Every instant his expectation became more anxious, while around him rose the tumultuous cry that extended to the outer walls of the palace and lost itself among the clouds, now lighted with a glare as of a conflagration3. An almost terrible joy seemed to spread over the Anadyomenean City, as if a vehement4 breath had suddenly dilated5 all breasts, filling the veins6 of all men with a superabundance of life. The repetition of the Bacchic Chorus celebrating the crown of stars, placed by Aphrodite on the forgetful head of Ariadne, had drawn7 a cry from the throng8 on the Molo beneath the open balconies. When, at the final elevation9, the word Viva! rang out from the chorus of M?nads, Satyrs, and Egipans, the chorus of the populace had responded to it like a formidable echo from the harbor of San Marco. And in this moment of Dionysian delirium10 it seemed as if the people remembered the forests of old that were burned on sacred nights, and had given a signal for the conflagration that must light up the beauty of Venice in final, dazzling splendor11.
The dream of Paris Eglano—the spectacle of marvelous flames offered to love on a floating couch—flashed before Stelio's vision. The persistent12 image of Donatella Arvale lingered in his thought: a supple13, youthful figure, strong and shapely, rising erect14 amid the sonorous15 forest of bows, which seemed to draw their notes from the hidden music within herself. And, seized with a strange distress16, through which passed something like the shadow of horror, he saw the image of the other woman: poisoned by art, worn with experience, with the taste of maturity17 and worldly corruptness on those eloquent18 lips, a feverish19 dryness in those hands, which had pressed the juice from deceitful fruits, and with the marks of a thousand masks on the face that had simulated the fury of all mortal passions. To-night, at last, after a long period of waiting and of hope, he was to receive the gift of that heart, no longer young, which had been claimed by others before him, but which he never yet had called his own. How his heart had throbbed20 in the early evening as he sat beside that silent woman, floating toward the City Beautiful over the waters that seemed to bear them on with the terrifying smoothness of mysterious machinery21. Ah, why did she come now to meet him in company with the other temptress? Why did she place beside her despair and worldly wisdom the pure splendor of innocent youth?
He started suddenly as he perceived in the throng at the top of the marble staircase, by the light of the smoking torches, the form of La Foscarina pressed so closely against that of Donatella Arvale that the robes of both blended into one mass of whiteness. He followed them with his eyes until they reached the lowest stair, anxious as if at each step they had approached the edge of an abyss. The unknown during these hours had already led in the heart of the poet a life so intense that on seeing her approach him he experienced the emotion that would have seized him before a breathing incarnation of one of the ideal creatures born of his art.
She descended22 slowly on the human wave. Behind her, the Palace of the Doges, filled with streams of lights and confused sounds, made one think of those fairy-tale awakenings which suddenly, in the depths of the forest, transfigure inaccessible23 castles where for centuries the hair on royal heads had grown longer and longer during a protracted24 sleep. The two guardian25 Giants shone red in the blaze of the torches; the cuspid of the Golden Gate sparkled with tiny lights. And still the clamor rose and swelled26 above the groups of marbles, loud as the moaning of the stormy sea against the walls of Malamocco.
In this tumult2, Effrena saw advancing toward him the two temptresses, escaping from the crowd as if from the clasp of a monster. And his fancy pictured extraordinary assimilations, which should be realized with the ease of dreams and the solemnity of liturgic ceremonies. He said to himself that Perdita was leading this magnificent prey27 to him, that he might discover some rarely beautiful secret, that some great work of love might be accomplished28, in which she desired to be his fellow artisan. He told himself that this very night she would say to him most marvelous words. Across his spirit passed once again the indefinable melancholy29 he had felt when he leaned over the bronze rim30 to contemplate31 the reflection of the stars in that dark mirror; he waited in expectation of some event that should stir that secret soul in the furthermost depths of his being, where it lay motionless, strange, intangible. By the whirling of his thoughts, he comprehended that he was again plunged32 into that delirium which the glamor33 of the lagoon34 had given him at twilight35. Then, emerging from the shadowy corner, he went forward to meet the two women with an intoxicating36 presentiment37.
"Oh, Effrena!" said La Foscarina, as she reached the well, "I had given up all hope of finding you here. We are very late, are we not? But we were caught in the crowd and could not escape."
