“All has suffered a sea-change
Into something rich and strange,”
in this fantastic city. The prose of earth has risen poetry from its baptism in the sea.
And if, living constantly in Venice, you sometimes for a little while forget how marvelous she is, at any moment you may be startled into vivid remembrance. The cunning city beguiles4 you street by street, and step by step, into some old court, where a flight of marble stairs leads high up to the pillared gallery of an empty palace, with a climbing vine green and purple on its old decay, and one or two gaunt trees stretching their heads to look into the lofty windows,—blind long ago to their leafy tenderness,—while at their feet is some sumptuously5 carven well, with the beauty of the sculptor’s soul wrought6 forever into the stone. Or Venice lures7 you in a gondola8 into one of her remote canals, where you glide9 through an avenue as secret and as still as if sea-deep under our work-day world; where the grim heads carven over the water-gates of the palaces stare at you in austere10 surprise, where the innumerable balconies are full of the Absences of gay cavaliers and gentle dames11, gossiping and making love to one another, from their airy perches12. Or if the city’s mood is one of bolder charm, she fascinates you in the very places where you think her power is the weakest, and as if impatient of your forgetfulness, dares a wilder beauty, and enthralls13 with a yet more unearthly and incredible enchantment14. It is in the Piazza15, and the Austrian band is playing, and the promenaders pace solemnly up and down to the music, and the gentle Italian loafers at Florian’s brood vacantly over their little cups of coffee, and nothing can be more stupid; when suddenly every thing is changed, and a memorable16 tournament flashes up in many-glittering action upon the scene, and there upon the gallery of the church, before the horses of bronze, sit the Senators, bright-robed, and in the midst the bonneted17 Doge with his guest Petrarch at his side. Or the old Carnival18, which had six months of every year to riot in, comes back and throngs19 the place with motley company,—dominoes, harlequins, pantaloni, illustrissimi and illustrissime, and perhaps even the Doge himself, who has the right of incognito20 when he wears a little mask of wax at his button-hole. Or may be the grander day revisits Venice when Doria has sent word from his fleet of Genoese at Chioggia that he will listen to the Senate when he has bridled21 the horses of Saint Mark,—and the whole Republic of rich and poor crowds the square, demanding the release of Pisani, who comes forth22 from his prison to create victory from the dust of the crumbling23 commonwealth24.
But whatever surprise of memorable or beautiful Venice may prepare for your forgetfulness, be sure it will be complete and resistless. Nay25, what potenter magic needs my Venice to revivify her past whenever she will, than the serpent cunning of her Grand Canal? Launched upon this great S have I not seen hardened travelers grow sentimental26, and has not this prodigious27 sybillant, in my hearing, inspired white-haired Puritan ministers of the gospel to attempt to quote out of the guide-book “that line from Byron”? Upon my word, I have sat beside wandering editors in their gondolas28, and witnessed the expulsion of the newspaper from their nature, while, lulled29 by the fascination30 of the place, they were powerless to take their own journals from their pockets, and instead of politics talked some bewildered nonsense about coming back with their families next summer. For myself, I must count as half-lost the year spent in Venice before I took a house upon the Grand Canal. There alone can existence have the perfect local flavor. But by what witchery touched one’s being suffers the common sea-change, till life at last seems to ebb31 and flow with the tide in that wonder-avenue of palaces, it would be idle to attempt to tell. I can only take you to our dear little balcony at Casa Falier, and comment not very coherently on the scene upon the water under us.
And I am sure (since it is either in the spring or the fall) you will not be surprised to see, the first thing, a boat-load of those English, who go by from the station to their hotels, every day, in well-freighted gondolas. These parties of traveling Englishry are all singularly alike, from the “Pa’ty” traveling alone with his opera-glass and satchel32, to the party which fills a gondola with well-cushioned English middle age, ruddy English youth, and substantial English baggage. We have learnt to know them all very well: the father and the mother sit upon the back seat, and their comely33 girls at the sides and front. These girls all have the honest cabbage-roses of English health upon their cheeks; they all wear little rowdy English hats, and invariable waterfalls of hair tumble upon their broad English backs. They are coming from Switzerland and Germany, and they are going south to Rome and to Naples, and they always pause at Venice a few days. To-morrow we shall see them in the Piazza, and at Florian’s, and St. Mark’s, and the Ducal Palace; and the young ladies will cross the Bridge of Sighs, and will sentimentally34 feed the vagabond pigeons of St. Mark which loaf about the Piazza and defile35 the sculptures. But now our travelers are themselves very hungry, and are more anxious than Americans can understand about the table-d’h?te of their hotel. It is perfectly36 certain that if they fall into talk there with any of our nation, the respectable English father will remark that this war in America is a very sad war, and will ask to know when it will all end. The truth is, Americans do not like these people, and I believe there is no love lost on the other side. But, in many things, they are travelers to be honored, if not liked: they voyage through all countries, and without awaking fervent37 affection in any land through which they pass; but their sterling38 honesty and truth have made the English tongue a draft upon the unlimited39 confidence of the continental40 peoples, and French, Germans, and Italians trust and respect private English faith as cordially as they hate public English perfidy41.
