Cursed all the gold-fields ever found down South,
Lived with mosquitoes down by Bummer’s Creek—
To say the least, I’d felt down in the mouth.
I’d got quite thin on nuts and grins and smiles,
That Eldorado where men yawned and seemed to make their piles!
EVEN the wind, my boon8 companion—for are we not both born roamers?—seems to blow chunks9 of old memories through the moonlit, tossing pines that are sighing to-night outside this wayside inn. It’s here that we rest awhile, my fiddle and I, as I take up my pen to record some of the incidents from my early travels. Time, in its everlasting10 hurry, gives me the briefest space to say all I wish to say; and ere the month ends I shall be, once more, outbound on the western ocean.
Personally, I think that to have inherited a pair of rose-coloured spectacles from one’s ancestors is to have 24been endowed at birth with inexhaustible wealth, as well as being born a king in one’s own right. Such an inheritance enables one to conjure11 up the finest illusions, helps one to surmount12 apparently13 impossible heights, and also cheers one in each inevitable14 precipitous fall. I’ve often blessed the fates in the thought that they so kindly15 enabled me to warm my hands and heart by an imaginary fire when the winds were blowing cold. So much would I say, in complete humbleness17, about my special gift. Possibly the aforesaid gift is the only inherited privilege that entitles me to write this book dealing18 with my life and travels in the South Seas. So far as the world’s and my own opinion goes, I’ve no violent claim to write more than three books. For, true enough, it does not make for notoriety and a keen interest in one’s self from a wide public to have done the things that I’ve done. I seriously doubt if my effigy19 will be seen in Madame Tussaud’s waxwork20 show when I come to die. The plain fact is, that it is not considered highly respectable to have slept in a wharf21-dustbin in a strange land, unashamed, and with the lid on! And to have knelt in the complete obeisance22 of idolatry before a wooden idol23 with a tattooed24 heathen poet, and deliberately25 worshipped at the old shrine27 of the stars, is, to say the least, not quite the thing. Neither does a wandering vagabond life, and a deep feeling of kinship with strange old shellbacks, ragged29 derelicts, and tattooed chiefs, lay a suitable foundation for recording30 one’s omissions32 and sins in polite form. However that may be, I believe that to have dined deeply on salt-horse and weevily hard-tack, and to have played the fiddle on the “Wallaby track” from Maoriland to the Solomon Isles, is to have gathered an outfit33 of dire34 accomplishments35 that I hope may have inspired me with something to say.
First of all, I will say that, though I had been smashing 25about the seaports36 from Shanghai to Callao, and had trekked37 across the Never-Never land, generally bound for Nowhere, I still had strange hopes that wild pioneer life and romance, as I had read about it ere I ran away to sea, existed somewhere in the world. I was down in the dumps, stranded38 in Sydney, when the great opportunity presented itself. By the wharf, in the harbour, lay a three-masted ship. When I went aboard I heard that she was bound for the South Sea Islands—the Isles of the Blest!
“Any chance of a job?” I said to the chief mate. He solemnly shook his head, then critically scanned me, then pointing towards the cuddy aft, referred me to the skipper. Entering the gloom of the cuddy’s small alley-way, I bumped up against the “Old Man.”
“Any chance of a job, sir?” I murmured in my very best longing39-for-work voice. The skipper stood stroking his whiskers, and, after scrutinizing40 me from head to feet, demanded to see my discharges.
“Git yer traps and come aboard.”
I was engaged as a member of the crew.
Next day we were towed down the harbour by a tug42, and by midnight had a steady wind on the quarter, which took us out with all sails set into the Pacific.
It was a monotonous43, long voyage. The “Saga,” for that was the name of the ship, wasn’t a “Cutty Sark” or a “Thermopylae” for speed.[1] Anyway, the length of the voyage helped to warm my ardent44 longing to arrive at the palmy coral isles.
1. The “Cutty Sark” and “Thermopylae” were two of the fastest sailing ships running from London to Sydney. The author sailed before the mast from Sydney to San Francisco on the “Cutty Sark.”
I think I was the happiest member of the crew when, after much buffeting45 with wild weather and stinking46 pork and maggoty hard-tack, our old wind-jammer 26hugged the outer reefs of the Samoan Isles. Ah, the music of the long-drawn sounds of the surges beating over the barrier reefs! I half fancied I could hear the palms sighing lyrical melodies as the winds crept like overflowing48 zephyrs49 from some great scented50 dream across that pagan world. On the dim blue horizon rose ranges of mountains, apparently touching51 the tropic sky: they were, to me, the peaks of romance!
The dry tongues of the aged41, seasoned sailors hung out as they rubbed their tarry hands and sniffed52 the distant grog-saloon. Old M’Dougal, the ship’s carpenter, danced a jig53 and looked human for the first time. The Dutch boatswain pulled his red beard, gave a terrific grin in the moonlight, and muttered something about “Voomen and vine.” Then I got my few belongings54 together, packed my violin carefully, and was ready to go ashore55.
It was quite dark when I found myself being rowed, or rather paddled, ashore in an outrigger canoe. As I went gliding56 by the moon-ridden lagoons57, I felt that at last I had surely entered some magical harbour of a fairy-land.
Even when sunrise came like a silent crash of liquid gold over the wide Pacific, touching the mountain peaks and the scattered59 bee-hive-shaped huts of the forest townships, I was not disillusioned. All seemed as I had so fondly anticipated; it was as I had read about it all. Men yarned60 and argued dogmatically as they stood, fierce-eyed, before the bar of the wooden grog-shanty; there they stood, attired61 in large slouched hats, telling such mighty62 things about their thrilling travels that even old Homer, could he have heard, might well have sighed with envy!