Then, turning toward her companion with a smile, she said:
"Donatella, this is the Master of the Flame."
Without speaking, but with a slight smile, Donatella Arvale responded to the low bow of the young man.
"We must find our gondola38," said La Foscarina. "It is waiting for us at the Ponte della Paglia. Will you come with us, Effrena? We must profit by the opportunity. The crowd is rushing toward the Piazzetta. The Queen will leave by the Porta della Carta."
A long, unanimous cry saluted39 the appearance of the fair Queen in her pearls, as she stood at the head of the stairs, where long ago, in the presence of the populace, the Doge received the ducal ensign. Again the name of the white starry40 flower and the pearl arose from the crowd and was echoed among the marbles. Flashes of joy sparkled against the dark sky, a thousand fiery41 doves flew from the pinnacles42 of San Marco, like messengers of Fire.
"The Epiphany of the Flame!" cried La Foscarina, as she reached the Molo and gazed upon the marvelous spectacle.
Donatella Arvale and Stelio Effrena stood side by side, astonished; then they looked into each other's eyes, bewildered. And their faces, illumined by the reflections, shone as if they were leaning over a furnace or a glowing crater43.
All the innumerable appearances of the volatile44 and multi-colored Fire spread over the firmament45, crept over the waters, curled around the masts of the ships, enwreathed the cupolas and the towers, adorned46 the friezes47, draped the statuary, bejeweled the capitals, enriched every line and transfigured every aspect of the sacred and profane48 architectures around that profound and mysterious watery49 mirror, which multiplied these marvels50. The astonished eye could no longer distinguish between the contour and the quality of the elements, but it was charmed by a moving vision wherein all forms lived a lucid51, fluid life, suspended in vibrating ether, so that the slender prows53 curving over the waves and the myriad54 of golden doves against the dark sky seemed to rival one another in the glory of swift motion, and together to reach the summit of immaterial beauty. That which in the twilight had seemed a silvery palace of Neptune55, built in imitation of a rare shell, at this hour had become a new temple, erected56 by the nimble genii of the Fire. It seemed like one of those labyrinthian57 constructions of our dreams, prodigiously58 enlarged, that rise on andirons, at the hundred gates of which stand the two-faced augurs59 who make ambiguous gestures to the watching maiden60; or like one of those fairy-like red palaces, at the thousand windows of which appear the faces of salamander princesses, who smile amorously61 upon the dreaming poet.
Rosy62 as a setting moon, the sphere of the Fortuna, borne on the shoulders of the Atlantides, radiated on the triple loggia, its rays engendering63 a cycle of satellites. From the Riva, from San Giorgio, from the Giudecca, with a continual crackling, clusters of fiery stems rose toward the clouds, and there blossomed into sparkling roses, lilies, and palms, a flowery paradise, forming an aerial garden that continually faded and bloomed again with yet stranger and richer blossoms. It was like a rapid succession of springs and autumns in the empyrean. An immense sparkling shower of leaves and petals64 fell from the celestial65 dissolutions, enveloping66 all things in its golden shimmer67.
From a distance, through gaps in the glittering rain, a flotilla gay with flags could be seen approaching over the waters of the lagoon: a fairy-like fleet such as might float through the dream of a sybarite sleeping his last sleep on a bed steeped in deadly perfumes. Like those, perhaps, their ropes were made from the twisted hair of slaves captured in conquered cities, and still redolent of fragrant68 oils; like those, perhaps, their hulls69 were laden70 with myrrh, spikenard, benzoin, cinnamon, aromatic71 herbs; with sandal-wood, cedar73, terebinth, and all oderiferous woods in rich profusion74. The indescribable colors of the flags suggested perfumes and spices. Of blue-green peacock shades, saffron, violet, and indistinct hues75, those flaming flags seemed to spring from some burning interior and to have been colored by some unknown process.
"The Epiphany of the Flame!" repeated La Foscarina. "What an unforeseen commentary on your poem, Effrena! The City of Life responds by a miracle to your act of adoration76. She burns, through her watery veil. Are you not satisfied? Look! Millions of golden pomegranates are hanging everywhere!"
The actress was smiling, her face illumined by the magic fire. She was suddenly possessed77 by that singular gayety of hers which Stelio knew well, and which, because of its effect of incongruity78 with her usual pose, suggested to him the image of a dark, closed house where violent hands had suddenly opened on rusty79 hinges all the doors and windows.
