我本尊贵伴君王，
抛却后冠为情郎；
圆桌骑士因我毁，1
宫廷从此失和祥。
母仪天下曾几时，
妇孺顶礼民景仰。
銮驾摆道卡默洛，2
万人空巷看新妆。
吾颜依旧艳如玉，
黄袍白裘美霓裳。
今朝零落尘埃里，
百姓如避瘟神样。
人情冷暖帝王家，
世态炎凉名利场。
河流清澈漾银波，
马蹄趟过变浊汤。
潋滟平息水弥清，
汲取畅饮不嫌脏。
一失足成千古恨，
惟我终身遭讥谤。
我若繁世花一朵，
生来只为他人赏。
台前强颜作欢喜，
幕后谁怜泪千行。
德貌雍容金缕衣，
欲笑还颦最断肠。
我生即为国王女，
长成又入后宫墙。
后冠于我如粪土，
与生俱来怎推搪。
百官屈膝行臣礼，
命妇羡我居高堂。
宫苑深深深几许，
今夜不再为我敞。
乞儿门卫与厨婢，
见我连忙躲一旁。
厅堂森寒形影吊，
长阶独行情彷徨。
冷宫静寂若坟墓，
闺房孤孑独身藏。
蒲草腐烂任人踩，
炉火熄灭透心凉。
附原诗
GUENEVERE
By SARA TEASDALE
I was a queen, and I have lost my crown;
A wife, and I have broken all my vows;
A lover, and I ruined him I loved:–
There is no other havoc left to do.
A little month ago I was a queen,
And mothers held their babies up to see
When I came riding out of Camelot.
The women smiled, and all the world smiled too.
And now, what woman’s eyes would smile on me?
I am still beautiful, and yet what child
Would think of me as some high, heaven-sent thing,
An angel, clad in gold and miniver?
The world would run from me, and yet I am
No different from the queen they used to love.
If water, flowing silver over stones,
Is forded, and beneath the horses’ feet
Grows turbid suddenly, it clears again,
And men will drink it with no thought of harm.
Yet I am branded for a single fault.
I was the flower amid a toiling world,
Where people smiled to see one happy thing,
And they were proud and glad to raise me high;
They only asked that I should be right fair,
A little kind, and gownèd wondrously,
And surely it were little praise to me
If I had pleased them well throughout my life.
I was a queen, the daughter of a king.
The crown was never heavy on my head,
It was my right, and was a part of me.
The women thought me proud, the men were kind,
And bowed down gallantly to kiss my hand,
And watched me as I passed them calmly by,
Along the halls I shall not tread again.
What if, to-night, I should revisit them?
The warders at the gates, the kitchen-maids,
The very beggars would stand off from me,
And I, their queen, would climb the stairs alone,
Pass through the banquet-hall, a hated thing,
And seek my chambers for a hiding-place,
And I should find them but a sepulchre,
The very rushes rotted on the floors,
The fire in ashes on the freezing hearth.