When dusk came and I heard the tribal63 drums beating the stars in far away up in the forest villages, I 27thought, “Here at least I shall find rest from the hot-footed turbulency of civilized64 humanity; here I can dwell beneath the Eden-like shades of feathery palms, and listen to the wind-blown melodies as they come in from the sea and run across the island trees.” I revelled65 in such like thoughts. I felt that I had come across a pagan world where no more should I hear servile mumblings of a conventional people. I would peer into savage66 bright eyes and listen to the poetic67 lore68 of people who worshipped at the shrine of the stars and counted their days by the fading moons. But when the fierce-eyed, tattooed chief, leaning on his war-club before the rough customers of the grog-shanty’s bar, looked straight into the eyes of an old shellback, and, bringing his club down with a crash, said, with much vehemence69, that he preferred Solomon’s Songs to the second chapter of the Corinthians, I rubbed my eyes and thought I dreamed! My chagrin70 was immense; those delectable71 palm-clad isles of primitive72 lore and romance had come under the blighting73 influence of civilization and of missionaries74!
I was in Apia, Samoa, R. L. S., attired in his velvet75 coat, walked into the bar-room and then suddenly said, “Damn!” when the Beachcomber trod on his toe, bowed, and said, “Beg pawden, soir!” I strolled afar and discovered that bright-eyed babies, nestling at the bosoms76 of their shaggy-haired, handsome mothers, slept as “safe as houses” in doorless, small-thatched dens78 under the moonlit palms. And, wandering on, I saw star-eyed, nymph-like girls with tossing, coral-dyed hair, pass and repass me on the lonely forest track, singing merrily in a musical tongue as they dived once more into the shadows of the coco-palms.[2] All this was extremely pleasing. 28But one may imagine how my tenacious79 illusions were grossly shattered when the majestic80 ex-king Malaetoa of the proud O Le Solu Dynasty, last of his ancient line, followed me into the isolated81 grog-shanty hard by, gazed into my eyes with fondest affection, and said, “Mine’s a bitter!”
2. The Samoans are not tawny82 or mahogany-coloured, but are of a pleasing, golden-skinned hue83, sometimes fairer than Europeans.
O, illusive Romance!
Nevertheless adventure abounded84. Those semi-savage men sang weird85 soulful songs, melodious86 ballads87, about half-forgotten legends, and battles long ago; and their love-songs were as pleasing as the beauty and innocence88 of their womenkind. I roamed those palm-clad shores for days, and was considerably89 enlightened in an educational way, for I came across clans90 of strange old heathens, who seemed to me to be the disciples91 of the one true transcendent democracy. They were semi-naked heathen philosophers, old men clad in loin-cloths only. My pleasure was immense when I observed them sitting by their coral cave doors, solemnly chewing nuts, apparently as happy as the sunny, livelong day. It was sunset, and when they all commenced to beat their drums violently, beating the stars in, it seemed that their hoarse92, quaintly93 musical voices, wailed94 out, “Behold95! we are the people! Creation hath nobly toiled96 through the ages till, lo! the blessed sun warms our aged bones as nature casts into our trembling hands digestible nuts and sweet-scented taro97!”
Many of those old-time natives were endowed with wonderful poetic intellect. And I vow99 that such an intellect my old Samoan friend, O Le Tao, possessed100. I came across Tao about three weeks after arriving in Upolu. And I may say, that though I’ve played the fiddle under a palm tree outside a barbarian101 queen’s 29royal seraglio, and have been given the Freedom of the pagan city in consequence, I can recall no one who was more hospitable102 to me than O Le Tao. And so, before proceeding103 with the wild life and adventures which I experienced after leaving Samoa for Tahiti, I would like just to touch on O Le Tao’s character and genius by the way. In fact, O Le Tao was interesting, if only on account of his physiognomy, which strangely resembled the weird scenery of Samoa by moonlight—scenery that I feel is an eminently104 suitable background for introducing him, and not in an impressionistic sketch105 either, but just as I knew him in his meditative106 old age.
First, I would tell you that it was a lovely sight to see the tropical orange flush of evening fade to a deep, fairy-like green on the sea’s horizon beyond the scimitar-shaped bay off Apia. Then, one by one, the stars peeped out, not down from the sky, but wistful-like up from the lagoons along the shore. It was an Olympian scene and one that I should imagine would inspire the most unimaginative observer. The native villages were silent; the mountains, like mighty sentinels staring out to sea, stood with tangled107 forest beards, sighing down to their rugged108 knees. Moonlit lines of palms waved like majestic plumes109 against the crystalline skies; a falling star seemed a pale ember blown out of the far-off constellations110. But for the tiny pagan city of huts, nestling as it were in the crevice111 of the mountain’s hip26, it might have been an uninhabited island world. Far down in the lower regions, in the vicinity of the mountain’s vast feet, a canoe was paddled out from the hairy growths between those mighty toes. It was a savage, wrinkled old man of another age, paddling off for the silent waters in a canoe, that was, to him, a small argosy bearing him away to the wonders of shadowland! But it wasn’t as weird as all that; it was simply the Samoan chief, 30O Le Tao, stealing away under the cover of night to one of the neighbouring islets, so that he might worship his hidden idol. Though I cannot claim to have been there on that special night, I well know it was none other than O Le Tao. And how I know this is my own secret. Possibly I’ve been a heathen too, and have prostrated112 myself before an idol; I’m queer enough for anything. However that may be, I recall that I met O Le Tao next day. I was travelling along in the vicinity of Mount Vala. I had just had an appetizing meal of Bass’s Ale and monkey-nuts—and was feeling in good humour. Coco-palms, breadfruits, and other picturesque113 trees sheltered me from the hot sunlight and my banana-leaf socks hardly swished as I softly trod the beautifully woven carpet of flower and fern that Nature’s patient hand had spread across the forest floor. The sea breeze swept pungent114 whiffs, like iced wine, to my nostrils115, as I followed the track made by soft-footed savages116 for ages. Suddenly I was startled by seeing a frizzly, partially117 bald head protrude118 through the bamboos. It was O Le Tao’s cranium.
