the tyger的赏析（格律、基调、主题。。。）谢谢~！

英诗浩瀚，篇幅长短不一，长至成集，短至几句。本文从实用角度阐述英诗的欣赏：诗的格律、诗的押韵、诗的体式、诗的评判。
　　诗以高度凝结的语言表达着人们的喜怒哀乐，用其特有的节奏与方式影响着人们的精神世界。诗讲究联想，运用象征、比喻、拟人等各种修辞手法，形成了独特的语言艺术。
　　一、 诗的格律
　　“格律是指可以用脚打拍子的节奏”，是每个音步轻重音节排列的格式，也是朗读时轻重音的依据。而音步是由重读音节和非重读音节构成的诗的分析单位。重读音节为扬（重），在音节上用“－”或“ˊ”标示，非重读音节为抑（轻），在音节上用“︶”标示，音步之间可用“／”隔开。以下是五种常见格式：
　　1. 抑扬格（轻重格）Iambus：是最常见的一种格式，每个音步由一个非重读音节加一个重读音节构成。
　　As fair / art thou / my bon/nie lass，
　　So deep / in luve / am I ：
　　And I / will luve / thee still，/ my dear，
　　Till a` / the seas / gang dry：
　　Robert Burns（1759-1796）： My Luve Is like a Red， Red Rose
　　注；art=are luve=love bonnie=beautiful a`=all gang=go
　　上例中为四音步与三音步交叉，可标示为：︶－／︶－／︶－／（︶－）
　　2.扬抑格（重轻格）Trochee：每个音步由一个重读音节加一个非重读音节构成。
　　下例中为四音步扬抑格（少一个轻音节），可标示为：－︶／－︶／－︶／－
　　Tyger！/ Tyger！/ burning / bright
　　In the / forests / of the / night
　　William Blake： The Tyger
　　3. 抑抑扬格（轻轻重格）Anapaestic foot： 每个音步由两个非重读音节加一个重读音节构成。如：三音步抑抑扬格︶︶－／︶︶－／︶︶－
　　Like a child / from the womb，
　　Like a ghost / from the tomb，
　　I arise / and unbuild / it again.
　　4. 扬抑抑格（重轻轻格）Dactylic foot： 每个音步由一个重读音节加两个非重读音节构成。如：两音步扬抑抑格－︶︶／－︶︶
　　ˊTouch her not / ˊscornfully，
　　ˊThink of her / ˊmournfully.
　　- Thomas Hood
　　5. 抑扬抑格（轻重轻格）Amphibrach：每个音步由一个非重读音节加一个重读音节再加一个非重读音节构成。如：三音步抑扬抑格︶－︶／︶－︶／︶－︶下例中最后一个音步为抑扬格。
　　O ˊhush thee / my ˊbabie / thy ˊsire was / a knight.
　　在同一首诗中常会出现不同的格律，格律解析对朗读诗歌有一定参考价值。现代诗中常不遵守规范的格律。
　　二、 诗的押韵
　　押韵是指通过重复元音或辅音以达到一定音韵效果的诗歌写作手法。
　　1. 尾韵：最常见，最重要的押韵方式。
　　1） 联韵：aabb型。
　　I shot an arrow into the air，
　　It fell to earth， I knew not where；
　　For， so swiftly it flew， the sight
　　Could not follow it in its flight.
　　Henry Wadsworth Longfellow： The Arrow and the Song
　　2） 交叉韵：abab型。
　　Sunset and evening star，
　　And one clear call for me！
　　And may there be no moaning of the bar，
　　When I put out to sea，
　　Alfred Tennyson（1809-1892）： Crossing the Bar
　　3） 同韵：有的诗押韵，一韵到底，大多是在同一节诗中共用一个韵脚。
　　如下例就共用／i：p／为韵脚。
　　The woods are lovely， dark and deep，
　　But I have promises to keep，
　　And miles to go before I sleep，
　　And miles to go before I sleep.
　　Robert Frost （1874-1963）： Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
　　2. 头韵：是指一行（节）诗中几个词开头的辅音相同，形成押韵。下例中运用／f／、／b／与／s／头韵生动写出了船在海上轻快航行的景象。
　　The fair breeze blew， the white foam flew，
　　The furrow followed free，
　　We were the first that ever burst
　　Into that silent sea.
