-swift, foot-sore, By thousands more. Primaeval rocks form the road's steep border, And much have they faced there, first and last, Of the transitory in Earth's long order; But what they record in colour and cast Is—that we two passed. And to me, though Time's unflinching rigour, In mindless rote, has ruled from sight The substance now, one phantom figure Remains on the slope, as when that night Saw us alight. I look and see it there, shrinking, shrinking, I look back at it amid the rain For the very last time; for my sand is sinking, And I shall traverse old love's domain Never again. March 1913 "Beeny Cliff March 1870 - March 1913" I O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea, And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free— The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me. II The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say, As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day. III A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain, And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain, And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main. IV —Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky, And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh, And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by? V Nay. Though still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore, The woman now is—elsewhere—whom the ambling pony bore, And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will see it nevermore. "When I Set Out for Lyonnesse" When I set out for Lyonnesse, A hundred miles away, The rime was on the spray, And starlight lit my lonesomeness When I set out for Lyonnesse A hundred miles away. What would bechance at Lyonnesse While I should sojourn there No prophet durst declare, Nor did the wisest wizard guess What would bechance at Lyonnesse While I should sojourn there. When I came back from Lyonnesse With magic in my eyes, All marked with mute surmise My radiance rare and fathomless, When I came back from Lyonnesse With magic in my eyes!

BEENY CLIFF (March 1870-March 1913)

I O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea, And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free-- The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.

II The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say, As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.

III A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain, And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain, And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.

IV --Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky, And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh, And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?

V What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore, The woman now is-elsewhere-whom the ambling pony bore, And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore. "Beeny Cliff" Photograph © JoAnna Mink, 1991 (to return to page, click here.)

Two Poems by Thomas Hardy

[After his wife Emma died, Hardy wrote "She Opened the Door" as a commemoration of their romance and the natural places which were special to them. The second poem, "Beeny Cliff," is a remembrance of one such site that he and Emma had visited, as the poem's subtitle (March 1870-March 1913) indicates. This page created for English 465 by Lisa Howe and Glenn Everett.]

"SHE OPENED THE DOOR" She opened the door of the West to me, With its loud sea-lashings, And cliff-side clashings Of waters rife with revelry. She opened the door of Romance to me, The door from a cell I had known too well, Too long, till then, and was fain to flee. She opened the door of a Love to me, That passed the wry World-welters by As far as the arching blue the lea. She opens the door of the Past to me, Its magic lights, Its heavenly heights, When forward little is to see! 1913--