They come to Venice chiefly in the autumn, and October is the month of the Sunsets and the English. The former are best seen from the Public Gardens, whence one looks westward42, and beholds43 them glorious behind the domes44 and towers of San Giorgio Maggiore and the church of the Redentore. Sometimes, when the sky is clear, your sunset on the lagoon45 is a fine thing; for then the sun goes down into the water with a broad trail of bloody46 red behind him, as if, wounded far out at sea, he had dragged himself landward across the crimsoning48 expanses, and fallen and died as he reached the land. But we (upon whom the idleness of Venice grows daily, and from whom the Gardens, therefore, grow farther and farther) are commonly content to take our bit of sunset as we get it from our balcony, through the avenue opened by the narrow canal opposite. We like the earlier afternoon to have been a little rainy, when we have our sunset splendid as the fury of a passionate49 beauty—all tears and fire. There is a pretty but impertinent little palace on the corner which is formed by this canal as it enters the Canalazzo, and from the palace, high over the smaller channel, hangs an airy balcony. When the sunset sky, under and over the balcony, is of that pathetic and angry red which I have tried to figure, we think ourselves rich in the neighborhood of that part of the “Palace of Art,” whereon
“The light aerial gallery, golden railed,
Burnt like a fringe of fire.”
And so, after all, we do not think we have lost any greater thing in not seeing the sunset from the Gardens, where half a dozen artists are always painting it, or from the quay50 of the Zattere, where it is splendid over and under the island church of San Giorgio in Alga.
It is only the English and the other tourist strangers who go by upon the Grand Canal during the day. But in the hours just before the summer twilight51 the gondolas of the citizens appear, and then you may see whatever is left of Venetian gayety and looking down upon the groups in the open gondolas may witness something of the home-life of the Italians, who live out-of-doors.
The groups do not vary a great deal one from another: inevitably52 the pale-faced papa, the fat mamma, the over-dressed handsome young girls. We learned to look for certain gondolas, and grew to feel a fond interest in a very mild young man who took the air in company and contrast with a ferocious53 bull-dog—boule-dogue he called him, I suppose. He was always smoking languidly, that mild young man, and I fancied I could read in his countenance54 a gentle, gentle antagonism55 to life—the proportionate Byronic misanthropy, which might arise from sugar and water taken instead of gin. But we really knew nothing about him, and our conjecture56 was conjecture. Officers went by in their brilliant uniforms, and gave the scene an alien splendor57. Among these we enjoyed best the spectacle of an old major, or perhaps general, in whom the arrogance58 of youth had stiffened59 into a chill hauteur60, and who frowned above his gray overwhelming moustache upon the passers, like a citadel61 grim with battle and age. We used to fancy, with a certain luxurious62 sense of our own safety, that one broadside from those fortressed eyes could blow from the water the slight pleasure-boats in which the young Venetian idlers were innocently disporting63. But again this was merely conjecture. The general’s glance may have had no such power. Indeed, the furniture of our apartment sustained no damage from it, even when concentrated through an opera-glass, by which means the brave officer at times perused65 our humble66 lodging67 from the balcony of his own over against us. He may have been no more dangerous in his way than two aged68 sisters (whom we saw every evening) were in theirs. They represented Beauty in its most implacable and persevering69 form, and perhaps they had one day been belles70 and could not forget it. They were very old indeed, but their dresses were new and their paint fresh, and as they glided71 by in the good-natured twilight, one had no heart to smile at them. We gave our smiles, and now and then our soldi, to the swarthy beggar, who, being short of legs, rowed up and down the canal in a boat, and overhauled72 Charity in the gondolas. He was a singular compromise, in his vocation73 and his equipment, between the mendicant74 and corsair: I fear he would not have hesitated to assume the pirate altogether in lonelier waters; and had I been a heavily laden75 oyster-boat returning by night through some remote and dark canal, I would have steered76 clear of that truculent-looking craft, of which the crew must have fought with a desperation proportioned to the lack of legs and the difficulty of running away, in case of defeat.
About nightfall came the market boats on their way to the Rialto market, bringing heaped fruits and vegetables from the main-land; and far into the night the soft dip of the oar77, and the gurgling progress of the boats was company and gentlest lullaby. By which time, if we looked out again, we found the moon risen, and the ghost of dead Venice shadowily happy in haunting the lonesome palaces, and the sea, which had so loved Venice, kissing and caressing78 the tide-worn marble steps where her feet seemed to rest.
