I have been a walk this morning with a book in my hand； but as usual I have been occupied with nothing but you； I wish I could say in an agreeable manner。 I am tormented day and night。 They talk of my going to Italy。 It's certain I shall never I recover if I am to be so long separate from you；yet with all this devotion to you I cannot persuade myself into any confidence of you。
Past experience connected with the fact of my long separation from you gives me agonies which are scarcely to be talked of。 When your mother es I shall be very sudden and expert in asking her whether you have been to Mrs。 Dilke's； for she might say no to make me easy。 I am literally worn to death； which seems my only recourse。 I cannot forget what has passed。 What？ nothing with a man of the world； but to me dreadful。
I will get rid of this as much as possible。 When you were in the habit of flirting with Brown you would have left off； could your own heart have felt one half of one pang mine did。 Brown is a good sort of Man—he did not know he was doing me to death by inches。 I feel the effect of every one of those hours in my side now； and for that cause； though he has done me many services； though I know his love and friendship for me； though at this moment I should be without pence were it not for his assistance； I will never see or speak to him until we are both old men； if we are to be。 I will resent my heart having been made a football。 You will call this madness。 I have heard you say that it was not unpleasant to wait a few years—you have amusements—your mind is away—you have not brooded over one idea as I have； and how should you？
You are to me an object intensely desireable—the air I breathe in a room empty of you is unhealthy。 I am not the same to you—no—you can wait—you have a thousand activities—you can be happy without me。 Any party； any thing to fill up the day has been enough。
How have you passed this month？ Who have you smiled with？All this may seem savage in me。 You do not feel as I do—you do not know what it is to love—one day you may—your time is not e。
Ask yourself how many unhappy hours Keats has caused you in Loneliness。 For myself I have been a Martyr the whole time； and for this reason I speak； the confession is forced from me by the torture。
I appeal to you by the blood of that Christ you believe in： Do not write to me if you have done anything this month which it would have pained me to have seen。 You may have altered— if you have not—if you still behave in dancing rooms and others societies as I have seen you—I do not want to live—if you have done so I wish this ing night may be my last。
I cannot live without you； and not only you but chaste you； virtuous you。 The Sun rises and sets； the day passes； and you follow the bent of your inclination to a certain extent—you have no conception of the quantity of miserable feeling that passes through me in a day。— Be serious！ Love is not a plaything—and again do not write unless you can do it with a crystal conscience。 I would sooner die for want of you than—
Yours forever
J。 Keats
罗伯特·勃朗宁致伊丽莎白·芭蕾特（1）
罗伯特·勃朗宁（1812－1889），19世纪英国著名诗人。他一生写了大量戏剧和诗歌，代表作有《巴拉塞尔七》、《斯特拉福》、《比芭走过》等诗剧。他对英语诗歌形式最大的贡献就是“戏剧独白”这一体裁，这种诗是通过主人公的自白来表现戏剧场面以及人物的命运。女诗人伊丽莎白·芭蕾特于1844年出版第一本诗集，勃朗宁读后很欣赏，随即写了本篇书信，两人在通信中逐渐产生爱情，并最终成为世界文坛永远传诵的佳话，《葡萄牙人十四行诗集》就是他们爱情的结晶。后来，伊丽莎白·芭蕾特变成了世界文学史上著名的伊丽莎白·勃朗宁夫人。更使人激动的是，两人之间那坚定、执著、一往深情的爱，竟使瘫痪多年的伊丽莎白·芭蕾特奇迹般地站了起来。
