请问有没有人知道英国诗人亚历山大·蒲柏的一首诗《艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德》在哪本书上有出现和收录过？

2023-03-24 23:54| 来源: 网络整理| 查看: 265

“如果爱情本身还存在未知的部分的话，那么我们就去发现它。我们对这些快乐的无知使我们更乐意去追求它们，以至我们对彼此的饥渴从来没有停息过。” —— 彼得·亚伯拉德（Peter Abelard） “我只想要你，而不想要你的任何东西。我既不希求婚姻的契约，也不稀罕婚姻的财产。如你所知，我寻求的不是自己的满足和快乐，而是你的。妻子这个名称也许更神圣、更有约束力，但对我来说，情妇更甜蜜。” —— 艾洛伊斯（Eloisa）

以前没有读过《艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德》这首诗，也不知道关于艾洛伊斯（Eloise）和亚伯拉德（Abelard）的爱情故事，借此机会仔细研究了一下。

目录 1. 师生恋 —— 艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德的爱情故事 2. 英国诗人亚历山大·蒲柏 3. 《Eloisa to Abelard》的中文翻译 4. 英诗原文《Eloisa to Abelard》 5. 英语原文：艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德的情书

1. 师生恋——艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德的爱情故事

这是一个凄婉的、真实的爱情故事。故事发生在十二世纪的法国，亚伯拉德（Peter Abelard，1079年－1142年4月21日）是逍遥学派的学者，法国著名神学家和经院哲学家，一般认为他开创概念论之先河。他曾在巴黎及其他各地学苑巡游演讲，阐述亚里士多德的逻辑。最刚开始的时候，亚伯拉德是教授哲学，后来改为神学，他是首先把哲学与神学融合的经院哲学家之一，他也是中世纪经院哲学一位杰出的哲学家，亚伯拉德很可能是十二世紀最杰出的思想家，但他的一生却充滿了不幸的遭遇。当亚伯拉德担任巴黎圣母院下属天主教学校的负责人期间，爱上他的学生艾洛伊斯（Eloisa）。艾洛伊斯是一位绝世才女，她在修道院长大，十九岁那年就已经掌握了拉丁语、希腊语和希伯来语。亚伯拉德实际上教她的更多是哲学。艾洛伊斯长得并不是很漂亮，是她的才智和他们求知的共同爱好使亚伯拉德与她堕入情网。当时他已将近40岁，而艾洛伊斯只有18岁，亚伯拉德以辅导之名和艾洛伊斯约会，不久，艾洛伊斯就怀孕了，他们在乡下生下了一个男婴，并且秘密结为夫妻。中古时期（中古是指在西方文明史上意指约从公元500年到1500年之间一千年来的欧洲历史）的教会将男女之间的爱与性视为一种罪恶，他们的爱情受到很大限制。当时艾洛伊斯的叔叔正在担任巴黎圣母院的大教士，他知道这个消息后非常生气，于是雇佣了流氓进行报复，将亚伯拉德阉割了。遭受到身体和精神的双重打击后，亚伯拉德选择出家做僧侣，而艾洛伊斯也按照他的意愿做了修女，之后的十年间，俩人就没再联系。几年后，亚伯拉德在修道院中给朋友写了一封名叫《我的灾难人生》（Historia Calamitatum）的长信，劝慰友人，借机讲述了自己的故事。信中有这样一句：“如果爱情本身还存在未知的部分的话，那么我们就去发现它。我们对这些快乐的无知使我们更乐意去追求它们，以至我们对彼此的饥渴从来没有停息过。” 后来信件辗转到了艾洛伊斯的手中，熟悉的文字重新唤醒了她对亚伯拉德一直压抑着的爱。从此，他们便以信件来往，倾诉衷肠。他们一共通了七封信。这些信涉及到一些个人情绪，但更多的是关于爱情、婚姻、精神的一些哲学对话，信中内容都是想试图理解他们之间的悲剧，也期望探讨人性和神的爱。最终，艾洛伊斯感到她的爱在现实世界里根本没有出路，她和亚伯拉德只有死后才能永不分离。艾洛伊斯未能与亚伯拉德常相厮守，过传说中浪漫的日子。然而，她与亚伯拉德一直以兄妹相称，并通过书信神交情聚，为后人留下了优美的文字和感人的情怀。他们的情书让后人在享受那飞扬的文采之余认识到这对师生、情侣、夫妻、兄妹的真挚爱情和高尚情操。在西方，艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德的爱情故事堪比罗密欧与朱丽叶，在蒲柏的书信体诗歌《艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德》里，死亡是最后的和解，就像诗里写的那样，艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德确实是死后才团聚在了一起。他们最后都死在了修道院里。亚伯拉德死于1142 年，艾洛伊斯死于1164年。艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德死后葬在了一起，他们的遗骸后来多次迁移，600 年后（1877年）约瑟芬·波拿巴（拿破仑的妻子）被他们的故事感动了，她命令将亚伯拉德与艾洛伊斯的遗体合葬到巴黎拉雪兹神父公墓陵墓，下图是两人合葬的墓地，至今仍为人所凭吊。