　　T.S. Coleridge： Rime of the Acient Mariner
　　3.内韵（同元音）：指词与词之间原因的重复形成的内部押韵。
　　下面一节诗中／i／及／iη／重复照应，呈现出一派欢乐祥和的气氛。
　　Spring， the sweet spring， is the year‘s pleasant king；
　　Then blooms each thing， then maids dance in a ring，
　　Cold dath not sting， the pretty birds do sing：
　　Cuckoo，jug-jug，pu-we，to-witta-woo！
　　Thomas Nashe（1567-1601）： Spring， the Sweet Spring

马克思《青年在选择职业时的考虑》英文版

Reflections of a Young Man
on The Choice of a Profession
Source: MECW Volume 1
Written: between August 10 and 16, 1835
First published: in Archiv für die Geschichte des Sozialismus und der Arbeiterbewegung, 1925
Translated from the Latin.
Transcribed: by Sally Ryan.
Nature herself has determined the sphere of activity in which the animal should move, and it peacefully moves within
that sphere, without attempting to go beyond it, without even an inkling of any other. To man, too, the Deity gave a
general aim, that of ennobling mankind and himself, but he left it to man to seek the means by which this aim can be
achieved; he left it to him to choose the position in society most suited to him, from which he can best uplift himself
and society.
This choice is a great privilege of man over the rest of creation, but at the same time it is an act which can destroy his
whole life, frustrate all his plans, and make him unhappy. Serious consideration of this choice, therefore, is certainly
the first duty of a young man who is beginning his career and does not want to leave his most important affairs to
chance.
Everyone has an aim in view, which to him at least seems great, and actually is so if the deepest conviction, the
innermost voice of the heart declares it so, for the Deity never leaves mortal man wholly without a guide; he speaks
softly but with certainty.
But this voice can easily be drowned, and what we took for inspiration can be the product of the moment, which
another moment can perhaps also destroy. Our imagination, perhaps, is set on fire, our emotions excited, phantoms
flit before our eyes, and we plunge headlong into what impetuous instinct suggests, which we imagine the Deity
himself has pointed out to us. But what we ardently embrace soon repels us and we see our whole existence in ruins.
We must therefore seriously examine whether we have really been inspired in our choice of a profession, whether an
inner voice approves it, or whether this inspiration is a delusion, and what we took to be a call from the Deity was
self-deception. But how can we recognise this except by tracing the source of the inspiration itself?
What is great glitters, its glitter arouses ambition, and ambition can easily have produced the inspiration, or what we
took for inspiration; but reason can no longer restrain the man who is tempted by the demon of ambition, and he
plunges headlong into what impetuous instinct suggests: he no longer chooses his position in life, instead it is
determined by chance and illusion.
Nor are we called upon to adopt the position which offers us the most brilliant opportunities; that is not the one which,
in the long series of years in which we may perhaps hold it, will never tire us, never dampen our zeal, never let our
enthusiasm grow cold, but one in which we shall soon see our wishes unfulfilled, our ideas unsatisfied, and we shall
inveigh against the Deity and curse mankind.
But it is not only ambition which can arouse sudden enthusiasm for a particular profession; we may perhaps have
embellished it in our imagination, and embellished it so that it appears the highest that life can offer. We have not
analysed it, not considered the whole burden, the great responsibility it imposes on us; we have seen it only from a
distance, and distance is deceptive.
Our own reason cannot be counsellor here; for it is supported neither by experience nor by profound observation,
being deceived by emotion and blinded by fantasy. To whom then should we turn our eyes? Who should support us
where our reason forsakes us?
Our parents, who have already travelled lifes road and experienced the severity of fate - our heart tells us.
And if then our enthusiasm still persists, if we still continue to love a profession and believe ourselves called to it after
we have examined it in cold blood, after we have perceived its burdens and become acquainted with its difficulties,
then we ought to adopt it, then neither does our enthusiasm deceive us nor does overhastiness carry us away.
But we cannot always attain the position to which we believe we are called; our relations in society have to some
extent already begun to be established before we are in a position to determine them.
