“

Behold her, single in the field,

Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,

And sings a melancholy strain;

O listen! for the Vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt

More welcome notes to weary bands

Of travellers in some shady haunt,

Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard

In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,

Breaking the silence of the seas

Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—

Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

And battles long ago:

Or is it some more humble lay,

Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang

As if her song could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

And o'er the sickle bending;—

I listened, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more."

「

瞧她，一人在田野裡，
那個獨自的高地女孩！
她正自己收成與歌唱；
在這止住，或悄然離開！
她自個兒地割下並綁著禾稻，
一邊唱著憂憂的曲調；
喔聽！因為在遙遠的山谷上
繚繞的皆是那聲響。

從未有夜鷹歌詠
更熱情的音符　致成群疲憊
躲藏在遮蔭處的旅人，
在阿拉伯的沙堆：
從未耳聞如此扣人心弦的音色
就是春季的布穀鳥也要黯然失色，
打破汪洋大海的孤寂
在遙遠的赫布里底。

沒人要告訴我她所唱為何嗎？—
或許那悵惘的段落飄泊
在舊日、煩心、久遠的閒雜，
以及好久以前的拚搏：
還是它是較平凡的曲子，
講述著家常的日子？
一些必然的哀傷、失去、或難過，
已經過去，並可能重新來過？

不論那女子唱的是哪種主題
她都唱得彷彿沒有到底；
我看見她在勞作裡歌唱，
全身向著那把鐮刀倚；—
我聽著，一動也不動；
而當我爬上山峰，
我把那歌曲擱在我心底，
久已未聞亦不曾遠離。

」