I had one moment of thrills this day. I had just emerged from a wood on to a grassy4 ridge5 of the mountain, when I saw a shepherd’s camping-ground guarded 132by dogs. The dogs saw me at the same moment, and all four came tearing along towards me. They were something between bull-dogs and mastiffs, and I had a good mind to climb a tree at once. But something restrained me; the dogs were perhaps too close; I had a cudgel in my hand, I grasped it firmly and awaited the onslaught. Every dog’s eye was riveted6 on my stick, and they all slackened speed suddenly and skirmished to bite at my heels or dart7 under my arm. They failed and slunk off; they were only uncivilised collies after all. I was relieved. Many a man in my position might have fired a revolver and then the owners of the dogs would have declared war. I recalled the words of Freshfield, the mountaineer, concerning such positions: “It is judicious8 to avoid petty wrangles9 with Ossetes and to tranquillise their sheep-dogs with ice-axes rather than to dismiss them with firearms.” A shepherd came up to me in a few minutes and began the common series of interrogations—Where do you come from? Where are you going to? Why? What are you—a Russian? I answered him very vaguely10 that I was going to Dalin-Dalin, a little village near by, on business, and that I was not a Russian. “You ought to be afraid to go in these parts,” said he, “many men get killed; a mate of mine was murdered near here last month.”
I heard him with a little thrill, but did not alter my plans. I found a bush, and just after sunset, when the 133gnats sang in their mournful choirs12, I made my bed. I was soon deep snuggled in my waterproof13 sleeping-sack—my dear old friend—night sharer of so many vicissitudes14 and slumbers15. A wisp of crêpe de chine about my head, I feared not the meanest of all foes16, the mosquitoes that range two to each hair on the hand. I know what happened as the darkness deepened: the birds slunk to sleep in the bushes, all save the night-jars and the owls17 that gurgled and hooted18 among the pines and maples19. The dark moths20 flitted to and fro in the first breathless darkness of the summer night, the large red ants carried off on their backs the dead gnats11 that had perished at my hands at supper-time. Then the pale full moon arose out of a depth of soft white cloud—passionless, perfect. Still the owls hooted as I fell asleep. The night passed. Morning came and I arose gaily21. Nought22 of what the hillman suggested had come to pass; only once I had started, and that at the touch of the wet snout of an inquisitive23 hedgehog. I remember now how piggy scuttled24 off. But two minutes after that I was sleeping again. There had been one other event of the night. About two hours before dawn the rain came softly down. A broad cloud had gently breasted this little mountain upon which I was encamped. It rained steadily25 and much. I curled myself more completely within my sack and let it rain. In the little moments when I did not sleep I heard the drops falling on the cover above me. Had any wild 134robber come upon this strange bundle under the bush his woodlore must have told him it was no beast or bird ever seen upon the hills or under the sky. I think he would have crossed himself and passed by.
So passed my first night of my tramp in the mountains, quite a unique night, soft, strange, wonderful. I felt I had begun a new life. I had entered into a new world and come into communion with Nature in a way as yet unknown.
The rain had stopped as the first light came up into the sky. I arose gaily, pleasantly cool and fit after the sleep and the rain. By the faint light I saw the valley below me, and the grand grey rocks on the other side. I looked up to the summit of my own mountain, and as I munched26 a remainder of dry bread felt all the unspeakable delight of an awakening27 with the birds after having spent the night with the mountains. But, indeed, I had awakened28 before the birds, and as yet the mountains slept, the long grey line of bearded warriors29, calm, majestic30, unmoved, invincible31. Nature in reverence32 lay hushed beneath them, waiting for a signal. I passed carefully over the wet grasses—softly, secretly, as if everywhere children slept.
Clamber, clamber, clamber, up then to the highest point. At last I stood there with the dew on my heels. All the east lay before me, and such a horizon as one can only see when looking from the northern spurs of the Caucasus. The sun had not risen, and from north 135to south lay an illimitable length of deep blood red, blood without life, red without light—dead, fearful, unfathomable red. I stood as one convicted, as a too-daring one, awe-stricken. From the place where I had slept I had not dreamed of this; no tinge33 on the morning twilight34 had suggested what the obstacle of the peak withheld35. I felt pale and grey as a morning mist, insubstantial as a shadow. The grasses trembled wet at my feet. Behind me the austere36 mountains sat unmoved, deep in undisturbed sleep or contemplation. No bird sang, no beast moved, not even the wet trees dripped. All waited for a signal, and I waited. Death was passed—life not come. I was at the gates of the day, but had come early....
I was looking westward37 when the world awoke, looking at the grey mountains. Suddenly it was as if they blushed. Crimson38 appeared in a valley and ran and spread along the cliffs and rocks and over chasms39, suffusing40 the whole westward scene. It was the world blushing as the first kiss of the sun awakened it to a new day. And as I turned, there in the west was the hero, raising himself unaided victoriously41 upward. It was the sun, the hot, glorious one, uprising, glistening42, burning out of a sea of scarlet43, changing the blood into ruby44 and firing every raindrop to a diamond. Most glorious it was, seen, as it were, by one alone, and that one myself, upon a peak adding my few feet to its five thousand and taking also that crimson reflection, that rosette or 136favour accorded those presented at the opening of the day. At how many town pageants45 had one been a mocker, but here was ritual that stood majestic, imperious in its meaning—only to be revered46.
