LESSON 11 THE FISH I DID N’T CATCH 那条我没钓到的鱼
John Greenleaf Whittier was born near Haverhill, Mass., in 1807, and died at Hampton Falls, N.H., in 1892.His boyhood was passed on a farm, and he never received a classical education.In 1829 he edited a newspaper in Boston.In the following year he removed to Hartford, Conn., to assume a similar position.In 1836 he edited an antislavery paper in Philadelphia.In 1840 he removed to Amesbury, Mass.Mr.Whittier’s parents were Friends, and he always held to the same faith.He wrote extensively both in prose and verse.As a poet, he ranked among those most highly esteemed and honored by his countrymen.“Snow Bound” is one of the longest and best of his poems.
1.Our bachelor uncle who lived with us was a quiet, genial[1] man, much given to hunting and fi shing; and it was one of the pleasures of our young life to accompany him on his expeditions to Great Hill, Brandy-brow Woods, the Pond, and, best of all, to the Country Brook.We were quite willing to work hard in the cornfield or the haying lot to finish the necessary day’s labor in season for an afternoon stroll through the woods and along the brookside.
2.I remember my first fishing excursion as if it were but yesterday.I have been happy many times in my life, but never more intensely so than when I received that fi rst fi shing pole from my uncle’s hand, and trudged off with him through the woods and meadows.It was a still, sweet day of early summer; the long afternoon shadows of the trees lay cool across our path; the leaves seemed greener, the fl owers brighter, the birds merrier, than ever before.
3.My uncle, who knew by long experience where were the best haunts[2] of pickerel, considerately[3] placed me at the most favorable point.I threw out my line as I had so often seen others, and waited anxiously for a bite, moving the bait in rapid jerks on the surface of the water in imitation of the leap of a frog.Nothing came of it.“Try again,” said my uncle.Suddenly the bait sank out of sight.“Now for it,” thought I; “here is a fi sh at last.”
4.I made a strong pull, and brought up a tangle of weeds.Again and again I cast out my line with aching arms, and drew it back empty.I looked at my uncle appealingly[4].“Try once more,” he said; “we fi shermen must have patience.”
5.Suddenly something tugged at my line, and swept off with it into deep water.Jerking it up, I saw a fi ne pickerel wriggling in the sun.“Uncle!” I cried, looking back in uncontrollable excitement, “I’ve got a fi sh!” “Not yet,” said my uncle.As he spoke there was a plash in the water; I caught the arrowy gleam of a scared fi sh shooting into the middle of the stream, my hook hung empty from the line.I had lost my prize.
6.We are apt to speak of the sorrows of childhood as trifles in comparison with those of grown-up people; but we may depend upon it the young folks don’t agree with us.Our griefs, modified[5] and restrained by reason, experience, and self-respect, keep the proprieties[6], and, if possible, avoid a scene; but the sorrow of childhood, unreasoning and all-absorbing[7], is a complete abandonment to the passion.The doll’s nose is broken, and the world breaks up with it; the marble rolls out of sight, and the solid globe rolls off with the marble.
7.So, overcome with my great and bitter disappointment, I sat down on the nearest hassock[8], and for a time refused to be comforted, even by my uncle’s assurance that there were more fi sh in the brook.He refi tted my bait, and, putting the pole again in my hands, told me to try my luck once more.
8.“But remember, boy,” he said, with his shrewd smile, “never brag of catching a fi sh until he is on dry ground.I’ve seen older folks doing that in more ways than one, and so making fools of themselves.It’s no use to boast of anything until it’s done, nor then, either, for it speaks for itself.”
9.How often since I have been reminded of the fi sh that I did not catch.When I hear people boasting of a work as yet undone, and trying to anticipate[9] the credit which belongs only to actual achievement[10], I call to mind that scene by the brookside, and the wise caution of my uncle in that particular instance takes the form of a proverb of universal application: “NEVER BRAG OF YOUR FISH BEFORE YOU CATCH HIM.”
