A Voice is heard from the jaws3 of an Animal; a Hand writes on the wall before a feasting Court; an Eye gleams in the slumber4 of a king, and a Prophet explains the dream; Death, evoked5, rises on the confines of the luminous6 sphere were faculties7 revive; Spirit annihilates8 Matter at the foot of that mystic ladder of the Seven Spiritual Worlds, one resting upon another in space and revealing themselves in shining waves that break in light upon the steps of the celestial9 Tabernacle. But however solemn the inward Revelation, however clear the visible outward Sign, be sure that on the morrow Balaam doubts both himself and his ass10, Belshazzar and Pharoah call Moses and Daniel to qualify the Word. The Spirit, descending11, bears man above this earth, opens the seas and lets him see their depths, shows him lost species, wakens dry bones whose dust is the soil of valleys; the Apostle writes the Apocalypse, and twenty centuries later human science ratifies12 his words and turns his visions into maxims13. And what comes of it all? Why this — that the peoples live as they have ever lived, as they lived in the first Olympiad, as they lived on the morrow of Creation, and on the eve of the great cataclysm14. The waves of Doubt have covered all things. The same floods surge with the same measured motion on the human granite15 which serves as a boundary to the ocean of intelligence. When man has inquired of himself whether he has seen that which he has seen, whether he has heard the words that entered his ears, whether the facts were facts and the idea is indeed an idea, then he resumes his wonted bearing, thinks of his worldly interests, obeys some envoy16 of death and of oblivion whose dusky mantle17 covers like a pall18 an ancient Humanity of which the moderns retain no memory. Man never pauses; he goes his round, he vegetates19 until the appointed day when his Axe20 falls. If this wave force, this pressure of bitter waters prevents all progress, no doubt it also warns of death. Spirits prepared by faith among the higher souls of earth can alone perceive the mystic ladder of Jacob.
After listening to Seraphita’s answer in which (being earnestly questioned) she unrolled before their eyes a Divine Perspective — as an organ fills a church with sonorous21 sound and reveals a musical universe, its solemn tones rising to the loftiest arches and playing, like light, upon their foliated capitals — Wilfrid returned to his own room, awed23 by the sight of a world in ruins, and on those ruins the brilliance24 of mysterious lights poured forth25 in torrents26 by the hand of a young girl. On the morrow he still thought of these things, but his awe22 was gone; he felt he was neither destroyed nor changed; his passions, his ideas awoke in full force, fresh and vigorous. He went to breakfast with Monsieur Becker and found the old man absorbed in the “Treatise on Incantations,” which he had searched since early morning to convince his guest that there was nothing unprecedented29 in all that they had seen and heard at the Swedish castle. With the childlike trustfulness of a true scholar he had folded down the pages in which Jean Wier related authentic30 facts which proved the possibility of the events that had happened the night before — for to learned men an idea is a event, just as the greatest events often present no idea at all to them. By the time they had swallowed their fifth cup of tea, these philosophers had come to think the mysterious scene of the preceding evening wholly natural. The celestial truths to which they had listened were arguments susceptible31 of examination; Seraphita was a girl, more or less eloquent32; allowance must be made for the charms of her voice, her seductive beauty, her fascinating motions, in short, for all those oratorical33 arts by which an actor puts a world of sentiment and thought into phrases which are often commonplace.
“Bah!” said the worthy34 pastor35, making a philosophical36 grimace37 as he spread a layer of salt butter on his slice of bread, “the final word of all these fine enigmas38 is six feet under ground.”
“But,” said Wilfrid, sugaring his tea, “I cannot image how a young girl of seventeen can know so much; what she said was certainly a compact argument.”
“Read the account of that Italian woman,” said Monsieur Becker, “who at the age of twelve spoke39 forty-two languages, ancient and modern; also the history of that monk40 who could guess thought by smell. I can give you a thousand such cases from Jean Wier and other writers.”
“I admit all that, dear pastor; but to my thinking, Seraphita would make a perfect wife.”
“She is all mind,” said Monsieur Becker, dubiously41.
Several days went by, during which the snow in the valleys melted gradually away; the green of the forests and of the grass began to show; Norwegian Nature made ready her wedding garments for her brief bridal of a day. During this period, when the softened42 air invited every one to leave the house, Seraphita remained at home in solitude43. When at last she admitted Minna the latter saw at once the ravages45 of inward fever; Seraphita’s voice was hollow, her skin pallid46; hitherto a poet might have compared her lustre47 to that of diamonds — now it was that of a topaz.