亲爱的芭蕾特小姐：
我真的是从内心深处喜欢你的诗，亲爱的芭蕾特小姐——我现在绝不是在给你写一封随随便便的恭维信——它绝非为了敷衍，也绝非顺口夸耀你的才华，它的确是我心悦诚服的自然流露。
一个星期前的今天，我第一次读到你的诗篇，然后就一直在反复琢磨，能对你谈点什么感受，现在想起这件事，仍不免哑然失笑。当时，我心里感到一阵狂喜，想道：这次我要打破以前的旧习，不能像平时真正欣赏一首诗那样，只是单纯而被动地享受，而要清楚地说出自己欣赏的理由来——我也许会像一个忠实的同行应做的那样，试着挑出些毛病来，以期对你有所助益，尽到一个忠实的同行应尽的责任，日后也好感到脸上有光啊！——结果却是一无所得——于是，你那些生气勃勃而格调高雅的诗，就被我吸收和消化掉了，就像一朵鲜花在我心田里扎根、生长——啊，这样的一朵花，放在那里被晾干、压扁，受到人们的珍爱，夹在书本里，书页的两头还有说明的文字，然后，被合起来束之高阁……而且，那本书还被人称做《花苑》呢！这将是多么不可思议的一件事啊！
虽然这样，我也不用放弃早晚要这么做的想法；因为，就是现在，每当我跟任何有识之士交谈时，我对自己非同寻常的信念，也能说出理由来。那清新美妙的节奏、丰富多彩的语言、哀婉动人的笔触以及真实、新颖而大胆的想像，但此时此刻，我却是在跟你——生平第一次跟你本人谈话呀，我不由得心神激荡。
前面我已经说过自己真的是从内心深处喜欢这几本诗集——而且我也爱你。有一次，我几乎就要看到你了——是亲眼看到你，你知道吗？有天早上，凯宁先生问我：“您想与芭蕾特小姐见面吗？”然后，他就进去通报——过一会儿，他回来了……但你的身体很不舒服。现在，这件事已经过去了很多年，我觉得自己就像是在一次充满冒险的旅途中，距离一个旷世奇观（在一座教堂或地下墓窟里）已经非常非常近了，要想进去的话，只要揭开门帘就可以了，可还差那么一点点。现在看来，这么一点点的隔阂就足以挡住去路了，所以，那虚掩的门户一下子重新关上，我只好再一次从千里之外踏上回家之路。难道我就再也没有机会看到那道风景了吗？
好了，今天因为读到了你的诗集，我衷心地感到愉快、骄傲和感激。
永远是你忠实的
罗伯特·勃朗宁
1845年1月10日
于瑟雷郡 哈查姆县新十字
Robert Browning
To
New Cross； Hatcham； Surrey。
（January 10th； 1845）
Dear Miss Barrett；
I love your verses with all my heart； dear Miss Barrett； — and this is no offhand plimentary letter that I shall write；—whatever else； no prompt matterofcourse recognition of your genius； and there a graceful and natural end of the thing。
罗伯特·勃朗宁致伊丽莎白·芭蕾特（2）
Since the day last week when I first read your poems； I quite laugh to remember how I have been turning and turning again in my mind what I should be able to tell you of their effect upon me； for in the first flush of delight I thought I would this once get out of my habit of purely passive enjoyment； when I do really enjoy； and thoroughly justify my admiration— perhaps even； as a loyal fellowcraftsman should； try and find fault and do you some little good to be proud of hereafter！—but nothing es of it all—so into me has it gone； and part of me has it bee； this great living poetry of yours； not a flower of which but took root and grew—Oh； how different that is from lying to be dried and pressed flat； and prized highly； and put in a book with a proper account at top and bottom； and shut up and put away… and the book called a ‘Flora'； besides！
After all； I need not give up the thought of doing that； too； in time； because even now； talking with whoever is worthy； I can give a reason for my faith in one and another excellence； the fresh strange music； the affluent language； the exquisite pathos and true new brave thought； but in this addressing myself to you—your ownself； and for the first time； my feeling rises altogether。
I do； as I say； love these books with my heart and I love you too。 Do you know I was once not very far from seeing—really seeing you？ Mr。 Kenyon said to me one morning “Would you like to see Miss Barrett？” then he went to announce me；—then he returned… you were too unwell； and now it is years ago； and I feel as at some untoward passage in my travels； as if I had been close； so close； to some world's—wonder in chapel or crypt； only a screen to push and I might have entered； but there was some slight； so it now seems； slight and just sufficient bar to admission； and the halfopened door shut； and I went home my thousands of miles； and the sight was never to be？
Well； these Poems were to be； and this true thankful joy and pride with which I feel myself；
Yours ever faithfully；
Robert Browning
。。
伊丽莎白·芭蕾特致罗伯特·勃朗宁（1）
亲爱的勃朗宁先生：
我从心底里感谢你。你写那