托马斯·德·昆西（Thomas De Quincey，1785-1859年），英国散文家。他的散文作品热情洋溢，经常达到语气庄重，韵律优美如诗的效果，与弥尔顿等伟大诗人的作品相似。在这方面，他的代表作《一个吸食鸦片者的自白》（Confessions of an English Opium Eater）表现突出，其中最动人的篇章就来自作者吸食鸦片后所产生的狂热梦境。德·昆西写了很多散文作品，题材涉及文学、哲学、神学、政治学等领域。 
   Sweet funeral bells from some incalculable distance, wailing over the dead that die before the dawn, awakened me as I slept in a boat moored to some familiar shore.
   悦耳的丧钟声，从不知多远的地方飘来，为那些黎明前去世的人哀唱，此刻唤醒了睡在舟中的我，舟正泊在熟悉的岸旁。

  The morning twilight even then was breaking; and, by the dusky revelations which it spread, I saw a girl, adorned with a garland of white roses about her head for some great festival, running along the solitarystrand in extremity of haste. Her running was the running of panic; and often she looked back as to some dreadful enemy in the rear. But when I leaped ashore, and followed in her steps to warn her of a peril in front, alas! from me she fled as from another peril, and vainly I shouted to her of quicksands that lay ahead. Faster and faster she ran; round a promontory of rocks she wheeled out of sight; in an instant I also wheeled round it, but only to see the treacherous sands gathering above her head. Already her person was buried; only the fair young head and the diadem of white roses around it were still visible to the pitying heavens; and, last of all, was visible one white marble arm. I saw by the early twilight this fair young head, as it was sinking down to darkness—saw this marble arm, as it rose above her head and her treacherous grave, tossing, faltering, rising, clutching, as at some false deceiving hand stretched out from the clouds—saw this marble arm uttering her dying hope, and then uttering her dying despair. The head, the diadem, the arm, —these all had sunk; at last over these also the cruel quicksand had closed; and no memorial of the fair young girl remained on earth, except my own solitary tears, and the funeral bells from the desert seas that, rising again more softly, sang a requiem over the grave of the buried child, and over her blighted dawn.
    借拂晓冥暗的晨光，朦胧中，我依稀看见一位姑娘，头戴节日的白玫瑰光环，飞奔在孤寂的海岸上。她跑得慌张，还不停回头，仿佛被坏人追上。我于是跳上岸，追向前，警告她前方危险，但可叹，她却避我而逃，好像我也是坏人。我高声呼喊前方有流沙。可她却跑得越发飞快，绕过海岬，消失在前方。转瞬间，我也绕过了海岬，但见到的却是那险恶的流沙正将她埋葬。她身躯已被掩没，只有少女满是秀发的头和那玫瑰花冠任由怜悯的苍天俯视，最后就只剩下一只玉臂。借着清晨的微光，我看见那姑娘的头正沉入黑暗，看见那玉臂仍举在头上，举在那险恶的墓地上，无望地摆动着，摇晃着、伸展着，仿佛要拼命抓住云端伸出的一只欺人的手；我看见那玉臂呼喊着垂死的希望，然后是垂死的绝望。头颅、花环、玉臂——都已沉了下去，最后那无情的流沙将女孩完全埋葬；这位美丽的姑娘没有在大地上留下任何可供追忆的痕迹，只有我孤独的眼泪和丧钟的回响。那丧钟声从苍凉的海上又一次更轻柔地响起，在女孩的孤坟上回荡，在她早逝的黎明间回荡，将一支挽歌吟唱。

    I sat, and wept in secret the tears that men have ever given to the memory of those that died before the dawn, and by the treachery of earth, our mother. But the tears and funeral bells were hushed suddenly by a shout as of many nations, and by a roar as from some great king’s artillery advancing rapidly along the valleys, and heard afar by its echoes among the mountains. “Hush!” I said, as I bent my ear earthwards to listen—“hush!—this either is the very anarchy of strife, or else”—and then I listened more profoundly, and said as I raised my head—“or else, oh heavens! It is victory that swallows up all strife.”
    我坐下来，暗自哭出了泪水，这是人们为悼念黎明前逝去的人都流过的泪。逝者被险恶的大地夺去了生命，大地是我们的母亲。但突然间哭泣与钟声因万国齐鸣般的一声呐喊归于沉寂，因回荡在远山中的一声咆哮嘎然终止，那咆哮像是某位大王的炮兵急速前进、声震山谷的巨响。“嘘！”我一面说着，一面将耳朵俯在大地上倾听。“嘘！这要不正式那纷争的喧闹声，要不”，我更仔细倾听，抬起头说：“要不，天啊！这是吞噬一切纷争的胜利回响”。