“Have you seen her?” asked Wilfrid, who had wandered around the Swedish dwelling48 waiting for Minna’s return.
“Yes,” answered the young girl, weeping; “We must lose him!”
“Mademoiselle,” cried Wilfrid, endeavoring to repress the loud tones of his angry voice, “do not jest with me. You can love Seraphita only as one young girl can love another, and not with the love which she inspires in me. You do not know your danger if my jealousy49 were really aroused. Why can I not go to her? Is it you who stand in my way?”
“I do not know by what right you probe my heart,” said Minna, calm in appearance, but inwardly terrified. “Yes, I love him,” she said, recovering the courage of her convictions, that she might, for once, confess the religion of her heart. “But my jealousy, natural as it is in love, fears no one here below. Alas50! I am jealous of a secret feeling that absorbs him. Between him and me there is a great gulf51 fixed52 which I cannot cross. Would that I knew who loves him best, the stars or I! which of us would sacrifice our being most eagerly for his happiness! Why should I not be free to avow53 my love? In the presence of death we may declare our feelings — and Seraphitus is about to die.”
“Minna, you are mistaken; the siren I so love and long for, she, whom I have seen, feeble and languid, on her couch of furs, is not a young man.”
“Monsieur,” answered Minna, distressfully, “the being whose powerful hand guided me on the Falberg, who led me to the saeter sheltered beneath the Ice-Cap, there —” she said, pointing to the peak, “is not a feeble girl. Ah, had you but heard him prophesying54! His poem was the music of thought. A young girl never uttered those solemn tones of a voice which stirred my soul.”
“What certainty have you?” said Wilfrid.
“None but that of the heart,” answered Minna.
“And I,” cried Wilfrid, casting on his companion the terrible glance of the earthly desire that kills, “I, too, know how powerful is her empire over me, and I will undeceive you.”
At this moment, while the words were rushing from Wilfrid’s lips as rapidly as the thoughts surged in his brain, they saw Seraphita coming towards them from the house, followed by David. The apparition55 calmed the man’s excitement.
“Look,” he said, “could any but a woman move with that grace and langor?”
“He suffers; he comes forth for the last time,” said Minna.
David went back at a sign from his mistress, who advanced towards Wilfrid and Minna.
“Let us go to the falls of the Sieg,” she said, expressing one of those desires which suddenly possess the sick and which the well hasten to obey.
A thin white mist covered the valleys around the fiord and the sides of the mountains, whose icy summits, sparkling like stars, pierced the vapor56 and gave it the appearance of a moving milky57 way. The sun was visible through the haze58 like a globe of red fire. Though winter still lingered, puffs59 of warm air laden60 with the scent61 of the birch-trees, already adorned62 with their rosy63 efflorescence, and of the larches64, whose silken tassels65 were beginning to appear — breezes tempered by the incense66 and the sighs of earth — gave token of the glorious Northern spring, the rapid, fleeting67 joy of that most melancholy68 of Natures. The wind was beginning to lift the veil of mist which half-obscured the gulf. The birds sang. The bark of the trees where the sun had not yet dried the clinging hoar-frost shone gayly to the eye in its fantastic wreathings which trickled69 away in murmuring rivulets70 as the warmth reached them. The three friends walked in silence along the shore. Wilfrid and Minna alone noticed the magic transformation71 that was taking place in the monotonous72 picture of the winter landscape. Their companion walked in thought, as though a voice were sounding to her ears in this concert of Nature.
Presently they reached the ledge73 of rocks through which the Sieg had forced its way, after escaping from the long avenue cut by its waters in an undulating line through the forest — a fluvial pathway flanked by aged74 firs and roofed with strong-ribbed arches like those of a cathedral. Looking back from that vantage-ground, the whole extent of the fiord could be seen at a glance, with the open sea sparkling on the horizon beyond it like a burnished75 blade.
At this moment the mist, rolling away, left the sky blue and clear. Among the valleys and around the trees flitted the shining fragments — a diamond dust swept by the freshening breeze. The torrent27 rolled on toward them; along its length a vapor rose, tinted76 by the sun with every color of his light; the decomposing77 rays flashing prismatic fires along the many-tinted scarf of waters. The rugged78 ledge on which they stood was carpeted by several kinds of lichen79, forming a noble mat variegated80 by moisture and lustrous81 like the sheen of a silken fabric82. Shrubs83, already in bloom, crowned the rocks with garlands. Their waving foliage84, eager for the freshness of the water, drooped85 its tresses above the stream; the larches shook their light fringes and played with the pines, stiff and motionless as aged men. This luxuriant beauty was foiled by the solemn colonnades86 of the forest-trees, rising in terraces upon the mountains, and by the calm sheet of the fiord, lying below, where the torrent buried its fury and was still. Beyond, the sea hemmed87 in this page of Nature, written by the greatest of poets, Chance; to whom the wild luxuriance of creation when apparently88 abandoned to itself is owing.