【注】拉雪兹神父公墓，世界上最著名的墓地之一，位于巴黎的第20区。在这里被葬的、在过去200年中为法国做出贡献的名人，每年吸引数十万来访者。许多著名人士长眠于此，如法国最伟大的喜剧作家莫里哀，波兰作曲家及波兰钢琴家肖邦，法国出类拔萃、创作丰沛的小说家巴尔扎克，法国天才的戏剧作曲家、歌剧《卡门》的作者比才, 爱尔兰诗人及剧作家王尔德, 意大利作曲家罗西尼。

2. 英国诗人亚历山大·蒲柏

亚历山大·蒲柏（Alexander Pope），1688年 5月22日出生于伦敦，是18世纪英国最伟大的诗人，杰出的启蒙主义者。他推动英国新古典主义文学发展。亚历山大·蒲柏的一生是不幸的，他从小生病，身体残疾，身高只有1.37米。或许正是因为蒲柏这样的遭遇，才能创造出如此令人动容的诗句。英国诗人蒲伯的朋友 John Hughes 将艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德的爱情故事从法文翻译成为英文，蒲伯因这个爱情的故事感发，而创作出这首书信体诗歌（verse epistle）《Eloisa to Abelard （艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德）》，共366行的长诗，发表于1717年出版的一本名为《The Works of Mr Alexander Pope》的诗集中，后被誉为中世纪最美情书。诗人蒲柏这首《艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德》就是模仿二人口吻，用第一人称写就的一首书信体诗歌，写尽了一种在 “庄严与天性、美德与激情” 之间挣扎的爱。在这首诗中，诗人用大量篇幅描写艾洛伊斯对过去爱情的回忆，想通过一个女性的观点来抒发感情，诗歌的重点是艾洛伊斯述说心中的痛苦。

3. 《Eloisa to Abelard》的中文翻译

还没能找到中文翻译的完整版，继续寻找。下面是一些节选的翻译。

《艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德》（节选）亚历山大·蒲伯在这些孤独简陋的小房间中，有着属于天堂的沉思，和永不停息的忧伤。这样的波澜在修女的心中意味着什么？为什么我的思想无法在这宁静处安息？为什么我的心中感受到遗忘已久的热量？哦，我还在爱！——这爱情来自亚伯拉德，艾洛伊斯一定要亲吻这个名字。

《艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德》（节选）亚历山大·蒲伯

这个多么亲爱和不幸的名字！从来没有被说出来过，从来没有穿越过被神圣的寂静封盖的嘴唇。厚实的伪装把它藏在我的心中，那里有着对上帝的爱，也有对他的爱：哦，我的手啊，别把他写出来——可是他的名字已经出现了——我的泪水啊，快将它洗去！艾洛伊斯所有的哭泣和祈祷都是徒劳，她的心才是主导，她的手只有服从。 …… 纯洁的维斯塔处女是多么快乐！遗忘了世人，也被世人遗忘，美丽的心灵闪烁永恒阳光！每次祈祷都被接受，每个愿望都可以放弃…… （阮一峰译）