"We must praise Ariadne," he replied, "for having uttered, in all this harmony, the most sublime80 note."
Stelio said those flattering words only to induce the fair singer to speak, only through a desire to know the timbre81 of that voice when it descended from the heights of song. But his praise was lost in the reiterated82 clamor of the crowd, which overflowed83 on the Molo, making a longer stay impossible. From the bank, Stelio assisted the two friends into their gondola; then he sat down on a stool at their knees, and the long, dentellated prow52 sparkled, like all else, in the magic fire.
"To the Rio Marin, by the Grand Canal," La Foscarina ordered the gondolier. "Do you know, Effrena, we are to have at supper some of your best friends: Francesco de Lizo, Daniele Glauro, Prince Hoditz, Antimo della Bella, Fabio Molza, Baldassare Stampa"—
"Then it will be a banquet?"
"And will not Lady Myrta, with her Veronese greyhounds, be there?"
"Rest assured that we shall have Lady Myrta. Did you not see her in the hall? She sat in the first row, lost in admiration85 of you."
Because they had looked into each other's eyes as they spoke86, a sudden emotion seized them. The remembrance of that full twilight hour on the water that rippled87 beneath their oar88 filled their hearts with a wave of troubled blood; and each was surprised by a swift return of the same agitation89 felt when leaving the silent estuary90 already in the power of shadow and death. Their lips refused to utter vain, light words; their souls refused to make the effort to incline themselves through prudence91 toward the passing trivialities of the superficial life, which now seemed worthless to both; and their spirits became absorbed in the contemplation of the strange fancies that rose from their inmost thoughts in a garb92 of indescribable richness, like the heaped-up treasures the streams of light seemed to reveal in the depths of the nocturnal waters.
And, because of that very silence, they felt the presence of the singer weigh heavily upon them, as in the moment when her name had first been spoken between them; and little by little the oppression became intolerable. Although Stelio was seated close to her, she appeared no less distant than when she rose above the forest of instruments; she was as absent and unconscious as she had been when her voice soared high in song. She had not yet spoken.
Simply to hear her speak, and almost timidly, Stelio said:
"Shall you remain some time longer in Venice?"
He had pondered on the first words he should say to her, but was dissatisfied with whatever rose to his lips, for all phrases seemed too vivid, insidious93, full of ambiguous significance, capable of infinite changes and transformations94, like the unknown seed from which may spring a thousand roots. And it seemed to him that Perdita could not hear one of those phrases without feeling that a shadow darkened her love.
After he had spoken those simple, conventional words, he reflected that even that question might suggest an infinity95 of hope and eagerness.
"I must leave Venice to-morrow," Donatella replied. "I ought not to be here even now."
Her voice, so clear and powerful in the heights of song, was low and sober, as if suffused96 with a slight opacity97, suggesting the image of the most precious metal wrapped in the most delicate velvet98. Her brief reply indicated that there was a place of suffering to which she must return, where she must undergo some familiar torture. Like iron tempered with tears, a strong though sorrowful will shone through the veil of her youthful beauty.
"To-morrow!" Stelio exclaimed, not seeking to hide his sincere regret. "Have you heard, Signora?"
"I know," the actress replied, gently taking Donatella's hand. "I am filled with regret to see her go. But she cannot remain away longer from her father. Perhaps you do not yet know"—
"What?" asked Stelio quickly. "Is he ill? Is it true, then, that Lorenzo Arvale is ill?"
"No, he is only fatigued," said La Foscarina, touching99 her forehead with a gesture perhaps involuntary but which revealed to Stelio the horrible menace hanging over the genius of the artist who had seemed as fertile and indefatigable100 as one of the old masters—a Della Robbia or a Verrocchio.
"He is only fatigued," repeated La Foscarina. "He needs repose101 and quiet. And his daughter's singing is very soothing102 to him. Do you not believe, also, Effrena, in the healing power of music?"
"Certainly," Stelio replied, "Ariadne possesses a divine gift whereby her power transcends103 all limits."