The village of Jarvis was a lost point in the landscape, in this immensity of Nature, sublime89 at this moment like all things else of ephemeral life which present a fleeting image of perfection; for, by a law fatal to no eyes but our own, creations which appear complete — the love of our heart and the desire of our eyes — have but one spring-tide here below. Standing90 on this breast-work of rock these three persons might well suppose themselves alone in the universe.
“What beauty!” cried Wilfrid.
“Nature sings hymns,” said Seraphita. “Is not her music exquisite91? Tell me, Wilfrid, could any of the women you once knew create such a glorious retreat for herself as this? I am conscious here of a feeling seldom inspired by the sight of cities, a longing92 to lie down amid this quickening verdure. Here, with eyes to heaven and an open heart, lost in the bosom93 of immensity, I could hear the sighings of the flower, scarce budded, which longs for wings, or the cry of the eider grieving that it can only fly, and remember the desires of man who, issuing from all, is none the less ever longing. But that, Wilfrid, is only a woman’s thought. You find seductive fancies in the wreathing mists, the light embroidered94 veils which Nature dons like a coy maiden95, in this atmosphere where she perfumes for her spousals the greenery of her tresses. You seek the naiad’s form amid the gauzy vapors96, and to your thinking my ears should listen only to the virile97 voice of the Torrent.”
“But Love is there, like the bee in the calyx of the flower,” replied Wilfrid, perceiving for the first time a trace of earthly sentiment in her words, and fancying the moment favorable for an expression of his passionate98 tenderness.
“Always there?” said Seraphita, smiling. Minna had left them for a moment to gather the blue saxifrages growing on a rock above.
“Always,” repeated Wilfrid. “Hear me,” he said, with a masterful glance which was foiled as by a diamond breast-plate. “You know not what I am, nor what I can be, nor what I will. Do not reject my last entreaty99. Be mine for the good of that world whose happiness you bear upon your heart. Be mine that my conscience may be pure; that a voice divine may sound in my ears and infuse Good into the great enterprise I have undertaken prompted by my hatred100 to the nations, but which I swear to accomplish for their benefit if you will walk beside me. What higher mission can you ask for love? what nobler part can woman aspire101 to? I came to Norway to meditate102 a grand design.”
“And you will sacrifice its grandeur,” she said, “to an innocent girl who loves you, and who will lead you in the paths of peace.”
“What matters sacrifice,” he cried, “if I have you? Hear my secret. I have gone from end to end of the North — that great smithy from whose anvils103 new races have spread over the earth, like human tides appointed to refresh the wornout civilizations. I wished to begin my work at some Northern point, to win the empire which force and intellect must ever give over a primitive104 people; to form that people for battle, to drive them to wars which should ravage44 Europe like a conflagration105, crying liberty to some, pillage106 to others, glory here, pleasure there! — I, myself, remaining an image of Destiny, cruel, implacable, advancing like the whirlwind, which sucks from the atmosphere the particles that make the thunderbolt, and falls like a devouring107 scourge108 upon the nations. Europe is at an epoch109 when she awaits the new Messiah who shall destroy society and remake it. She can no longer believe except in him who crushes her under foot. The day is at hand when poets and historians will justify110 me, exalt111 me, and borrow my ideas, mine! And all the while my triumph will be a jest, written in blood, the jest of my vengeance112! But not here, Seraphita; what I see in the North disgusts me. Hers is a mere113 blind force; I thirst for the Indies! I would rather fight a selfish, cowardly, mercantile government. Besides, it is easier to stir the imagination of the peoples at the feet of the Caucasus than to argue with the intellect of the icy lands which here surround me. Therefore am I tempted114 to cross the Russian steps and pour my triumphant115 human tide through Asia to the Ganges, and overthrow116 the British rule. Seven men have done this thing before me in other epochs of the world. I will emulate117 them. I will spread Art like the Saracens, hurled118 by Mohammed upon Europe. Mine shall be no paltry119 sovereignty like those that govern to-day the ancient provinces of the Roman empire, disputing with their subjects about a customs right! No, nothing can bar my way! Like Genghis Khan, my feet shall tread a third of the globe, my hand shall grasp the throat of Asia like Aurung-Zeb. Be my companion! Let me seat thee, beautiful and noble being, on a throne! I do not doubt success, but live within my heart and I am sure of it.”