“What you wanter here?” he said.
“Talofa! e maloto ea oe” (I greet you, comrade, and hope you are well), I responded, as the chief’s brow puckered119 up with suspicion.
“What you gotter there—moosic?”
“Yes,” I responded, as he eyed my violin.
“You no tafoa vale?”
“No; I’m a friend,” I replied, as I handed him a mark. This largesse120 changed his aggressive look into a broad smile of welcome. Following him, I entered his hut. I sat on his best mat and drank refreshing121 coco-nut milk. Suddenly we were disturbed by hearing loud grunts122, heavy breathing, and smashing of twigs123. In another moment an aged Samoan woman entered the hut. 31She was a fine-looking old woman, and had kind eyes. She was carrying a huge calabash of water beneath one arm. Its cumbersome124 weight did not deter125 her from further efforts—in the other hand she held a coco-nut, a basketful of fish—all alive O!—on her back a bunch of bananas, and between her teeth two fishing rods. She was O Le Tao’s industrious126 better half. She too made me welcome. Then pretty Cenerita, their daughter, arrived. She had pretty hair, and eyes that outshone the gleams of the three coco-nut-oil lamps, hanging from the hut’s low roof that night; for it all ended in O Le Tao asking me to stay the night with them.
When the hour was late, I felt very contented127 as I squatted128 by their homestead’s door by Cenerita’s side. Then the old chief commenced to tell me about the grand old freebooting times.
O Le Tao was over seventy years of age, and so was a reliable authority on the old sins and wonders of the heathen period of his palmy isles.
As the old chief spoke129 on, and his wife, Cenerita, and I sat by the doorway130 that faced the ocean, I too became transformed into a semi-heathen, the Samoan underworld becoming some dim, far-off reality to my brain. The moon shone over the dark waters, and the voices coming from the dark shore caves just below seemed to drum out muffled131 echoes from the old gods of shadowland, as I listened to all that O Le Tao told.
Cenerita had ceased to sing. We could faintly hear the o le sanga (red-winged nightingale) whistling its melodious song somewhere up in the mountain breadfruits. And still O Le Tao spoke on in this wise:
“O Papalagi, you must know and believe that, in those far-off days, the great spirits of shadowland did walk about the native villages by night. Often would the gods knock at the doors of the great Atuiis (high 32chiefs), bidding them strive for their mighty requirements; which were many. And sad enough for us in the great sacrificial month!” said O Le Tao after a pause; then he continued: “O white man, I must tell you that Lao-mio was my kinsman132’s child and was a maid beautiful to gaze upon.”
“Doubtless,” I said, as he continued.
“And of course she was daughter of great chief, so to fall in love with a low-caste youth, as she did, was a terrible disgrace to me and my people. Also the gods, Tangaloa, Tuli, Tane, and the goddesses of O E Langi (Elysium) were dark-browed with anger about it all. ’Tis true that the low-caste youth was handsome to look upon, straight as a coco-palm, with eyes like a katafa bird’s. But such things do not make up for the lack of great blood and the pride of the gods in one’s heart.”
“No, certainly not,” said I, as O Le Tao’s wrinkled physiognomy revealed the pride he felt over those old ancestors that he claimed. Then he continued:
“One night, when we were all fast asleep in our village by Tewaka, we did all leap suddenly up from our sleeping mats, for lo! the conch-shells of the gods in shadowland were blowing! True enough the gods and goddesses were rushing about the forests in great anger! We did know that something terrible had occurred, for their voices sounded like to thunder and echoed to the mountain tops. As all my people did rush from their huts, the gods disappeared in the moonlight, but we were all just in time to see a canoe being fast paddled across the bay out to sea! Ah, Papalagi, ’twas great insult; for it was that low-caste youth Ko-Ko, for that was his name, and Lao-mio, the high-caste maid, in flight together. For a moment we gazed dumb-struck, the horror of the scene before us being 33on the faces of all the chiefs. And the O tausalas (high-class girls and women) weep to see so wicked a sight.”
Saying the foregoing, O Le Tao placed his wrinkled hand to his brow and gazed in deep reflection on the scene that was apparently before his memory. Then, as his old wife handed him a goblet134 of kava (he swallowed it at a gulp), he cast his eyes skyward and continued:
“Suddenly we all recover our senses, and go rushing down to the shore. But it was too late. The cunning Ko-Ko had severed135 the sennet tackles and had cast all our canoes adrift, so that we could not follow him. He was very low-caste too, for, as the canoe turned round by the promontory136, he did turn his face to us and waved his paddle jeeringly137! And though my kinsmen138 and many of the tausalas did dance with much rage on the shore at this act of Ko-Ko’s, I did myself keep calm, as great chief should keep; crossing my arms on my breast, I did spit seaward. It was then that we all turned, and rushing way back to the village we looked into the hut wherein Lao-mio had slept. Lo, master, we found all her clothes—she had left them behind! ’Twas sad enough, this act of an erstwhile modest tausala maid, but we did all beat our chests when we find the maid had left a note behind her too, and this note said: ‘O stink47 chiefs of Samoa, I go away with my true love Ko-Ko, for his eyes are like unto the gods! And I would have you know, O meddling139 people of the village, that my children shall bless me for having so god-like a husband!’