The name of Ariadne came spontaneously to his lips to indicate the singer as she appeared to his fancy, for it seemed to him impossible to pronounce the young girl's real name preceded by the ordinary appellation104 imposed by social usage. In his eyes she was perfect and singular, free from the little ties of custom, living her own sequestered105 life, like a work of art on which style had set its inviolable seal. He thought of her as isolated106 like those figures that stand out with clear contour, far from common life, lost in mystic reverie; and already, before that impenetrable character, he felt a sort of passionate107 impatience108, somewhat similar to that of a curious man before something hermetically sealed that tempts109 him.
"Ariadne had for the soothing of her griefs the gift of forgetfulness," said Donatella, "and that I do not possess."
A bitterness perhaps involuntary infused these words, in which Stelio fancied he detected the indication of an aspiration110 toward a life less oppressed by useless suffering. He guessed at her revolt against a certain form of domestic slavery, the horror of her self-imposed sacrifice, her vehement desire to rise toward joy, and her inborn111 aptitude112 for being drawn like a beautiful bow by a strong hand that would know how to use it for some high conquest. He divined that she had no longer any hope of her father's recovery, and that she was saddened at the thought that henceforth she could only be the guardian of a darkened hearth113, of ashes without a spark. The image of the great artist rose in his mind, not as he was, since Stelio never had known him personally, but such as he had fancied the sculptor114 after studying his ideas of beauty expressed in imperishable bronze and marble. His mind fixed115 itself on that image with a sensation of terror more icy than that which the most appalling116 aspects of death could have inspired. And all his strength, all his pride and his ardor117 seemed to resound118 within him like weapons shaken by a menacing hand, sending a quiver through every fiber119 of his heart.
Presently La Foscarina lifted the funereal120 black curtain, which suddenly, amid the splendors121 of the festival, had seemed to change the gondola into a coffin122.
"Look!" she said, pointing out to Stelio the balcony of Desdemona's palace: "See the beautiful Nineta receiving the homage123 of the Serenade, as she sits between her pet monkey and her little dog."
"Ah, the beautiful Nineta!" said Stelio, rousing himself from his wild thoughts, and saluting124 the smiling occupant of the balcony, a little woman who was listening to the music, her face illumined from two silver candelabra, from the branches of which hung wreaths of the last roses of the year. "I have not yet seen her this time. She is the gentlest and most graceful125 animal I know. How fortunate was our dear Howitz to discover her behind the lid of an old harpsichord126 when he was rummaging127 in that curiosity shop at San Samuele! Two pieces of good fortune in one day: the lovely Nineta and a harpsichord lid painted by Pordenone. Since that day, the harmony of his life has been complete. How I should like to have you penetrate128 to his nest! You would find there a perfect example of that which I spoke of this evening, at twilight. There is a man who, by obeying his native taste for simplicity129, has arranged for himself with minute art his own little love-story, in which he lives as happily as did his Moravian ancestor in the Arcady of Rosswald. Ah! I know a thousand exquisite130 things about him!"
A large gondola, decorated with many-colored lanterns, and laden with singers and musicians, had stopped beneath the balcony of Desdemona's house. The old song of brief youth and fleeting131 beauty rose sweetly toward the little woman who listened with her child-like smile, sitting between the monkey and the lapdog, making a group like one of Pietro Longhi's prints.
Do beni vu gharè
Beleza e zoventù;
Co i va no i torna più,
Nina mia cara....
"Does it not seem to you, Effrena, that these surroundings express the true soul of Venice, and that the other picture, which you presented to the multitude, is only your own fancy?" said La Foscarina, nodding her head slightly in time with the rhythm of the sweet song that spread through the Grand Canal and was reechoed from afar by singers in other gondolas132.
"No," Stelio replied, "this does not at all represent the true soul of Venice. In each one of us, fluttering like a butterfly over the surface of our deeper nature, is a lighter133 soul, an animula, a little playful sprite that often dominates us for the moment, and leads us toward simple and mediocre134 pleasures, toward puerile135 pastimes and frivolous136 music. This animula vagula exists even in the gravest and most violent natures, like the clown attached to the person of Othello; and sometimes it misleads our better judgment137. That which you hear now, in the songs and the melodies of the guitars, is the animula, or lighter spirit, of Venice; but her real soul is discovered only in silence, and most terribly, be assured, in full summer, at noonday, like the soul of the great god Pan. Out in the harbor of San Marco, I thought that you felt its mystic vibration138 during those moments of the great conflagration. You are forgetting Giorgione for Rosalba!"