“I have already reigned,” said Seraphita, coldly.
The words fell as the axe of a skilful120 woodman falls at the root of a young tree and brings it down at a single blow. Men alone can comprehend the rage that a woman excites in the soul of a man when, after showing her his strength, his power, his wisdom, his superiority, the capricious creature bends her head and says, “All that is nothing”; when, unmoved, she smiles and says, “Such things are known to me,” as though his power were nought121.
“What!” cried Wilfrid, in despair, “can the riches of art, the riches of worlds, the splendors122 of a court —”
She stopped him by a single inflexion of her lips, and said, “Beings more powerful than you have offered me far more.”
“Thou hast no soul,” he cried — “no soul, if thou art not persuaded by the thought of comforting a great man, who is willing now to sacrifice all things to live beside thee in a little house on the shores of a lake.”
“But,” she said, “I am loved with a boundless123 love.”
“By whom?” cried Wilfrid, approaching Seraphita with a frenzied124 movement, as if to fling her into the foaming125 basin of the Sieg.
She looked at him and slowly extended her arm, pointing to Minna, who now sprang towards her, fair and glowing and lovely as the flowers she held in her hand.
“Child!” said Seraphitus, advancing to meet her.
Wilfrid remained where she left him, motionless as the rock on which he stood, lost in thought, longing to let himself go into the torrent of the Sieg, like the fallen trees which hurried past his eyes and disappeared in the bosom of the gulf.
“I gathered them for you,” said Minna, offering the bunch of saxifrages to the being she adored. “One of them, see, this one,” she added, selecting a flower, “is like that you found on the Falberg.”
Seraphitus looked alternately at the flower and at Minna.
“Why question me? Dost thou doubt me?”
“No,” said the young girl, “my trust in you is infinite. You are more beautiful to look upon than this glorious nature, but your mind surpasses in intellect that of all humanity. When I have been with you I seem to have prayed to God. I long —”
“For what?” said Seraphitus, with a glance that revealed to the young girl the vast distance which separated them.
“To suffer in your stead.”
“Ah, dangerous being!” cried Seraphitus in his heart. “Is it wrong, oh my God! to desire to offer her to Thee? Dost thou remember, Minna, what I said to thee up there?” he added, pointing to the summit of the Ice-Cap.
“He is terrible again,” thought Minna, trembling with fear.
The voice of the Sieg accompanied the thoughts of the three beings united on this platform of projecting rock, but separated in soul by the abysses of the Spiritual World.
“Seraphitus! teach me,” said Minna in a silvery voice, soft as the motion of a sensitive plant, “teach me how to cease to love you. Who could fail to admire you; love is an admiration126 that never wearies.”
“Poor child!” said Seraphitus, turning pale; “there is but one whom thou canst love in that way.”
“Who?” asked Minna.
“Thou shalt know hereafter,” he said, in the feeble voice of a man who lies down to die.
“Help, help! he is dying!” cried Minna.
Wilfrid ran towards them. Seeing Seraphita as she lay on a fragment of gneiss, where time had cast its velvet127 mantle of lustrous lichen and tawny128 mosses129 now burnished in the sunlight, he whispered softly, “How beautiful she is!”
“One other look! the last that I shall ever cast upon this nature in travail,” said Seraphitus, rallying her strength and rising to her feet.
She advanced to the edge of the rocky platform, whence her eyes took in the scenery of that grand and glorious landscape, so verdant130, flowery, and animated131, yet so lately buried in its winding-sheet of snow.
“Farewell,” she said, “farewell, home of Earth, warmed by the fires of Love; where all things press with ardent132 force from the centre to the extremities133; where the extremities are gathered up, like a woman’s hair, to weave the mysterious braid which binds134 us in that invisible ether to the Thought Divine!
“Behold135 the man bending above that furrow136 moistened with his tears, who lifts his head for an instant to question Heaven; behold the woman gathering137 her children that she may feed them with her milk; see him who lashes138 the ropes in the height of the gale139; see her who sits in the hollow of the rocks, awaiting the father! Behold all they who stretch their hands in want after a lifetime spent in thankless toil140. To all peace and courage, and to all farewell!