“At reading this insult about the godliness of a low-caste, we did all beat our limbs and bodies till the blood fell. And as we did this act we heard the mighty, far-off voices of the gods cursing our village, to think that a high-caste tausala should elope with a cheeky 34low-caste like Ko-Ko. The next day the great toas (high chiefs) went away in sorrow to the sacred altars at Manono, and, paying obeisance to the autiis (priests), asked them to find out what the gods would have them do about the whole matter. After many libations of ceremonial kava and sacred offerings to the God of gods, the vassals140 of shadowland did say: ‘You disgraced people of Manono must away go into the forest by Lauii; and when you are there you must play sweetest music on the vuvu and the magic conch-shells while the moon shines over the sea. It is then that the spirits will hear, and will tell you what is best to be done to enable you to catch the wicked lovers.’”
Saying this, O Le Tao paused a moment, then, swelling141 his tattooed chest to its full proportions, and with his arms crossed high thereon, he gazed majestic-wise upon Cenerita, his wife, and my humble16 self. Then, turning his head and face round in the direction of the mountains, he gazed in such a manner that it was plainly evident he was about to divulge143 something reflecting no small amount of glory upon his person. He continued:
“When the village did hear that which the gods wished to be done, they all meet by the sacred banyans, and say, ‘Who? Who in our village am great enough to respond to the wishes of the gods?’ And, Papalagi, I would have you know that, whilst this talk go on, I sit in full humbleness behind the assembled tribe in deep shadow of breadfruit trees.” (I nodded my head, intimating that I quite understood O Le Tao’s humility144.) Then he coughed, and proceeded: “For awhile I keep my face bowed towards the earth; but still they call in one great voice again, and yet again! And so, knowing well that one cannot cast the power, the glory, and majesty145 from one’s own person, I slowly did arise, and, 35standing forth147 into the clear light of the moon’s fullness, I say, ‘Who is this that calls aloud for O Le Tao?’
“And, in this wise, was I chosen above all others, O Papalagi!
“That same night I and Lao-mio’s father, who was a kinsman of mine, did go away to seek the magic caves where dwelt the vassals of the gods of the underworld. When we arrived by the seashore we perceive four young coco-palms growing, that had not been there before. And, as we blew the conch-shells, the four coco-palms did commence to quiver in the light of the moon, the plumes and bunches of nuts that sprouted148 at the tops starting to swell142 visibly. Still we did blow and blow the vuvu and conch-shell; and still the coco-nuts swell and swell till they gleam in the moonlight, and lo! they were the big faces of the gods! We did then notice that the trunks of the palms were their legs. My kinsman and I did lean one against the other, so great was our surprise to hear their voices. For, lifting their shivering arms to the sky, they say, ‘O great O Le Tao, and he too who am shadowed in your presence.’”
“That am so, Papalagi,” said Tao, as I struck a match on my knee and intimated by a nod of my head that I wished him to proceed. Then he continued in this wise: “The gods looked down upon us and said, ‘If you would once more get Lao-mio the maid back to your village, you must go along the coast and approach the caves wherein dwells the beautiful goddess Pafuto. She will stand in your presence, and then lead you across the sea to Savaii Isle7 so that you may get at the maid Lao-mio.’
“At saying these things they did look upon myself 36and my kinsman with deep concern shining like a shadow on moonlit waters in their eyes, and then, again said: ‘You are mortals, and so we would tell you that, whatever you do, you must not gaze upon the goddess Pafuto’s face or form with amorous150 eyes, neither may you let your hearts hold such thoughts as one may have when gazing upon a beauteous mortal maid.’
“Well, Papalagi, this wish of the gods did not trouble us; but pulling my tappa robe around me I did at once commence to go with my kinsman to the spot where we might see the great goddess. When we did at length come to the sea, the moonlight lay fast asleep on the deep waters. The o le manu ao (Samoan nightingale), hearing our approach, started singing its midnight song to its favourite goddess Langi (heaven). We listened until our hearts were charmed very much, so much so that we both felt that our hearts were fit to urge our voices to speak out those things which the gods had told. And so I stepped forward, and say, ‘O le sanga oa e magi langi.’ At hearing me speak, the o le manu at once cease its song. Silence did fall and run on silvery moonlight feet across the forest. Then, lo, a shadow fell slantwise across the lagoon58 that faced the sleeping ocean. We turn our eyes, and there, stepping forth from her big shore cave, was the goddess Pafuto!
“Ah, Papalagi, never before did my eyes behold so beautiful a goddess. Her raiment was made from the finest wove seaweed. Her hair tresses, falling like a golden river on the sunset mountains, made a wonderful mat for her nicest of feet.”