Around the large gondola beneath the balcony had gathered other gondolas bearing languid women who leaned out to listen to the music in attitudes of graceful abandon, as if in fancy they felt themselves sinking into invisible arms. And around this romantic group the reflections of the lanterns in the water quivered like a flowering of rare and luminous139 water-lilies.
Se lassarè passar
La bela e fresca età,
Un zorno i ve dirà
Vechia maura,
E bramarè, ma invan,
Quel che ghavevi in man
Co avè lassà scampar
La congiontura.
It was, in truth, the song of the last roses that entwined the candelabra. It called up in Perdita's mind the funeral cortège of the dead Summer, the opalescent140 veil in which Stelio had wrapped the sweet body in its golden robe. Through the glass, sealed by the Master of Fire, she could see her own image at the bottom of the lagoon, lying on a field of seaweed. A sudden chill stole over her; once more she felt horror and disgust of her own body, no longer young. And, remembering her recent promise, thinking that perhaps this very night the beloved one would claim its fulfilment, she shuddered141 with a sort of sorrowful modesty142, a mingling143 of fear and pride. Her experience and despairing eyes ran over the young girl beside her, studying her, penetrating144 her, realizing her occult but certain power, her intact freshness, pure health, and that indefinable virtue145 of love that emanates146 like an aroma72 from chaste147 maidens148 when they have arrived at the perfection of their bloom. She felt that some secret current of affinity149 existed between this fair creature and the poet; she could almost divine the words he addressed to her in the silence of his heart. A bitter pang150 seized her, so intolerable that, with an involuntary movement, her fingers clutched convulsively the black rope of the arm-rest beside her, so that the little metal griffin that held it creaked audibly.
This movement did not escape Stelio's anxious vigilance. He understood her agitation, and for a moment he experienced the same pang, but it was mingled151 with impatience and almost with anger, for her anguish152, like a cry of destruction, interrupted the fiction of transcendent life that he had been constructing within himself in order to conciliate the contrast, to conquer this new force that offered itself to him like a bow to be drawn, yet at the same time not to lose the savor153 of that ripe maturity which life had impregnated with all its essences, and the benefit of that devotion and that passionate faith which sharpened his intelligence and fed his pride.
"Ah, Perdita!" he said to himself, "From the ferment154 of your human loves, why has not a love more than human sprung. Ah, why have I finally vanquished155 you by my pleading, although I know it is too late? and why do you allow me to read in your eyes the certainty of your yielding, amid a flood of doubts which, nevertheless, never again will have power to re?stablish the abolished interdiction156. Each of us knows full well that that interdiction conferred the highest dignity upon our long communion, yet we have not known how to preserve its rule, and at the last hour we yield blindly to an imperious internal call. Yet, a short time ago, when your noble head dominated the belt of constellations157, I no longer saw in you an earthly love, but the illuminating158, revelatory Muse159 of my poetry; and all my heart went out to you in gratitude160, not for the promise of a fleeting happiness, but for the promise of glory. Do you not understand—you, who understand everything? By a marvelous inspiration, such as always comes to you, have you not turned my inclination161, by the ray of your smile, toward a resplendent youthfulness which you have chosen and reserved for me? When you descended the stairway together, and approached me, had you not the appearance of one that bears a gift or an unexpected message? Not wholly unexpected, perhaps, Perdita! For I have anticipated from your infinite wisdom some extraordinary action toward me."
"How happy the beautiful Nineta is, with her monkey and her little dog!" sighed the actress, looking back at the light songsters and the smiling woman on the balcony.
La zoventù xe un fior
Che apena nato el mor,
E un zorno gnanca mi
No sarò quela.
Donatella Arvale and Stelio also looked back, while the light barque, without sinking, bore over the water and past the music the three faces of a heavy destiny.
E vegna quel che vol,
Lassè che voga!
Suddenly, in front of the red palace of the Foscari, at the curve of the canal, they saw the state vessel162 of the Doge of Venice so brightly illumined that it looked like a burning tower. New streaks163 of fire flashed against the sky. Other flaming doves flew up from the deck, rose above the terraces, sank among the statues, hissed164 as they fell into the water, multiplied themselves in thousands of sparks, and floated along in smoke. Along the parapets, from the decks, the poop, the prow, in a simultaneous explosion, a thousand fountains of fire opened, dilated, blended, illuminating with an intense, fiery radiance each side of the canal as far as San Vitale and the Rialto. Then the vessel of the Doge glided165 out of sight, transformed into a purple thunder-cloud.