The ceremony was at length over. The day was opened, the freedom of the world had been given, one had but to step down into the gardens laid open to man.
Down the hill and over a moor47 the way led to the little red-roofed village called Dalin-Dalin. Ten steep downhill miles they were, and every mile waved invitingly48. Onward49 then downward, and with steady steps, for the rain has left everything slippery. Wet it is, wet, and the grasses and fern and scrub are up to the waist, but the sun will dry both these and me, and by noon we shall all be hot and thirsty. Through a long wood the path goes. Last week, when I was in the woods, the ground was golden with cowslips, but the fairies’ pensioners50 are now all gone. Only the tall tiger lilies look down like modest maidens51, and brown-green-fingered ferns hold out little monkey hands. Wet, wet—in the boots the water squirts and squeezes. A hare pauses in front and then bounces off—the long-legged, easy runner. So steep and wet is the path that it is difficult to keep one’s footing, and one has to hold on to the branches to keep balance. Mile after mile the distance gets accomplished52, and the wood is passed. Beyond the wood is a valley of nettles53, immense docks, 137waste comfrey, canterbury bells and entwined convolvulus, such a bed of rank vegetable as only the black virgin54 earth, the mountain mist and hot noonday sun can bring forth55. Through that! There is even country ahead and less chance of snakes. Yonder the wild rose blooms and the eglantine and snowy guelder rose. The sun is getting hotter, and half-dazed flies wake to a morrow they had not expected; they buzz stupidly at one’s nose and ears—they have some stale news to impart. It is morning again, they say.
Here is Dalin-Dalin. Just outside the village a dead horse lies on the moor, and the flies fluster56 about it. Was it killed in some night affray with robbers, I wonder?
The mountains lie peacefully in the sunshine. The birds sing; myriadfold humming and stirring and chirping57 is in the grass. The rose bushes are daintily apparelled, and tall spurge lifts its yellow face to look at the beauties around. Sleeping in the copse, even in more abundance than yesterday, are next month’s flowers: time and the sun are softly wooing them. A few mallow and lily and rose will have faded away and given place to new revellers, new festivities. The morning sun, warmer every moment, promises for to-morrow, to-morrow week, to-morrow month, the blooming of the poppy and the ripening58 of the vine.
点击收听单词发音
1 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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2 loquacious | |
adj.多嘴的,饶舌的 | |
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3 despoiled | |
v.掠夺,抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 grassy | |
adj.盖满草的;长满草的 | |
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5 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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6 riveted | |
铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 ); 把…固定住; 吸引; 引起某人的注意 | |
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7 dart | |
v.猛冲,投掷;n.飞镖,猛冲 | |
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8 judicious | |
adj.明智的,明断的,能作出明智决定的 | |
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9 wrangles | |
n.(尤指长时间的)激烈争吵,口角,吵嘴( wrangle的名词复数 )v.争吵,争论,口角( wrangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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10 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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11 gnats | |
n.叮人小虫( gnat的名词复数 ) | |
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12 choirs | |
n.教堂的唱诗班( choir的名词复数 );唱诗队;公开表演的合唱团;(教堂)唱经楼 | |
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13 waterproof | |
n.防水材料;adj.防水的;v.使...能防水 | |
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14 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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15 slumbers | |
睡眠,安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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16 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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17 owls | |
n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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18 hooted | |
(使)作汽笛声响,作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19 maples | |
槭树,枫树( maple的名词复数 ); 槭木 | |
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20 moths | |
n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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21 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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22 nought | |
n./adj.无,零 | |
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23 inquisitive | |
adj.求知欲强的,好奇的,好寻根究底的 | |
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24 scuttled | |
v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 );快跑,急走 | |
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25 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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26 munched | |
v.用力咀嚼(某物),大嚼( munch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
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28 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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29 warriors | |
武士,勇士,战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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30 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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31 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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32 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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33 tinge | |
vt.(较淡)着色于,染色;使带有…气息;n.淡淡色彩,些微的气息 | |
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34 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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35 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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36 austere | |
adj.艰苦的;朴素的,朴实无华的;严峻的 | |
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37 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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38 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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39 chasms | |
裂缝( chasm的名词复数 ); 裂口; 分歧; 差别 | |
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40 suffusing | |
v.(指颜色、水气等)弥漫于,布满( suffuse的现在分词 ) | |
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41 victoriously | |
adv.获胜地,胜利地 | |
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42 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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43 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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44 ruby | |
n.红宝石,红宝石色 | |
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45 pageants | |
n.盛装的游行( pageant的名词复数 );穿古代服装的游行;再现历史场景的娱乐活动;盛会 | |
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46 revered | |
v.崇敬,尊崇,敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47 moor | |
n.荒野,沼泽;vt.(使)停泊;vi.停泊 | |
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48 invitingly | |
adv. 动人地 | |
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49 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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50 pensioners | |
n.领取退休、养老金或抚恤金的人( pensioner的名词复数 ) | |
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51 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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52 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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53 nettles | |
n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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54 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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55 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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56 fluster | |
adj.慌乱,狼狈,混乱,激动 | |
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57 chirping | |
鸟叫,虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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58 ripening | |
v.成熟,使熟( ripen的现在分词 );熟化;熟成 | |
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