At this moment the old chief’s story was interrupted by the arrival of Cenerita’s fiancé, a handsome youth named Tamariki. As the youth sat at Cenerita’s feet, O Le Tao gave him a freezing look that he should intrude151 at such a moment. Then the old man placed his 37hand archwise over his eyes in some memory of the dazzling beauty of the goddess Pafuto, and continued: “The goddess gaze on us with magical light stealing through her eyes, then she plucked a reed from the lagoon’s edge and blew out a note of sweetest music. At once the o le manu ao commenced to sing again, and out of the cavern152 to the right of us came floating a taumualua (native boat). My kinsman and I at once did that which the goddess commanded, for we at once jump into the taumualua. As we sat in the magic canoe, she did softly step into it and give a magic sign. It was with much sorrow that I did notice that the taumualua carry no paddles, for, Papalagi, I feel that the goddess may be for voyaging beneath the sea instead of moving over the waters. But just as I did look into my kinsman’s eyes in sorrow, the goddess did stand upright between us. She was as tall as a mast and as straight. Uplifting her robes and stretching her curved arms out like unto sails of a ship, the night wind did at once commence to softly blow. It was a wonderful sight to see her robes gently fill out like big sails to the blowing airs as the magical canoe start to move silently across the moonlit waters.
“As we did glide153 over the sea we could distinctly see her shadow reflected in the water beside us, beside the imaged moon that was full of brightness. Ah, Papalagi, it was this uprightness of the goddess that did bring about the fall of my kinsman. Alas133, as she became like to sails of a taumualua, because of the uplifting of her robes there beside us, her graceful154 limbs were revealed to half a finger’s length above the knees. Truly, Papalagi, it was a sight to tempt155 even the gods, let alone us poor mortals as we sat there, one each side of that wondrous156 figure, my cheek almost touching the right flank, and my kinsman’s the left knee.
38“Knowing deep in our hearts what the gods had warned us about, we tried, more than I may tell, not to behold or dream of her gracefulness157 and the secret glory of such womanly loveliness, as we could have done had she been a mortal.
“So, Papalagi, I did perspire158 overmuch through trying to kill those thoughts that will afflict159 us poor mortals. I sighed and prayed, and even sang a short lotu-song (hymn) to help stifle160 those thoughts that dare not rise from my heart. It was during this misery161 of mine in endeavouring to keep faith with the gods and our promises that I did notice my kinsman breathing heavily. I look long upon him, and then see that he was near to being fauti (in a fit) for trying also to stay his deeper thoughts. Much fright came to my soul at seeing the state of one whom I loved much and who was near to me in blood. I did look eagerly across the sea, and with much sorrow notice that we were still more than a mile from the lonely shores of Savaii Isle. The promontory was just visible far away to the north.
“‘What shall we do? What shall we do?’ I mutter as I did see my kinsman’s form writhe162 in the agony of his desires.
“At this moment the goddess slightly swerved163 her outstretched arms around to the north-east so that she might catch the fairer wind. In this sudden action of hers, her mass of beautiful hair fell about our shoulders, for she had slowly moved her head likewise, so that her face should be turned to the south-west; so that, while her left arm point north-east, her face turn south-west. Whether it was this movement of the changing winds that made her tresses fall and prove my kinsman’s undoing164, I know not. But it is certain that, as her masses of hair fell tenderwise on his face and shoulders, her eyes, inclined sideways, gazed on him and 39on me in such a way as surely goddess never gazed to tempt mortals before. And then, alas, whether the knees moved through the soft swaying of the canoe or through the sudden veering165 of the night wind, I know not, but my kinsman’s lips did suddenly touch the left knee of the goddess!
“In a moment, as though lightning swept across the moonlit waters, a flash of light leapt from the goddess’s eyes—the canoe wherein we sat vanished—was as nothing!
“For longer time I did swim and swim. And when at length I sat on the shore, only the great goddess Pafuto sat beside me! It was then I knew that my sad kinsman had been unable to control his mortal thoughts, and so was lying somewhere dead at the bottom of the moana uli (the blue sea). Gazing upon me, the goddess said, ‘O Le Tao, thou art a great chief. Thou hast seen mucher beauty of the goddesses of Langi in their true nakedness, and thou hast proven that thou lovest the light of heaven in their eyes only.’
“At hearing this, I felt much pride. Yet, true enough, my heart did quake overmuch, for well I knew how near I was to falling as my kinsman fell.”
The old Samoan chief ceased for a moment. The night winds blew softly, drifting the scents166 of ripe lemons and breaths of decaying flowers to our nostrils. Cenerita, under the influence of her parent’s story, peered into the forest glooms. The grand chiefess, Madame O Le Tao, puffed167 her cigarette and revealed by the erect168 pose of her scraggy neck that she realized the import of her position as O Le Tao’s faithful spouse169. The old chief, continuing his story, said:
“O Papalagi, when the goddess Pafuto said that to me which I have just told you, I feel much proud and thankful for her mercy. I well knew that she know 40in her heart that I too had been near to breaking my promise when the taumualua swayed. But, still, she know what great soul O Le Tao am!—so she say no more. Indeed, it was at this moment that she did bend forward, softly touching me on the shoulder with her lips, and so did make me taboo170 (a sacred personage). When I did get back to the village and told the chiefs all that had happened, they, though much grieved to hear of my kinsman’s death, thought little more of the flight of the lovers, Lao-mio and K-ko-ko. They did at once prepare great festival to celebrate the glory that the goddess Pafuto had sent back such a great one as I to still dwell amongst them.”