【中文阅读】
1807年，约翰·格林利夫·惠蒂尔出生于美国马萨诸塞州黑弗利尔市附近，1892年他在新罕布什尔州汉普顿大瀑布镇去世。他的少年时期在农场度过，从未接受过任何传统教育。1829年，他在波士顿担任一份报纸的编辑，翌年，他搬到康涅狄格州哈特福德市，仍旧从事编辑工作。1836年，他在费城参与一份反奴隶制报纸的编辑工作。1840年，他又迁回马萨诸塞州埃姆斯伯里市。惠蒂尔的父母是基督教公教会信徒，他也秉持同样信念。他写了大量的散文和诗歌，是美国最负声望及受人爱戴的诗人之一，《大雪封门》是他篇幅最长、最受喜爱的一篇诗歌作品。
1.与我们全家共同生活的鳏夫叔叔沉默寡言，性情温和，狩猎或垂钓占据他生活中大多时光。跟随他一起到处郊游远足，是我们年少时最大的乐趣之一，我们的足迹遍及格瑞特山、布兰迪山坡树林、大湖以及最让我们雀跃欢呼的康瑞河。我们总是乐意在玉米田或干草垛边努力干活，忙完这个季节里必要的当天活计，就为了换来一个和他一起漫步树林间或溪流旁的下午。
2.我清晰地记得我第一次钓鱼远足的情形，恍若昨日发生的事情。在我一生中，曾有过许多幸福时光，但从没有过比我第一次从叔叔手里接过钓鱼竿时更强烈的喜悦。我将钓竿扛在背上，随他穿过簇簇丛林，涉过翻飞草场，一路跋涉步履艰难。那时正值初夏，空气中充满了静谧和芬芳，我们走在夏日午后漫长的树荫里，一路阴凉，叶子看起来比以往任何时候都更绿，野花更鲜艳，鸟儿也鸣啾得更为动听。
3, 叔叔经验丰富，深知梭鱼出没之地，他体贴地帮我选好上佳的垂钓地方。平日经常观看他人钓鱼，我也学着别人模样，甩出钓竿上的鱼线， 然后焦急地等待着鱼儿咬钩，还不时模仿着青蛙蹦跳的姿势，在水面上猛拽鱼饵。许久，也没见一条鱼儿上钩。“再试试。”叔叔对我叫道。突然，鱼饵沉入水下。“有了，”我心头一喜，“终于有鱼儿咬钩了！”
4.我猛然拉动鱼竿，拽出的却是缠成一团的水草。我一次又一次将钓线甩入河中，手臂开始酸痛，却仍然一无所获。我用求救的眼神看了看叔叔。“再试一次，”他说，“钓鱼的人需要格外有耐心。”
5.忽然，有东西拽住我的鱼线，并扯着它往水里潜去。我猛地拉起鱼竿，看见一条肥硕的梭鱼在阳光下扭动着身子。“叔叔！”我高声叫道，抑制不住满心激动地扭头看他。“我钓到了一条大鱼！”“还没这么早。”叔叔的话音未落，刹那间，水面溅起水花，我转过头，只见一道箭矢般的银光划过，这条惊慌的大鱼笔直跃入水中。我手上的那柄钓竿上，只留下空空的饵钩，我失去了我的战利品。
6.成年以后，我们极易谈及孩提时代的懊恼，与成年后的悲伤相比，尽管鸡毛蒜皮，根本不值一提，但总会令人耿耿于怀。当然，年轻人看来每每不以为然。成年后的悲痛，受到理性、经验、自尊的修正和限制，要尊重社会的习俗传统，如果可能的话，还要避免在别人面前出丑。然而，孩提时代缺乏理性，沉湎痛苦难以自拔，任由性情恣意崩溃和放纵。洋娃娃的鼻子破了，整个世界随之破碎；石弹珠不知道滚到哪儿去了，整个天地也接着塌陷。
7.于是，我被强烈的苦涩失望所攫取，一屁股颓然瘫坐在最近的草丛里。有那么一会儿，我根本不想听到安慰，哪怕是我叔叔再三向我保证，河里还有很多鱼。他重新装好我的鱼饵，把钓竿再次放在我的手里，嘱咐我再试试手气。
8.“但是，请记住，孩子，”他说着，脸上露出狡黠笑意，“直到鱼儿躺在干燥的地面之前，都别吹嘘你钓到了鱼。我曾见过许多年纪比你大的人用各种方式吹嘘自己还没做到的事，结果只是当众出丑。记住，八字还没有一撇的时候，吹嘘是没有意义的；哪怕事情成功以后，也没必要吹嘘，因为到那时，你所获得的成就不言而喻。”
9.从那以后，我曾无数次想起这条我没钓到的鱼。当我听到人们吐沫四溅地夸口自己遥遥无期的奋斗目标，幻想着成功唾手可得的时候，河边钓鱼的场景再度浮现。那时，叔叔曾用一句谚语，睿智地指点了我的人生：“在鱼到手之前，绝不要吹嘘自己钓到了鱼。”
【注释】
[1] Genial, cheerful.
[2] Haunts, places frequently visited.
[3] Considerately, with due regard to others, kindly thoughtful.
[4] Appealingly, as though asking for aid.
[5] Modif ied, qualif ied, lessened.
[6] Proprieties, fixed customs or rules of conduct.
[7] Absorbing, engaging the attention entirely.
[8] Hassock, a raised mound of turf.
[9] Anticipate, to take before the proper time.
[10] Achievement, performance, deed.