Old is he, Eros, the ever young. He and Time were children together. Chronos shall die, too; but Love is imperishable. Brightest of the Divinities, where hast thou not been sung? Other worships pass away; the idols3 for whom pyramids were raised lie in the desert crumbling4 and almost nameless; the Olympians are fled, their fanes no longer rise among the quivering olive-groves of Ilissus, or crown the emerald-islets of the amethyst5 Aegean! These are gone, but thou remainest. There is still a garland for thy temple, a heifer for thy stone. A heifer? Ah, many a darker sacrifice. Other blood is shed at thy altars, Remorseless One, and the Poet Priest who ministers at thy Shrine6 draws his auguries7 from the bleeding hearts of men!
While Love hath no end, Can the Bard9 ever cease singing? In Kingly and Heroic ages, ’twas of Kings and Heroes that the Poet spake. But in these, our times, the Artisan hath his voice as well as the Monarch10. The people To-Day is King, and we chronicle his woes11, as They of old did the sacrifice of the princely Iphigenia, or the fate of the crowned Agamemnon.
Is Odysseus less august in his rags than in his purple? Fate, Passion, Mystery, the Victim, the Avenger12, the Hate that harms, the Furies that tear, the Love that bleeds, are not these with us Still? are not these still the weapons of the Artist? the colors of his palette? the chords of his lyre? Listen! I tell thee a tale — not of Kings — but of Men — not of Thrones, but of Love, and Grief, and Crime. Listen, and but once more. ’Tis for the last time (probably) these fingers shall sweep the strings13.
E. L. B. L.
Noonday in Chepe.
’Twas noonday in Chepe. High Tide in the mighty14 River City! — its banks wellnigh overflowing15 with the myriad-waved Stream of Man! The toppling wains, bearing the produce of a thousand marts; the gilded16 equipage of the Millionary; the humbler, but yet larger vehicle from the green metropolitan17 suburbs (the Hanging Gardens of our Babylon), in which every traveller might, for a modest remuneration, take a republican seat; the mercenary caroche, with its private freight; the brisk curricle of the letter-carrier, robed in royal scarlet18: these and a thousand others were laboring19 and pressing onward20, and locked and bound and hustling21 together in the narrow channel of Chepe. The imprecations of the charioteers were terrible. From the noble’s broidered hammer-cloth, or the driving-seat of the common coach, each driver assailed22 the other with floods of ribald satire23. The pavid matron within the one vehicle (speeding to the Bank for her semestrial pittance) shrieked24 and trembled; the angry Dives hastening to his office (to add another thousand to his heap,) thrust his head over the blazoned25 panels, and displayed an eloquence26 of objurgation which his very Menials could not equal; the dauntless street urchins27, as they gayly threaded the Labyrinth28 of Life, enjoyed the perplexities and quarrels of the scene, and exacerbated29 the already furious combatants by their poignant30 infantile satire. And the Philosopher, as he regarded the hot strife31 and struggle of these Candidates in the race for Gold, thought with a sigh of the Truthful and the Beautiful, and walked on, melancholy32 and serene33.
’Twas noon in Chepe. The ware-rooms were thronged34. The flaunting35 windows of the mercers attracted many a purchaser: the glittering panes36 behind which Birmingham had glazed37 its simulated silver, induced rustics38 to pause: although only noon, the savory39 odors of the Cook Shops tempted40 the over hungry citizen to the bun of Bath, or to the fragrant41 potage that mocks the turtle’s flavor — the turtle! O dapibus suprimi grata testudo Jovis! I am an Alderman when I think of thee! Well: it was noon in Chepe.
But were all battling for gain there? Among the many brilliant shops whose casements42 shone upon Chepe, there stood one a century back (about which period our tale opens) devoted43 to the sale of Colonial produce. A rudely carved image of a negro, with a fantastic plume44 and apron45 of variegated46 feathers, decorated the lintel. The East and West had sent their contributions to replenish47 the window.