When he had made an end, the old chief lifted his shoulders majestically171, surveying me keenly the while with his dim eyes. It was then that I realized how those island chiefs and the ancestors of knights172 and kings of all lands had first gained their power, their possessions, and mighty insignia. I instinctively173 knew that not only in those wild isles were men gifted with an imagination that made them have firm belief in all that they dreamed of over their own greatness. I half envied O Le Tao’s gifts—gifts he had so well utilized174. For as he sat there I saw that he was enthroned on the heights of magnificent imagination and lived in the light of respect from all men’s eyes.
Such was O Le Tao’s story of the goddess Pafuto, as told me while the Samoan night doves moaned musically in the tamanu trees.
During my stay the semi-heathen chief took me to many interesting places, showing me spots in the forests and along the shores where once some great tribal battle had been fought, or some cave wherein, on certain occasions, gods and goddesses met in midnight council. After that, O Le Tao took Cenerita, Tamariki, and myself 41to a night dance in the shore village near Monono. I am assured that Man cannot improve on Nature’s handiwork in building roomy halls for secret congregations of human beings who would indulge in heathenish capers175 that endeavour to express the inherent impulses of mankind. The gnarled pillars and flower-bespangled curtains of that wonderful forest opera-house, decorated by Nature’s artless, silent-moving hands, left nothing to be desired even by the most critical Maestro who might happen to perform on the wide, branch-roofed stage. The moon hanging in the vaulted176 roof of space over the trees, was sufficient for all purposes. The acoustic177 properties were perfect, the neighbouring hills echoing back each orchestral crescendo178 and each encore in obsequious179, weird diminuendos. In the intervals180 of silence it would often seem that I heard some phantom-like accompaniment, and faint encores coming from the gods of shadowland, ere the barbaric orchestra of fifes, bone flutes181, and drums once more recommenced its terrific ensemble182. I was more than astonished to see O Le Tao suddenly throw his stiff legs out as he commenced to dance with an elderly chiefess of enormous girth. A hundred dusky Eyes seemed to tempt a hundred willing Adams as the sarong-like robes swished to tripping feet when the whole audience began to dance before the footlights of the stars! With the characteristic restraint of my race, I clenched183 my fist in a great mental, virtuous184 effort, but only to fail through my miserable185 fallibility, for, opening my closed eyelids186, I stared with unblushing effrontery187 at the prima donna’s exquisitely188 woven concert-robe—the equivalent of the South Sea fig-leaf!
She still danced on, a fascinating being, with the golden light of some witchery in her eyes. Her clustered tresses were distinctly visible by the pale glimmerings 42of the moon that silvered the huge colonnades189 of the stage. And, all the while she danced, she sang an ear-haunting melody, swaying her limbs, a scarlet190 blossom nestling in the hollow of her bosom77. “Aue! Aue! Talofa!” came from the lips of the tiers of gay warriors191 and great high chiefs who squatted in the royal boxes. When the handsome young chief, Tusita Le Salu—the head-dancer’s affianced—stepped down from his perch192 in the breadfruit tree on the stage, the hubbub193 was immense. He at once faced the dancer in a god-like style, and commenced to sing a duet with her. They danced and tumbled about in a marvellous way. And when she lifted the pretty blue sarong robe up to her knees, I distinctly heard the aged O Le Tao groan194 through some pathetic realization195 over his departed youth. Yet the most fastidious could have gazed with delight on that scene: the whole thing was fairy-like, the girl’s dancing creating an atmosphere that was full of poetic mystery and nothing more.
The festival’s orchestra helped in no small way to enhance the poetic beauty of the whole scene. The bamboo flutes and bone-clappers (made from the skeletons of dead chiefs) played a suitable accompaniment to the many “turns” that I witnessed. The special music that was performed on this occasion was something between a Marquesan Tapriata and a Samoan Siva dance. Though I cannot reproduce the moaning of the resounding196 seas on the shore below or the echoes in the mountains, I give here an impressionist piano-forte arrangement of the wild music I heard that night.
It is many years since O Le Tao departed for the legendary197 splendours of his beloved shadowland: that much I certainly know. For, on a voyage bound for the Malay Archipelago, not so long ago, my ship put into Samoa, and, standing146 in the small village cemetery198 43near Safuta, I gazed in sorrow on a little wooden cross, and distinctly made out these words, written in English and Samoan:
O LE TAO
Died, aged 83, in the year of our Lord, 1903.”
Gazing on that grave, I realized the briefness of all living things, be they great or small. There was something pathetic too in so humble a tomb for one who had dwelt in such imaginative splendour. For the island nightingale still sang its passionate201 song in the breadfruit, as the same aged tamanu trees sighed in their glory by the sea. But, doubtless, the children of a new age still whisper his name in wonder, telling how he was favoured by the goddess Pafuto for the majesty and inborn202 virtue203 of his mighty heart.
