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lavengro-第42部分

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principal meal; I; being the youngest; was left to take care of the 

premises; to answer the bell; and so forth; till relieved; which 

was seldom before the expiration of an hour and a half; when I 

myself went home; this period; however; was anything but 

disagreeable to me; for it was then that I did what best pleased 

me; and; leaving off copying the documents; I sometimes indulged in 

a fit of musing; my chin resting on both my hands; and my elbows 

planted on the desk; or; opening the desk aforesaid; I would take 

out one of the books contained within it; and the book which I took 

out was almost invariably; not Blackstone; but Ab Gwilym。



Ah; that Ab Gwilym!  I am much indebted to him; and it were 

ungrateful on my part not to devote a few lines to him and his 

songs in this my history。  Start not; reader; I am not going to 

trouble you with a poetical dissertation; no; no; I know my duty 

too well to introduce anything of the kind; but I; who imagine I 

know several things; and amongst others the workings of your mind 

at this moment; have an idea that you are anxious to learn a 

little; a very little; more about Ab Gwilym than I have hitherto 

told you; the two or three words that I have dropped having 

awakened within you a languid kind of curiosity。  I have no 

hesitation in saying that he makes one of the some half…dozen 

really great poets whose verses; in whatever language they wrote; 

exist at the present day; and are more or less known。  It matters 

little how I first became acquainted with the writings of this man; 

and how the short thick volume; stuffed full with his immortal 

imaginings; first came into my hands。  I was studying Welsh; and I 

fell in with Ab Gwilym by no very strange chance。  But; before I 

say more about Ab Gwilym; I must be permitted … I really must … to 

say a word or two about the language in which he wrote; that same 

'Sweet Welsh。'  If I remember right; I found the language a 

difficult one; in mastering it; however; I derived unexpected 

assistance from what of Irish remained in my head; and I soon found 

that they were cognate dialects; springing from some old tongue 

which itself; perhaps; had sprung from one much older。  And here I 

cannot help observing cursorily that I every now and then; whilst 

studying this Welsh; generally supposed to be the original tongue 

of Britain; encountered words which; according to the 

lexicographers; were venerable words highly expressive; showing the 

wonderful power and originality of the Welsh; in which; however; 

they were no longer used in common discourse; but were relics; 

precious relics; of the first speech of Britain; perhaps of the 

world; with which words; however; I was already well acquainted; 

and which I had picked up; not in learned books; classic books; and 

in tongues of old renown; but whilst listening to Mr。 Petulengro 

and Tawno Chikno talking over their everyday affairs in the 

language of the tents; which circumstance did not fail to give rise 

to deep reflection in those moments when; planting my elbows on the 

deal desk; I rested my chin upon my hands。  But it is probable that 

I should have abandoned the pursuit of the Welsh language; after 

obtaining a very superficial acquaintance with it; had it not been 

for Ab Gwilym。



A strange songster was that who; pretending to be captivated by 

every woman he saw; was; in reality; in love with nature alone … 

wild; beautiful; solitary nature … her mountains and cascades; her 

forests and streams; her birds; fishes; and wild animals。  Go to; 

Ab Gwilym; with thy pseudo…amatory odes; to Morfydd; or this or 

that other lady; fair or ugly; little didst thou care for any of 

them; Dame Nature was thy love; however thou mayest seek to 

disguise the truth。  Yes; yes; send thy love…message to Morfydd; 

the fair wanton。  By whom dost thou send it; I would know? by the 

salmon forsooth; which haunts the rushing stream! the glorious 

salmon which bounds and gambols in the flashing water; and whose 

ways and circumstances thou so well describest … see; there he 

hurries upwards through the flashing water。  Halloo! what a glimpse 

of glory … but where is Morfydd the while?  What; another message 

to the wife of Bwa Bach?  Ay; truly; and by whom? … the wind! the 

swift wind; the rider of the world; whose course is not to be 

stayed; who gallops o'er the mountain; and; when he comes to 

broadest river; asks neither for boat nor ferry; who has described 

the wind so well … his speed and power?  But where is Morfydd?  And 

now thou art awaiting Morfydd; the wanton; the wife of the Bwa 

Bach; thou art awaiting her beneath the tall trees; amidst the 

underwood; but she comes not; no Morfydd is there。  Quite right; Ab 

Gwilym; what wantest thou with Morfydd? But another form is nigh at 

hand; that of red Reynard; who; seated upon his chine at the mouth 

of his cave; looks very composedly at thee; thou startest; bendest 

thy bow; thy cross…bow; intending to hit Reynard with the bolt just 

about the jaw; but the bow breaks; Reynard barks and disappears 

into his cave; which by thine own account reaches hell … and then 

thou ravest at the misfortune of thy bow; and the non…appearance of 

Morfydd; and abusest Reynard。  Go to; thou carest neither for thy 

bow nor for Morfydd; thou merely seekest an opportunity to speak of 

Reynard; and who has described him like thee? the brute with the 

sharp shrill cry; the black reverse of melody; whose face sometimes 

wears a smile like the devil's in the Evangile。  But now thou art 

actually with Morfydd; yes; she has stolen from the dwelling of the 

Bwa Bach and has met thee beneath those rocks … she is actually 

with thee; Ab Gwilym; but she is not long with thee; for a storm 

comes on; and thunder shatters the rocks … Morfydd flees!  Quite 

right; Ab Gwilym; thou hadst no need of her; a better theme for 

song is the voice of the Lord … the rock…shatterer … than the frail 

wife of the Bwa Bach。  Go to; Ab Gwilym; thou wast a wiser and a 

better man than thou wouldst fain have had people believe。



But enough of thee and thy songs!  Those times passed rapidly; with 

Ab Gwilym in my hand; I was in the midst of enchanted ground; in 

which I experienced sensations akin to those I had felt of yore 

whilst spelling my way through the wonderful book … the delight of 

my childhood。  I say akin; for perhaps only once in our lives do we 

experience unmixed wonder and delight; and these I had already 

known。







CHAPTER XX







Silver gray … Good word for everybody … A remarkable youth … 

Clients … Grades in society … The archdeacon … Reading the Bible。



'I AM afraid that I have not acted very wisely in putting this boy 

of ours to the law;' said my father to my mother; as they sat 

together one summer evening in their little garden; beneath the 

shade of some tall poplars。



Yes; there sat my father in the garden chair which leaned 
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