At night sometimes we saw from our balcony one of those freschi, which once formed the chief splendor of festive79 occasions in Venice, and are peculiar80 to the city, where alone their fine effects are possible. The fresco81 is a procession of boats with music and lights. Two immense barges82, illumined with hundreds of paper lanterns, carry the military bands; the boats of the civil and military dignitaries follow, and then the gondolas of such citizens as choose to take part in the display,—though since 1859 no Italian, unless a government official, has been seen in the procession. No gondola has less than two lanterns, and many have eight or ten, shedding mellow84 lights of blue, and red, and purple, over uniforms and silken robes. The soldiers of the bands breathe from their instruments music the most perfect and exquisite85 of its kind in the world; and as the procession takes the width of the Grand Canal in its magnificent course, soft crimson47 flushes play upon the old, weather-darkened palaces, and die tenderly away, giving to light and then to shadow the opulent sculptures of pillar, and arch, and spandrel, and weirdly86 illuminating87 the grim and bearded visages of stone that peer down from doorway88 and window. It is a sight more gracious and fairy than ever poet dreamed; and I feel that the lights and the music have only got into my description by name, and that you would not know them when you saw and heard them, from any thing I say. In other days, people tell you, the fresco was much more impressive than now. At intervals89, rockets used to be sent up, and the Bengal lights, burned during the progress of the boats, threw the gondoliers’ spectral90 shadows, giant-huge, on the palace-walls. But, for my part, I do not care to have the fresco other than I know it: indeed, for my own selfish pleasure, I should be sorry to have Venice in any way less fallen and forlorn than she is.
Without doubt the most picturesque91 craft ever seen on the Grand Canal are the great boats of the river Po, which, crossing the lagoons92 from Chioggia, come up to the city with the swelling93 sea. They are built with a pointed94 stern and bow rising with the sweep of a short curve from the water high above the cabin roof, which is always covered with a straw matting. Black is not the color of the gondolas alone, but of all boats in Venetia; and these of the Po are like immense funeral barges, and any one of them might be sent to take King Arthur and bear him to Avilon, whither I think most of them are bound. A path runs along either gunwale, on which the men pace as they pole the boat up the canal,—her great sail folded and lying with the prostrate95 mast upon the deck. The rudder is a prodigious affair, and the man at the helm is commonly kind enough to wear a red cap with a blue tassel96, and to smoke. The other persons on board are no less obliging and picturesque, from the dark-eyed young mother who sits with her child in her arms at the cabin-door, to the bronze boy who figures in play at her feet with a small yellow dog of the race already noticed in charge of the fuel-boats from Dalmatia. The father of the family, whom we take to be the commander of the vessel97, occupies himself gracefully98 in sitting down and gazing at the babe and its mother. It is an old habit of mine, formed in childhood from looking at rafts upon the Ohio, to attribute, with a kind of heart-ache, supreme99 earthly happiness to the navigators of lazy river craft; and as we glance down upon these people from our balcony, I choose to think them immensely contented100, and try, in a feeble, tacit way, to make friends with so much bliss101. But I am always repelled102 in these advances by the small yellow dog, who is rendered extremely irascible by my contemplation of the boat under his care, and who, ruffling103 his hair as a hen ruffles104 her feathers, never fails to bark furious resentment105 of my longing106.
Far different from the picture presented by this boat’s progress—the peacefulness of which even the bad temper of the small yellow dog could not mar—was another scene which we witnessed upon the Grand Canal, when one morning we were roused from our breakfast by a wild and lamentable107 outcry. Two large boats, attempting to enter the small canal opposite at the same time, had struck together with a violence that shook the boatmen to their inmost souls. One barge83 was laden with lime, and belonged to a plasterer of the city; the other was full of fuel, and commanded by a virulent108 rustic109. These rival captains advanced toward the bows of their boats, with murderous looks,
“Con3 la test’alta e con rabbiosa fame,
Sì che parea che l’aer ne temesse,”
and there stamped furiously, and beat the wind with hands of deathful challenge, while I looked on with that noble interest which the enlightened mind always feels in people about to punch each other’s heads.
But the storm burst in words.
“Figure of a pig!” shrieked110 the Venetian, “you have ruined my boat forever!”
“Thou liest, son of an ugly old dog!” returned the countryman, “and it was my right to enter the canal first.”
