第172章
《安徒生童话英文版 全TXT版》章节:第172章,宠文网网友提供全文无弹窗免费在线阅读。!
There's that man can lie down in his warm bed, but he doesnot do so. There he goes pacing up and down the room. He ought to be ahappy man. He has neither wife nor children, and he goes out intocompany every evening. Oh, I wish I were he; then I should be ahappy man."
As he uttered this wish, the goloshes which he had put on tookeffect, and the watchman at once became the lieutenant. There he stoodin his room, holding a little piece of pink paper between his fingers,on which was a poem,- a poem written by the lieutenant himself. Whohas not had, for once in his life, a moment of poetic inspiration? andat such a moment, if the thoughts are written down, they flow inpoetry. The following verses were written on the pink paper:-
"OH WERE I RICH!
"Oh were I rich! How oft, in youth's bright hour,
When youthful pleasures banish every care,
I longed for riches but to gain a power,
The sword and plume and uniform to wear!
The riches and the honor came for me;
Yet still my greatest wealth was poverty:
Ah, help and pity me!
"Once in my youthful hours, when gay and free,
A maiden loved me; and her gentle kiss,
Rich in its tender love and purity,
Taught me, alas! too much of earthly bliss.
Dear child! She only thought of youthful glee;
She loved no wealth, but fairy tales and me.
Thou knowest: ah, pity me!
"Oh were I rich! again is all my prayer:
That child is now a woman, fair and free,
As good and beautiful as angels are.
Oh, were I rich in lovers' poetry,
To tell my fairy tale, love's richest lore!
But no; I must be silent- I am poor.
Ah, wilt thou pity me?
"Oh were I rich in truth and peace below,
I need not then my poverty bewail.
To thee I dedicate these lines of woe;
Wilt thou not understand the mournful tale?
A leaf on which my sorrows I relate-
Dark story of a darker night of fate.
Ah, bless and pity me!"
"Well, yes; people write poems when they are in love, but a wiseman will not print them. A lieutenant in love, and poor. This is atriangle, or more properly speaking, the half of the broken die offortune." The lieutenant felt this very keenly, and therefore leanedhis head against the window-frame, and sighed deeply. "The poorwatchman in the street," said he, "is far happier than I am. Heknows not what I call poverty. He has a home, a wife and children, whoweep at his sorrow and rejoice at his joy. Oh, how much happier Ishould be could I change my being and position with him, and passthrough life with his humble expectations and hopes! Yes, he is indeedhappier than I am."
At this moment the watchman again became a watchman; for having,through the goloshes of Fortune, passed into the existence of thelieutenant, and found himself less contented than he expected, hehad preferred his former condition, and wished himself again awatchman. "That was an ugly dream," said he, "but droll enough. Itseemed to me as if I were the lieutenant up yonder, but there was nohappiness for me. I missed my wife and the little ones, who are alwaysready to smother me with kisses." He sat down again and nodded, but hecould not get the dream out of his thoughts, and he still had thegoloshes on his feet. A falling star gleamed across the sky. "Theregoes one!" cried he. "However, there are quite enough left; I shouldvery much like to examine these a little nearer, especially themoon, for that could not slip away under one's hands. The student, forwhom my wife washes, says that when we die we shall fly from onestar to another. If that were true, it would be very delightful, but Idon't believe it. I wish I could make a little spring up there now;I would willingly let my body lie here on the steps."
There are certain things in the world which should be uttered verycautiously; doubly so when the speaker has on his feet the goloshes ofFortune. Now we shall hear what happened to the watchman.
Nearly every one is acquainted with the great power of steam; wehave proved it by the rapidity with which we can travel, both on arailroad or in a steamship across the sea. But this speed is likethe movements of the sloth, or the crawling march of the snail, whencompared to the swiftness with which light travels; light fliesnineteen million times faster than the fleetest race-horse, andelectricity is more rapid still. Death is an electric shock which wereceive in our hearts, and on the wings of electricity the liberatedsoul flies away swiftly, the light from the sun travels to our earthninety-five millions of miles in eight minutes and a few seconds;but on the wings of electricity, the mind requires only a second toaccomplish the same distance. The space between the heavenly bodiesis, to thought, no farther than the distance which we may have to walkfrom one friend's house to another in the same town; yet this electricshock obliges us to use our bodies here below, unless, like thewatchman, we have on the goloshes of Fortune.
In a very few seconds the watchman had travelled more than twohundred thousand miles to the moon, which is formed of a lightermaterial than our earth, and may be said to be as soft as new fallensnow. He found himself on one of the circular range of mountains whichwe see represented in Dr. Madler's large map of the moon. The interiorhad the appearance of a large hollow, bowl-shaped, with a depthabout half a mile from the brim. Within this hollow stood a largetown; we may form some idea of its appearance by pouring the whiteof an egg into a glass of water. The materials of which it was builtseemed just as soft, and pictured forth cloudy turrets and sail-liketerraces, quite transparent, and floating in the thin air. Our earthhung over his head like a great dark red ball. Presently he discovereda number of beings, which might certainly be called men, but were verydifferent to ourselves. A more fantastical imagination than Herschel'smust have discovered these. Had they been placed in groups, andpainted, it might have been said, "What beautiful foliage!"