《艾洛伊斯致亚伯拉德》（节选）亚历山大·蒲伯

纯洁的维斯塔处子是多么快乐！遗忘了世人，也被世人遗忘。美丽的心灵闪烁永恒阳光！每次祈祷都被接受，每个愿望都可以放弃。

4. 英诗原文《Eloisa to Abelard》by Alexander Pope

In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a vestal's veins? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat? Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came, And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand — the name appears Already written — wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn! Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep, And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep! Though cold like you, unmov'd, and silent grown, I have not yet forgot myself to stone. All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part, Still rebel nature holds out half my heart; Nor pray'rs nor fasts its stubborn pulse restrain, Nor tears, for ages, taught to flow in vain. Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, That well-known name awakens all my woes. Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear! Still breath'd in sighs, still usher'd with a tear. I tremble too, where'er my own I find, Some dire misfortune follows close behind. Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, Led through a sad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now with'ring in thy bloom, Lost in a convent's solitary gloom! There stern religion quench'd th' unwilling flame, There died the best of passions, love and fame. Yet write, oh write me all, that I may join Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine. Nor foes nor fortune take this pow'r away; And is my Abelard less kind than they? Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare, Love but demands what else were shed in pray'r; No happier task these faded eyes pursue; To read and weep is all they now can do. Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief. Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid; They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires, Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires, The virgin's wish without her fears impart, Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart, Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole. Thou know'st how guiltless first I met thy flame, When Love approach'd me under Friendship's name; My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind, Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind. Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry day, Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. Guiltless I gaz'd; heav'n listen'd while you sung; And truths divine came mended from that tongue. From lips like those what precept fail'd to move? Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love. Back through the paths of pleasing sense I ran, Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'd a Man. Dim and remote the joys of saints I see; Nor envy them, that heav'n I lose for thee. How oft, when press'd to marriage, have I said, Curse on all laws but those which love has made! Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies, Let wealth, let honour, wait the wedded dame, August her deed, and sacred be her fame; Before true passion all those views remove, Fame, wealth, and honour! what are you to Love? The jealous God, when we profane his fires, Those restless passions in revenge inspires; And bids them make mistaken mortals groan, Who seek in love for aught but love alone. Should at my feet the world's great master fall, Himself, his throne, his world, I'd scorn 'em all: Not Caesar's empress would I deign to prove; No, make me mistress to the man I love; If there be yet another name more free, More fond than mistress, make me that to thee! Oh happy state! when souls each other draw, When love is liberty, and nature, law: All then is full, possessing, and possess'd, No craving void left aching in the breast: Ev'n thought meets thought, ere from the lips it part, And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart. This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there be) And once the lot of Abelard and me. Alas, how chang'd! what sudden horrors rise! A naked lover bound and bleeding lies! Where, where was Eloise? her voice, her hand, Her poniard, had oppos'd the dire command. Barbarian, stay! that bloody stroke restrain; The crime was common, common be the pain. I can no more; by shame, by rage suppress'd, Let tears, and burning blushes speak the rest. Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day, When victims at yon altar's foot we lay? Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell, When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell? As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil, The shrines all trembl'd, and the lamps grew pale: Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it survey'd, And saints with wonder heard the vows I made. Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew, Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. Come! with thy looks, thy words, relieve my woe; Those still at least are left thee to bestow. Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; Give all thou canst — and let me dream the rest. Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize, With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God. Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy care, Plants of thy hand, and children of thy pray'r. From the false world in early youth they fled, By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. You rais'd these hallow'd walls; the desert smil'd, And Paradise was open'd in the wild. No weeping orphan saw his father's stores Our shrines irradiate, or emblaze the floors; No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n, Here brib'd the rage of ill-requited heav'n: But such plain roofs as piety could raise, And only vocal with the Maker's praise. In these lone walls (their days eternal bound) These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets crown'd, Where awful arches make a noonday night, And the dim windows shed a solemn light; Thy eyes diffus'd a reconciling ray, And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. But now no face divine contentment wears, 'Tis all blank sadness, or continual tears. See how the force of others' pray'rs I try, (O pious fraud of am'rous charity!) But why should I on others' pray'rs depend? Come thou, my father, brother, husband, friend! Ah let thy handmaid, sister, daughter move, And all those tender names in one, thy love! The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclin'd Wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind, The wand'ring streams that shine between the hills, The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, The dying gales that pant upon the trees, The lakes that quiver to the curling breeze; No more these scenes my meditation aid, Or lull to rest the visionary maid. But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence, and a dread repose: Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green, Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods. Yet here for ever, ever must I stay; Sad proof how well a lover can obey! Death, only death, can break the lasting chain; And here, ev'n then, shall my cold dust remain, Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, And wait till 'tis no sin to mix with thine. Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain, Confess'd within the slave of love and man. Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r? Sprung it from piety, or from despair? Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires, Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; I mourn the lover, not lament the fault; I view my crime, but kindle at the view, Repent old pleasures, and solicit new; Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence, Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 'Tis sure the hardest science to forget! How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense, And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence? How the dear object from the crime remove, Or how distinguish penitence from love? Unequal task! a passion to resign, For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine. Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state, How often must it love, how often hate! How often hope, despair, resent, regret, Conceal, disdain — do all things but forget. But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd; Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd! Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue, Renounce my love, my life, myself — and you. Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he Alone can rival, can succeed to thee. How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd; Labour and rest, that equal periods keep; "Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;" Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n, Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n. Grace shines around her with serenest beams, And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams. For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes, For her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring, For her white virgins hymeneals sing, To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away, And melts in visions of eternal day. Far other dreams my erring soul employ, Far other raptures, of unholy joy: When at the close of each sad, sorrowing day, Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd away, Then conscience sleeps, and leaving nature free, All my loose soul unbounded springs to thee. Oh curs'd, dear horrors of all-conscious night! How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight! Provoking Daemons all restraint remove, And stir within me every source of love. I hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy charms, And round thy phantom glue my clasping arms. I wake — no more I hear, no more I view, The phantom flies me, as unkind as you. I call aloud; it hears not what I say; I stretch my empty arms; it glides away. To dream once more I close my willing eyes; Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! Alas, no more — methinks we wand'ring go Through dreary wastes, and weep each other's woe, Where round some mould'ring tower pale ivy creeps, And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps. Sudden you mount, you beckon from the skies; Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds arise. I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect find, And wake to all the griefs I left behind. For thee the fates, severely kind, ordain A cool suspense from pleasure and from pain; Thy life a long, dead calm of fix'd repose; No pulse that riots, and no blood that glows. Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to blow, Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n, And mild as opening gleams of promis'd heav'n. Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to dread? The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. Nature stands check'd; Religion disapproves; Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves. Ah hopeless, lasting flames! like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn. What scenes appear where'er I turn my view? The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue, Rise in the grove, before the altar rise, Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee, Thy image steals between my God and me, Thy voice I seem in ev'ry hymn to hear, With ev'ry bead I drop too soft a tear. When from the censer clouds of fragrance roll, And swelling organs lift the rising soul, One thought of thee puts all the pomp to flight, Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my sight: In seas of flame my plunging soul is drown'd, While altars blaze, and angels tremble round. While prostrate here in humble grief I lie, Kind, virtuous drops just gath'ring in my eye, While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, And dawning grace is op'ning on my soul: Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou art! Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my heart; Come, with one glance of those deluding eyes Blot out each bright idea of the skies; Take back that grace, those sorrows, and those tears; Take back my fruitless penitence and pray'rs; Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest abode; Assist the fiends, and tear me from my God! No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; Rise Alps between us! and whole oceans roll! Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me, Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!) Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu! Oh Grace serene! oh virtue heav'nly fair! Divine oblivion of low-thoughted care! Fresh blooming hope, gay daughter of the sky! And faith, our early immortality! Enter, each mild, each amicable guest; Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest! See in her cell sad Eloisa spread, Propp'd on some tomb, a neighbour of the dead. In each low wind methinks a spirit calls, And more than echoes talk along the walls. Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around, From yonder shrine I heard a hollow sound. "Come, sister, come!" (it said, or seem'd to say) "Thy place is here, sad sister, come away! Once like thyself, I trembled, wept, and pray'd, Love's victim then, though now a sainted maid: But all is calm in this eternal sleep; Here grief forgets to groan, and love to weep, Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear: For God, not man, absolves our frailties here." I come, I come! prepare your roseate bow'rs, Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flow'rs. Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic glow: Thou, Abelard! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day; See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul! Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die. Ah then, thy once-lov'd Eloisa see! It will be then no crime to gaze on me. See from my cheek the transient roses fly! See the last sparkle languish in my eye! Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er; And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. O Death all-eloquent! you only prove What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love. Then too, when fate shall thy fair frame destroy, (That cause of all my guilt, and all my joy) In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be drown'd, Bright clouds descend, and angels watch thee round, From op'ning skies may streaming glories shine, And saints embrace thee with a love like mine. May one kind grave unite each hapless name, And graft my love immortal on thy fame! Then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er, When this rebellious heart shall beat no more; If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs, O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tears each other sheds; Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, "Oh may we never love as these have lov'd!" From the full choir when loud Hosannas rise, And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice, Amid that scene if some relenting eye Glance on the stone where our cold relics lie, Devotion's self shall steal a thought from Heav'n, One human tear shall drop and be forgiv'n. And sure, if fate some future bard shall join In sad similitude of griefs to mine, Condemn'd whole years in absence to deplore, And image charms he must behold no more; Such if there be, who loves so long, so well; Let him our sad, our tender story tell; The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive ghost; He best can paint 'em, who shall feel 'em most.

