Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap,

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,

The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

嶙峋榆树下，紫杉投影暗，

堆堆腐朽上，草皮波浪翻，

各有狭窄间，永远躺里面，

小村粗鄙祖，其中享安眠。

The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,

The swallow twitt'ring from the straw-built shed,

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

清晨呼吸甜，微风轻轻唤，

草泥窝巢边，燕子声呢喃，

雄鸡嘹亮啼，猎人号角喧，

地下床上人，不可使其站。

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,

Or busy housewife ply her evening care:

No children run to lisp their sire's return,

Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

熊熊壁炉火，不再为其燃，

傍晚无家妇，忙碌弄衣饭，

亦无子女跑，咬舌念父返，

为得久盼吻，纷纷膝上攀。

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:

【《墓地挽歌》by Thomas Gray】相关文章：

★ Watch the world go by与世界擦身而过

★ 生命可以是一座玫瑰花园

★ 经典爱情箴言2

★ I will persist until I succeed 1

★ Kiss in a Box

★ Be still 片刻停留，片刻自我

★ 挪威的森林

★ 林中漫步

★ 美文欣赏：海边漫步

★ 英语美文：What is immortal