“Hear you the cry of the soldier, dying nameless and unknown? the wail141 of the man deceived who weeps in the desert? To them peace and courage; to all farewell!
“Farewell, you who die for the kings of the earth! Farewell, ye people without a country and ye countries without a people, each, with a mutual142 want. Above all, farewell to Thee who knew not where to lay Thy head, Exile divine! Farewell, mothers beside your dying sons! Farewell, ye Little Ones, ye Feeble, ye Suffering, you whose sorrows I have so often borne! Farewell, all ye who have descended143 into the sphere of Instinct that you may suffer there for others!
“Farewell, ye mariners144 who seek the Orient through the thick darkness of your abstractions, vast as principles! Farewell, martyrs145 of thought, led by thought into the presence of the True Light. Farewell, regions of study where mine ears can hear the plaint of genius neglected and insulted, the sigh of the patient scholar to whom enlightenment comes too late!
“I see the angelic choir146, the wafting147 of perfumes, the incense of the heart of those who go their way consoling, praying, imparting celestial balm and living light to suffering souls! Courage, ye choir of Love! you to whom the peoples cry, ‘Comfort us, comfort us, defend us!’ To you courage! and farewell!
“Farewell, ye granite rocks that shall bloom a flower; farewell, flower that becomes a dove; farewell, dove that shalt be woman; farewell, woman, who art Suffering, man, who art Belief! Farewell, you who shall be all love, all prayer!”
Broken with fatigue148, this inexplicable149 being leaned for the first time on Wilfrid and on Minna to be taken home. Wilfrid and Minna felt the shock of a mysterious contact in and through the being who thus connected them. They had scarcely advanced a few steps when David met them, weeping. “She will die,” he said, “why have you brought her hither?”
The old man raised her in his arms with the vigor28 of youth and bore her to the gate of the Swedish castle like an eagle bearing a white lamb to his mountain eyrie.
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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annihilates
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| n.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的名词复数 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的第三人称单数 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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ratifies
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| v.批准，签认（合约等）( ratify的第三人称单数 ) | |
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maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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cataclysm
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| n.洪水，剧变，大灾难 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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envoy
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| n.使节，使者，代表，公使 | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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vegetates
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| v.过单调呆板的生活( vegetate的第三人称单数 )；植物似地生长；（瘤、疣等）长大 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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sonorous
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| 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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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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brilliance
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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vigor
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unprecedented
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authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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susceptible
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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oratorical
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| adj.演说的，雄辩的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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pastor
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philosophical
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grimace
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enigmas
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| n.难于理解的问题、人、物、情况等，奥秘( enigma的名词复数 ) | |
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spoke
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| 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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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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43
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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44
ravage
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| vt.使...荒废，破坏...；n.破坏，掠夺，荒废 | |
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45
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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46
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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47
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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48
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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49
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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50
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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51
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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52
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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53
avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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54
prophesying
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的现在分词 ) | |
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55
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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56
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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57
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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58
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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59
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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60
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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61
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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62
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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63
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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64
larches
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| n.落叶松（木材）( larch的名词复数 ) | |
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65
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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66
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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67
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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68
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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69
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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70
rivulets
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| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
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71
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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72
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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73
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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74
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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75
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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76
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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77
decomposing
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| 腐烂( decompose的现在分词 )； （使）分解； 分解（某物质、光线等） | |
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78
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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79
lichen
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| n.地衣, 青苔 | |
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80
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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81
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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82
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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83
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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84
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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85
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
colonnades
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| n.石柱廊( colonnade的名词复数 ) | |
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87
hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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88
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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89
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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90
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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91
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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92
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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93
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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94
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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95
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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96
vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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97
virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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98
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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99
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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100
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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101
aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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102
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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103
anvils
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| n.（铁）砧( anvil的名词复数 )；砧骨 | |
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104
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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105
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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106
pillage
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| v.抢劫；掠夺；n.抢劫，掠夺；掠夺物 | |
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107
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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108
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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109
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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110
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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111
exalt
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| v.赞扬，歌颂，晋升，提升 | |
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112
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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113
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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114
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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115
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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116
overthrow
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| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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117
emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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118
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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119
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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120
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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121
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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122
splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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123
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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124
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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125
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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126
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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127
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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128
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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129
mosses
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| n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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130
verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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131
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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132
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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133
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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134
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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135
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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136
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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137
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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138
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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139
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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140
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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141
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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142
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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143
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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144
mariners
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| 海员，水手（mariner的复数形式） | |
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145
martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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146
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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147
wafting
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
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148
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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149
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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