5. 英语原文：艾洛伊斯和亚伯拉德的情书

目录 1）第一封书信：Abelard to Philintus 2）第二封书信：Heloise to Abelard 3）第三封书信：Abelard to Heloise 4）第四封书信：Heloise to Abelard 5）第五封书信：Heloise to Abelard 6）第六封书信：Abelard to Heloise

1）第一封书信：Abelard to Philintus

THE last time we were together, Philintus, you gave me a melancholy account of your misfortunes; I was sensibly touched with the relation, and like a true friend bore a share in your griefs. What did I not say to stop your tears?

继续书信全文：Letter I.--Abelard to Philintus

2）第二封书信：Heloise to Abelard

A CONSOLATORY letter of yours to a friend happened some days since to fall into my hands; my knowledge of the writing and my love of the hand gave me the curiosity to open it. In justification of the liberty I took, I flattered myself I might claim a sovereign privilege over everything which came from you. Nor was I scrupulous to break through the rules of good breeding when I was to hear news of Abelard. But how dear did my curiosity cost me!

继续书信全文：Letter II.--Heloise to Abelard

Letter III. Abelard to HeloiseLetter IV.--Heloise to AbelardLetter V.--Heloise to AbelardLetter VI. Abelard to Heloise

参考资料

—— 片名背后的故事- 暖暖内含光

—— 暧暧内含光（美丽心灵的永恒阳光）

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