名人诗歌|Fabien Dei Franchi

Fabien Dei Franchi

（To my Friend Henry Irving）

The silent room， the heavy creeping shade，

The dead that travel fast， the opening door，

The murdered brother rising through the floor，

The ghost's white fingers on thy shoulders laid，

And then the lonely duel^{1 in the glade2，}

The broken swords， the stifled^{3 scream， the gore4，}

Thy grand revengeful eyes when all is o'er， -

These things are well enough， - but thou wert made

For more august creation！ frenzied^{5 Lear}

Should at thy bidding wander on the heath

With the shrill^{6 fool to mock him， Romeo}

For thee should lure^{7 his love， and desperate fear}

Pluck Richard's recreant^{8 dagger9 from its sheath -}

Thou trumpet^{10 set for Shakespeare's lips to blow！}