They then, after this exchange of insult, abandoned the main subject of dispute, and took up the quarrel laterally111 and in detail. Reciprocally questioning the reputation of all their female relatives to the third and fourth cousins, they defied each other as the offspring of assassins and prostitutes. As the peace-making tide gradually drifted their boats asunder112, their anger rose, and they danced back and forth and hurled113 opprobrium114 with a foamy115 volubility that quite left my powers of comprehension behind. At last the townsman, executing a pas seul of uncommon116 violence, stooped and picked up a bit of lime, while the countryman, taking shelter at the stern of his boat, there attended the shot. To my infinite disappointment it was not fired. The Venetian seemed to have touched the climax117 of his passion in the mere64 demonstration118 of hostility119, and gently gathering120 up his oar gave the countryman the right of way. The courage of the latter rose as the danger passed, and as far as he could be heard, he continued to exult121 in the wildest excesses of insult: “Ah-heigh! brutal122 executioner! Ah, hideous123 headsman!” Da capo. I now know that these people never intended to do more than quarrel, and no doubt they parted as well pleased as if they had actually carried broken heads from the encounter. But at the time I felt affronted124 and trifled with by the result, for my disappointments arising out of the dramatic manner of the Italians had not yet been frequent enough to teach me to expect nothing from it.
There was some compensation for me—coming, like all compensation, a long while after the loss—in the spectacle of a funeral procession on the Grand Canal, which had a singular and imposing125 solemnity only possible to the place. It was the funeral of an Austrian general, whose coffin126, mounted on a sable127 catafalco, was borne upon the middle boat of three that moved abreast128. The barges on either side bristled129 with the bayonets of soldiery, but the dead man was alone in his boat, except for one strange figure that stood at the head of the coffin, and rested its glittering hand upon the black fall of the drapery. This was a man clad cap-a-pie in a perfect suit of gleaming mail, with his visor down, and his shoulders swept by the heavy raven130 plumes131 of his helm. As at times he moved from side to side, and glanced upward at the old palaces, sad in the yellow morning light, he put out of sight, for me, every thing else upon the Canal, and seemed the ghost of some crusader come back to Venice, in wonder if this city, lying dead under the hoofs132 of the Croat, were indeed that same haughty133 Lady of the Sea who had once sent her blind old Doge to beat down the pride of an empire and disdain134 its crown.
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1
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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2
lyric
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| n.抒情诗，歌词；adj.抒情的 | |
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3
con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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4
beguiles
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| v.欺骗( beguile的第三人称单数 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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5
sumptuously
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| 奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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6
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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7
lures
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| 吸引力，魅力（lure的复数形式） | |
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8
gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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9
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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10
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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11
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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12
perches
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| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
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13
enthralls
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的第三人称单数 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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14
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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bonneted
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| 发动机前置的 | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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19
throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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20
incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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21
bridled
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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28
gondolas
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| n.狭长小船( gondola的名词复数 )；货架（一般指商店，例如化妆品店）；吊船工作台 | |
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29
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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35
defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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37
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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38
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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39
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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40
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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41
perfidy
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| n.背信弃义，不忠贞 | |
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42
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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43
beholds
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| v.看，注视( behold的第三人称单数 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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44
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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45
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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46
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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47
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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48
crimsoning
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| 变为深红色（crimson的现在分词形式） | |
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49
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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50
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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51
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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52
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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53
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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54
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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55
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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56
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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57
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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58
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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59
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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60
hauteur
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| n.傲慢 | |
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61
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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62
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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63
disporting
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| v.嬉戏，玩乐，自娱( disport的现在分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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66
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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67
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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68
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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69
persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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70
belles
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| n.美女( belle的名词复数 )；最美的美女 | |
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71
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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72
overhauled
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| v.彻底检查( overhaul的过去式和过去分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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73
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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74
mendicant
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| n.乞丐；adj.行乞的 | |
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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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76
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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77
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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78
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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81
fresco
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| n.壁画；vt.作壁画于 | |
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82
barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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83
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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84
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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85
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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weirdly
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| 古怪地 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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88
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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lagoons
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| n.污水池( lagoon的名词复数 )；潟湖；（大湖或江河附近的）小而浅的淡水湖；温泉形成的池塘 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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tassel
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| n.流苏，穗；v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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98
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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101
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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102
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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103
ruffling
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| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
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104
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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105
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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106
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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107
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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109
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
laterally
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| ad.横向地；侧面地；旁边地 | |
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112
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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113
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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114
opprobrium
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| n.耻辱，责难 | |
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115
foamy
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| adj.全是泡沫的，泡沫的，起泡沫的 | |
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116
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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117
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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118
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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119
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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120
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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121
exult
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| v.狂喜，欢腾；欢欣鼓舞 | |
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122
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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123
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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124
affronted
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| adj.被侮辱的，被冒犯的v.勇敢地面对( affront的过去式和过去分词 )；相遇 | |
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125
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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126
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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127
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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128
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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129
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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130
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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131
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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132
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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133
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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134
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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