When I left O Le Tao’s hospitable homestead it was with feelings of regret, and it was a long time before I returned to Samoa. Brief as was my stay with that old chief, it was of long enough duration to influence me; indeed, I might say that I became a semi-pagan too. Cenerita no longer pointed204 in vain to the moonlit mountains, attempting to show my blind eyes the shadow-gods that she declared were stalking across the moon-ridden hills—I too saw them! I became a veritable heathen. My personality became robed in the weird atmosphere of pagan dreams. Civilization fell from me like an immaculate tall hat knocked off one’s head with a brick. The stern, dull, drab colour of the world changed for me. The bright-winged katafa, the brown-robed O Le mao bird, and bronzed-winged Samoan doves became warm-throated goddesses sitting in the breadfruit 44trees over our heads, their eyes bright with discovery as I played heathenish melodies and Cenerita sang. I was happy enough, for I lived in a small native house all alone; it had two rooms and was allotted205 me by the kindness of O Le Tao. That hut was my tiny grand ancestral hall. Just beyond my threshold waved the plumes of my coat-of-arms—a coco-nut tree crowned with a tawny bunch of fruit. My clock, far away over the wide waters of my blue demesne206, chimed each sunset on the wave! Sometimes, when I played my violin far into the night, I saw ghostly shadows moving under my lovely garden trees; then I knew that I had awakened207 the wild people of another world, who came to listen with delight to the Tusitala of the “magic-stick” from the lands beyond the setting suns. Sometimes I would invite Tamariki, Cenerita, and a few more sweet-minded Samoan children to spend the evening with me. They would sing part-songs, melodies of which none knew the composer, wonderful strains that had been mysteriously blown into some old Samoan musician’s soul from the moonlit ocean caves. Crude as some of those songs were, I heard the true note. Metaphorically209 speaking, I threw all my music studies away. Away with such rubbish! No western music ever thrilled me as I was thrilled by the haunting poetry of wild sweet sounds such as I heard on those Samoan nights. It often seemed unbelievable, dream-like, when I sat on a fibre mat before the limelight of the stars and whiffed the odours of wild flowers and listened to the perfect strains of that great University of Samoan elemental musical art. Often when I heard the final chant of some musical genius I would arise and cheer loudly, as the rough, tattooed audience beat their drums and whistled their encores. Sometimes a sun-varnished maid would stand before the forest audience and sing some masterpiece 46that expressed all the impassioned melody of music’s far-away, forgotten childhood. I would hear the seawinds sigh their long-drawn accompaniment across the lovely wild-stringed harp210 of forest trees; a cloud would pass away from the moon and so lift a great silver curtain of ghostly light from the leafy, gnarled colonnades. And then the dusky, star-eyed prima donna of the forest would bow with a grace that was seemingly quite out of place as one listened to the wild hubbub of the fierce-eyed, tawny men who waved their arms as they cheered from the orchestral stalls of jungle, bush, and fern. Such sights, such experiences might well turn the brain of a much more sober head than I claim to possess.
I’d sooner be a pagan in this hut,
Wherein the singing spheres creep thro’ my door,
And dance and dance upon my bedroom floor,
As ’tween the sheets I watch with eyes unshut,
I’m wrapt in some fine madness of a sense
That robes me with the magic of those things
That lend imagination lyric-wings,
Imparadising all my dreams intense.
’Twill fade away, I know, and once again
Alas! I’ve worshipped stricken things called “Men”;
Hid magic splendours of the glorious night
The sad old trees are whispering on the wind
The harmonies that maestros seek to find!
Last night those old trees said: “Oh, brother, stay!
That song you played just now we seem to know,
We heard it sung a million years ago!”
47I said “It’s mine!” They sighed. I passed away;
And even the flowers along the lonely track
Said: “Poor, brief thing with feet and weary back.”
’Twas then the River, old and full of tears,
Stopped by the hills and called, inquired of me—
“Comrade, is this the right way to the sea?”
As on we tramped; then, at the close of day,
It said “Good-bye, old friend,” and crept away.
And now?—a beauteous melody I hear,
As constellations tumbling from the skies,
Are dancing on the floor before my eyes;
Nor do I dream at all, for, sitting near,
That Man’s ambitious mind strives for—in vain!
I could cry out in spite to think for years
I’ve sought applause, played to sad men and kings,
To find, at last, the universe, of all things,
In perfect time across my bedroom floor!
And still they dance and dance, and still the trees
Sits on my bed-rail sweeping from its bow
The music of the grand infinite seas,
Till ’neath the sheets I hide my head for shame
To think, alas, a gnat achieves such fame!
After leaving O Le Tao I came across a kind of South Sea Mozart. He was a young Samoan of about fourteen years. He possessed a cheap German fiddle, and on its frayed221 strings222 extemporized223 melodies of the weirdest224 beauty.
“What’s that song, Pango-Pango?” said I.
He shook his curly head and said, “Me knower not, nice songer camer me out of win’ (wind) of the forest, from moan of sea-cave and stars of big sky-land.”
48Saying that, he once more placed his fiddle (’cello style) between his knees, and performed a melody that might well have haunted the brain of a Brahms, a Schubert, or an Elgar. He was a handsome little fellow, with beautiful bird-like eyes. He was absolutely unconscious of the gift he possessed. He seemed, to me, the sun-varnished, perfect-limbed personification of Music itself, Music’s youth, light-winged, passionate, beautiful with elemental sweetness, the ecstasy225 of melancholy226 and inartistic carelessness. He played to his shadow in the lagoons. There was a fascinating witchery in all his ways. Yet I doubt whether such a soul as Pango’s could ever develop into that stage of music which men call “Classic.” His genius was the genius of youth, and could never grow old, and, rusting227, develop into the austere228 ossification229 of the fashionable musical cranium, that awful unvibrant curvature of the musical spine230 that seems the melody of beauteous youth. Pango was as natural in his art as are the flowers and birds on the hillside. He could never have attained231 that decrepitude232 of imagination that invests itself in a robe of artistries, making sad old men and women imagine they hear the beautiful by having their unresponsive spines233 forcibly shaken by the thunderous crash, the multitudinous rumble234 and groan of artificial musical art. Ah, memory of Pango! Though a true musician, he would have been nowhere as a music-hall composer. Nor could he place suggestive words to music. He lacked British spiciness235, too. But I vow that he did put the stars and forest streams to music as he sat out on the promontory’s edge by moonlight, looking like some young Grecian god as he hummed and played a strain that sounded like infinity236 in pain. To my great regret I lost sight of Pango-Pango for quite a year after that. The fact is, I left Samoa. How I left, and of the wonders of the sea, I will tell in the next chapter.