Our physical constitution itself is often a threatening obstacle, and let no one scoff at its rights.
It is true that we can rise above it; but then our downfall is all the more rapid, for then we are venturing to build on
crumbling ruins, then our whole life is an unhappy struggle between the mental and the bodily principle. But he who is
unable to reconcile the warring elements within himself, how can he resist lifes tempestuous stress, how can he act
calmly? And it is from calm alone that great and fine deeds can arise; it is the only soil in which ripe fruits successfully
develop.
Although we cannot work for long and seldom happily with a physical constitution which is not suited to our
profession, the thought nevertheless continually arises of sacrificing our well-being to duty, of acting vigorously
although we are weak. But if we have chosen a profession for which we do not possess the talent, we can never
exercise it worthily, we shall soon realise with shame our own incapacity and tell ourselves that we are useless
created beings, members of society who are incapable of fulfilling their vocation. Then the most natural consequence
is self-contempt, and what feeling is more painful and less capable of being made up for by all that the outside world
has to offer? Self-contempt is a serpent that ever gnaws at ones breast, sucking the life-blood from ones heart and
mixing it with the poison of misanthropy and despair.
An illusion about our talents for a profession which we have closely examined is a fault which takes its revenge on us
ourselves, and even if it does not meet with the censure of the outside world it gives rise to more terrible pain in our
hearts than such censure could inflict.
If we have considered all this, and if the conditions of our life permit us to choose any profession we like, we may
adopt the one that assures us the greatest worth, one which is based on ideas of whose truth we are thoroughly
convinced, which offers us the widest scope to work for mankind, and for ourselves to approach closer to the general
aim for which every profession is but a means - perfection.
Worth is that which most of all uplifts a man, which imparts a higher nobility to his actions and all his endeavours,
which makes him invulnerable, admired by the crowd and raised above it.
But worth can be assured only by a profession in which we are not servile tools, but in which we act independently in
our own sphere. It can be assured only by a profession that does not demand reprehensible acts, even if
reprehensible only in outward appearance, a profession which the best can follow with noble pride. A profession
which assures this in the greatest degree is not always the highest, but is always the most to be preferred.
But just as a profession which gives us no assurance of worth degrades us, we shall as surely succumb under the
burdens of one which is based on ideas that we later recognise to be false.
There we have no recourse but to self-deception, and what a desperate salvation is that which is obtained by selfbetrayal!
Those professions which are not so much involved in life itself as concerned with abstract truths are the most
dangerous for the young man whose principles are not yet firm and whose convictions are not yet strong and
unshakeable. At the same time these professions may seem to be the most exalted if they have taken deep root in
our hearts and if we are capable of sacrificing our lives and all endeavours for the ideas which prevail in them.
They can bestow happiness on the man who has a vocation for them, but they destroy him who adopts them rashly,
without reflection, yielding to the impulse of the moment.
On the other hand, the high regard we have for the ideas on which our profession is based gives us a higher standing
in society, enhances our own worth, and makes our actions un-challengeable.
One who chooses a profession he values highly will shudder at the idea of being unworthy of it; he will act nobly if only
because his position in society is a noble one.
But the chief guide which must direct us in the choice of a profession is the welfare of mankind and our own
perfection. It should not be thought that these two interests could be in conflict, that one would have to destroy the
other; on the contrary, mans nature is so constituted that he can attain his own perfection only by working for the
perfection, for the good, of his fellow men.
If he works only for himself, he may perhaps become a famous man of learning, a great sage, an excellent poet, but
he can never be a perfect, truly great man.
History calls those men the greatest who have ennobled themselves by working for the common good; experience
acclaims as happiest the man who has made the greatest number of people happy; religion itself teaches us that the
ideal being whom all strive to copy sacrificed himself for the sake of mankind, and who would dare to set at nought
such judgments?
If we have chosen the position in life in which we can most of all work for mankind, no burdens can bow us down,
because they are sacrifices for the benefit of all; then we shall experience no petty, limited, selfish joy, but our
happiness will belong to millions, our deeds will live on quietly but perpetually at work, and over our ashes will be shed
the hot tears of noble people.