The poor slave had toiled48, died perhaps, to produce yon pyramid of swarthy sugar marked “ONLY 6 1/2d.”— That catty box, on which was the epigraph “STRONG FAMILY CONGO ONLY 3s. 9d,” was from the country of Confutzee — that heap of dark produce bore the legend “TRY OUR REAL NUT”—’Twas Cocoa — and that nut the Cocoa-nut, whose milk has refreshed the traveller and perplexed49 the natural philosopher. The shop in question was, in a word, a Grocer’s.
In the midst of the shop and its gorgeous contents sat one who, to judge from his appearance (though ’twas a difficult task, as, in sooth, his back was turned), had just reached that happy period of life when the Boy is expanding into the Man. O Youth, Youth! Happy and Beautiful! O fresh and roseate dawn of life; when the dew yet lies on the flowers, ere they have been scorched50 and withered51 by Passion’s fiery52 Sun! Immersed in thought or study, and indifferent to the din8 around him, sat the boy. A careless guardian53 was he of the treasures confided54 to him. The crowd passed in Chepe; he never marked it. The sun shone on Chepe; he only asked that it should illumine the page he read. The knave55 might filch56 his treasures; he was heedless of the knave. The customer might enter; but his book was all in all to him.
And indeed a customer WAS there; a little hand was tapping on the counter with a pretty impatience57; a pair of arch eyes were gazing at the boy, admiring, perhaps, his manly58 proportions through the homely59 and tightened60 garments he wore.
“Ahem! sir! I say, young man!” the customer exclaimed.
“Ton d’apameibomenos prosephe,” read on the student, his voice choked with emotion. “What language!” he said; “how rich, how noble, how sonorous61! prosephe podas —”
The customer burst out into a fit of laughter so shrill62 and cheery, that the young Student could not but turn round, and blushing, for the first time remarked her. “A pretty grocer’s boy you are,” she cried, “with your applepiebomenos and your French and lingo63. Am I to be kept waiting for hever?”
“Pardon, fair Maiden,” said he, with high-bred courtesy: “’twas not French I read, ’twas the Godlike language of the blind old bard. In what can I be serviceable to ye, lady?” and to spring from his desk, to smooth his apron, to stand before her the obedient Shop Boy, the Poet no more, was the work of a moment.
“I might have prigged this box of figs64,” the damsel said good-naturedly, “and you’d never have turned round.”
“They came from the country of Hector,” the boy said. “Would you have currants, lady? These once bloomed in the island gardens of the blue Aegean. They are uncommon65 fine ones, and the figure is low; they’re fourpence-halfpenny a pound. Would ye mayhap make trial of our teas? We do not advertise, as some folks do: but sell as low as any other house.”
“You’re precious young to have all these good things,” the girl exclaimed, not unwilling66, seemingly, to prolong the conversation. “If I was you, and stood behind the counter, I should be eating figs the whole day long.”
“Time was,” answered the lad, “and not long since I thought so too. I thought I never should be tired of figs. But my old uncle bade me take my fill, and now in sooth I am aweary of them.”
“I think you gentlemen are always so,” the coquette said.
“Nay, say not so, fair stranger!” the youth replied, his face kindling67 as he spoke68, and his eagle eyes flashing fire. “Figs pall69; but oh! the Beautiful never does. Figs rot; but oh! the Truthful is eternal. I was born, lady, to grapple with the Lofty and the Ideal. My soul yearns70 for the Visionary. I stand behind the counter, it is true; but I ponder here upon the deeds of heroes, and muse71 over the thoughts of sages72. What is grocery for one who has ambition? What sweetness hath Muscovada to him who hath tasted of Poesy? The Ideal, lady, I often think, is the true Real, and the Actual, but a visionary hallucination. But pardon me; with what may I serve thee?”
“I came only for sixpenn’orth of tea-dust,” the girl said, with a faltering73 voice; “but oh, I should like to hear you speak on for ever!”