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1
disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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illusive
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| adj.迷惑人的，错觉的 | |
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fiddled
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| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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12
surmount
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| vt.克服；置于…顶上 | |
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13
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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14
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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15
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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16
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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17
humbleness
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| n.谦卑，谦逊；恭顺 | |
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18
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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19
effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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20
waxwork
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| n.蜡像 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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23
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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24
tattooed
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| v.刺青，文身( tattoo的过去式和过去分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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27
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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28
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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29
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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30
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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31
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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32
omissions
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| n.省略( omission的名词复数 )；删节；遗漏；略去或漏掉的事（或人） | |
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33
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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34
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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36
seaports
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| n.海港( seaport的名词复数 ) | |
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37
trekked
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| v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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38
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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40
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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41
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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42
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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43
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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44
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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45
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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46
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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47
stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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48
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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49
zephyrs
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| n.和风，微风( zephyr的名词复数 ) | |
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50
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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51
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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52
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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53
jig
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| n.快步舞（曲）；v.上下晃动；用夹具辅助加工；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
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54
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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55
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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56
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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57
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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58
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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59
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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60
yarned
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| vi.讲故事（yarn的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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61
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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63
tribal
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| adj.部族的，种族的 | |
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64
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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revelled
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| v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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66
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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67
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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68
lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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69
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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70
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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71
delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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72
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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73
blighting
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| 使凋萎( blight的现在分词 )； 使颓丧； 损害； 妨害 | |
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74
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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75
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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76
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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77
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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78
dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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79
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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80
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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81
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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82
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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83
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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84
abounded
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| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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86
melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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87
ballads
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| 民歌，民谣，特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 )； 讴 | |
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88
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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89
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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90
clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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91
disciples
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| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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92
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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93
quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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94
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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96
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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97
taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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98
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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99
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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100
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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101
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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102
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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103
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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104
eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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105
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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106
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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107
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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108
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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109
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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110
constellations
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| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
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111
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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112
prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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113
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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114
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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115
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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116
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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117
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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118
protrude
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| v.使突出，伸出，突出 | |
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119
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
largesse
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| n.慷慨援助，施舍 | |
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121
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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122
grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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123
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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124
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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125
deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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126
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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127
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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128
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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129
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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130
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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131
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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132
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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133
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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134
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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135
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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136
promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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137
jeeringly
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| adv.嘲弄地 | |
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138
kinsmen
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| n.家属，亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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139
meddling
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| v.干涉，干预（他人事务）( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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140
vassals
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| n.奴仆( vassal的名词复数 )；（封建时代）诸侯；从属者；下属 | |
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141
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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142
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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143
divulge
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| v.泄漏(秘密等)；宣布，公布 | |
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144
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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145
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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146
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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147
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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148
sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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149
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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150
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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151
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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152
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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153
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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154
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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155
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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156
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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157
gracefulness
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158
perspire
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| vi.出汗，流汗 | |
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159
afflict
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| vt.使身体或精神受痛苦，折磨 | |
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160
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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161
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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162
writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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163
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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165
veering
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| n.改变的；犹豫的；顺时针方向转向；特指使船尾转向上风来改变航向v.（尤指交通工具）改变方向或路线( veer的现在分词 )；（指谈话内容、人的行为或观点）突然改变；（指风） （在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向）逐渐转向；风向顺时针转 | |
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166
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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167
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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168
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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169
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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170
taboo
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| n.禁忌，禁止接近，禁止使用；adj.禁忌的；v.禁忌，禁制，禁止 | |
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171
majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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172
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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173
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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174
utilized
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| v.利用，使用( utilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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175
capers
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| n.开玩笑( caper的名词复数 )；刺山柑v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的第三人称单数 ) | |
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176
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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177
acoustic
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| adj.听觉的，声音的；(乐器)原声的 | |
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178
crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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179
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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180
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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181
flutes
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| 长笛( flute的名词复数 )； 细长香槟杯（形似长笛） | |
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182
ensemble
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| n.合奏(唱)组；全套服装；整体，总效果 | |
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183
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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184
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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185
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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186
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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187
effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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188
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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189
colonnades
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| n.石柱廊( colonnade的名词复数 ) | |
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190
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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191
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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192
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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193
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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194
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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195
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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196
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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197
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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198
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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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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inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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demesne
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| n.领域，私有土地 | |
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awakened
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| 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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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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metaphorically
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| adv. 用比喻地 | |
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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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gnat
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| v.对小事斤斤计较，琐事 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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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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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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adagios
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| n.柔板( adagio的名词复数 )；慢板；柔板乐章；（男女二人或三人舞时女角保持高难度平衡的）缓慢动作 | |
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221
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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extemporized
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| v.即兴创作，即席演奏( extemporize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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weirdest
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| 怪诞的( weird的最高级 )； 神秘而可怕的； 超然的； 古怪的 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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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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rusting
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| n.生锈v.（使）生锈( rust的现在分词 ) | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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ossification
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| n.骨化，（思想等的）僵化 | |
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230
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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decrepitude
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| n.衰老；破旧 | |
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spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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234
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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spiciness
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| n.香馥，富于香料；香味 | |
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infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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