午夜,在他有人守衛(wèi)的帳篷里,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour, when Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, should tremble at his power.
土耳其人正在夢鄉(xiāng)徜徉,當希臘人的膝蓋哀求地曲著,被他的勢力嚇得發(fā)抖。
In dreams, through camp and court he bore the trophies of a conqueror;
他在夢里穿過厭煩的營地和庭院堆滿征服者的戰(zhàn)利品;
In dreams, his song of triumph heard;
在夢里,他的勝利之歌有人聽見;
Then wore his monarch's signet ring:
然后戴上上面有君主封印的指環(huán);
Then pressed that monarch's throne—a king:
按著那位君主的寶座——一位國王:
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, as Eden's garden bird.
他的思緒紛亂,就像伊甸園里的鳥兒,快樂地抖著翅膀。
At midnight, in the forest shades,
午夜,在叢林的庇蔭處,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,
博薩里斯排列他的蘇里奧特樂隊,
True as the steel of their tried blades,
他們經過考驗的刀刃像鋼一樣堅硬,
Heroes in heart and hand.
英雄在心里和手上。
There had the Persian's thousands stood,
成千上萬波斯人站在那里,
There had the glad earth drunk their blood,
他們的鮮血就灑在歡樂的大地上,
On old Plataea's day:
就在老普拉泰亞即位那天:
And now there breathed that haunted air,
現在,那里彌漫著不安的氣息,
The sons of sires who conquered there,
曾征服那里的陛下的兒子們,
With arms to strike, and soul to dare, as quick, as far as they.
拿著武器準備戰(zhàn)斗,誓死搏殺,他們盡快投入戰(zhàn)斗。
An hour passed on—the Turk awoke;
一匹灰白色馬兒跑過,土耳其人醒來;
That bright dream was his last:
他的美夢到頭了:
He woke—to hear his sentries shriek,
他醒了——聽到哨兵在喊叫,
To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!
“拿起武器!他們來了!希臘人!希臘人!”
He woke—to die mid flame and smoke,
他醒了——在火光和煙霧中死去,
And shout, and groan, and saber stroke,
喊叫,呻吟,馬刀擊來,
And death shots falling thick and fast as lightnings from the mountain cloud;
死亡的槍炮聲此起彼伏,從高山云顛傳來火光;
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band:
聽到像鼓鳴一般的響聲,博薩里斯鼓勵他的手下:
Strike—till the last armed foe expires;
“進攻——直到最后一個全副武裝的敵人咽氣;
Strike—for your altars and your fires;
進攻——為了你們的祭壇和你們的炮火,
Strike—for the green graves of your sires;
進攻——為了你們的陛下那綠草茸茸的墓地;
God—and your native land!
上帝——與你們的故土同在!”