Only for sixpenn’orth of tea-dust? Girl, thou camest for other things! Thou lovedst his voice? Siren! what was the witchery of thine own? He deftly74 made up the packet, and placed it in the little hand. She paid for her small purchase, and with a farewell glance of her lustrous75 eyes, she left him. She passed slowly through the portal, and in a moment was lost in the crowd. It was noon in Chepe. And George de Barnwell was alone.
点击收听单词发音
1 truthful | |
adj.真实的,说实话的,诚实的 | |
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2 steadfast | |
adj.固定的,不变的,不动摇的;忠实的;坚贞不移的 | |
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3 idols | |
偶像( idol的名词复数 ); 受崇拜的人或物; 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物; 神像 | |
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4 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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5 amethyst | |
n.紫水晶 | |
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6 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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7 auguries | |
n.(古罗马)占卜术,占卜仪式( augury的名词复数 );预兆 | |
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8 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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9 bard | |
n.吟游诗人 | |
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10 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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11 woes | |
困境( woe的名词复数 ); 悲伤; 我好苦哇; 某人就要倒霉 | |
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12 avenger | |
n. 复仇者 | |
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13 strings | |
n.弦 | |
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14 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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15 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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16 gilded | |
a.镀金的,富有的 | |
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17 metropolitan | |
adj.大城市的,大都会的 | |
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18 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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19 laboring | |
n.劳动,操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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20 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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21 hustling | |
催促(hustle的现在分词形式) | |
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22 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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23 satire | |
n.讽刺,讽刺文学,讽刺作品 | |
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24 shrieked | |
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25 blazoned | |
v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 );宣布;夸示;装饰 | |
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26 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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27 urchins | |
n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 );淘气鬼;猬;海胆 | |
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28 labyrinth | |
n.迷宫;难解的事物;迷路 | |
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29 exacerbated | |
v.使恶化,使加重( exacerbate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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31 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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32 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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33 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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34 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35 flaunting | |
adj.招摇的,扬扬得意的,夸耀的v.炫耀,夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 );有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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36 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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37 glazed | |
adj.光滑的,像玻璃的;上过釉的;呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式);上釉于,上光;(目光)变得呆滞无神 | |
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38 rustics | |
n.有农村或村民特色的( rustic的名词复数 );粗野的;不雅的;用粗糙的木材或树枝制作的 | |
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39 savory | |
adj.风味极佳的,可口的,味香的 | |
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40 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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41 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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42 casements | |
n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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43 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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44 plume | |
n.羽毛;v.整理羽毛,骚首弄姿,用羽毛装饰 | |
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45 apron | |
n.围裙;工作裙 | |
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46 variegated | |
adj.斑驳的,杂色的 | |
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47 replenish | |
vt.补充;(把…)装满;(再)填满 | |
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48 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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49 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
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50 scorched | |
烧焦,烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(植物)枯萎,把…晒枯; 高速行驶; 枯焦 | |
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51 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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52 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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53 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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54 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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55 knave | |
n.流氓;(纸牌中的)杰克 | |
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56 filch | |
v.偷窃 | |
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57 impatience | |
n.不耐烦,急躁 | |
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58 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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59 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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60 tightened | |
收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)变紧; (使)绷紧; 加紧 | |
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61 sonorous | |
adj.响亮的,回响的;adv.圆润低沉地;感人地;n.感人,堂皇 | |
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62 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
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63 lingo | |
n.语言不知所云,外国话,隐语 | |
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64 figs | |
figures 数字,图形,外形 | |
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65 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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66 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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67 kindling | |
n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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68 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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69 pall | |
v.覆盖,使平淡无味;n.柩衣,棺罩;棺材;帷幕 | |
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70 yearns | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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71 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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72 sages | |
n.圣人( sage的名词复数 );智者;哲人;鼠尾草(可用作调料) | |
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73 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
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74 deftly | |
adv.灵巧地,熟练地,敏捷地 | |
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75 lustrous | |
adj.有光泽的;光辉的 | |
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