"Go through San Polo!" called La Foscarina to the gondolier, bending her head as under a storm, and shutting out the roar with her palms over her ears.
Again Donatella Arvale and Stelio Effreno looked at each other with dazzled eyes. Again their faces, lighted by the glare, glowed as if they were leaning over a furnace or a burning crater.
The gondola turned into the canal of San Polo, gliding166 along through the darkness. A cold shadow seemed suddenly to fall over the spirits of the three silent occupants. Under the arch of the bridge, the hollow echo of the dipping oar struck upon their souls, and the hilarity167 of the festival sounded infinitely168 far-away. All the houses were dark; the campanile rose silent and solitary169 toward the stars; the Campiello del Remer and the Campiello del Pistor were deserted170, and the grass breathed there in untrodden peace; the trees, bending over the low walls of the little gardens, seemed to feel their leaves dying on the branches pointing to the serene171 sky.
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1
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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7
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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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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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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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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30
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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31
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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glamor
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| n.魅力，吸引力 | |
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34
lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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35
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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36
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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37
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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38
gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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40
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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41
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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42
pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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45
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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46
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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47
friezes
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| n.（柱顶过梁和挑檐间的）雕带，（墙顶的）饰带( frieze的名词复数 ) | |
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48
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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49
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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50
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51
lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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52
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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53
prows
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| n.船首( prow的名词复数 ) | |
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54
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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55
Neptune
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| n.海王星 | |
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56
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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57
labyrinthian
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| 错综复杂的 | |
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58
prodigiously
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| adv.异常地，惊人地，巨大地 | |
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59
augurs
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| n.（古罗马的）占兆官( augur的名词复数 )；占卜师，预言者v.预示，预兆，预言( augur的第三人称单数 )；成为预兆；占卜 | |
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60
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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61
amorously
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| adv.好色地，妖艳地；脉；脉脉；眽眽 | |
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62
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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63
engendering
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的现在分词 ) | |
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64
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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65
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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66
enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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67
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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68
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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69
hulls
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| 船体( hull的名词复数 )； 船身； 外壳； 豆荚 | |
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70
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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71
aromatic
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| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
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72
aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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73
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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74
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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75
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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76
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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77
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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78
incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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79
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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80
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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81
timbre
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| n.音色，音质 | |
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82
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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84
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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85
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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86
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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87
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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88
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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89
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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90
estuary
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| n.河口，江口 | |
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91
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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92
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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93
insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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94
transformations
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| n.变化( transformation的名词复数 )；转换；转换；变换 | |
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95
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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96
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
opacity
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| n.不透明；难懂 | |
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98
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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99
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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100
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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101
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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102
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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103
transcends
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| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的第三人称单数 )； 优于或胜过… | |
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104
appellation
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| n.名称，称呼 | |
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105
sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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106
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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107
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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108
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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109
tempts
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| v.引诱或怂恿（某人）干不正当的事( tempt的第三人称单数 )；使想要 | |
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110
aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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111
inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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112
aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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113
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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114
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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115
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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116
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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117
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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118
resound
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| v.回响 | |
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119
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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120
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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121
splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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122
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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123
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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124
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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125
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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126
harpsichord
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| n.键琴（钢琴前身） | |
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127
rummaging
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
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128
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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129
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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130
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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131
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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132
gondolas
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| n.狭长小船( gondola的名词复数 )；货架（一般指商店，例如化妆品店）；吊船工作台 | |
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133
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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134
mediocre
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| adj.平常的，普通的 | |
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135
puerile
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| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
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136
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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137
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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138
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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139
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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140
opalescent
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| adj.乳色的，乳白的 | |
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141
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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142
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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143
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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144
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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145
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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146
emanates
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的第三人称单数 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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147
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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148
maidens
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| 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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149
affinity
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| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
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150
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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151
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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152
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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153
savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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154
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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155
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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156
interdiction
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| n.禁止；封锁 | |
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157
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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158
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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159
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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160
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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161
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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162
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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163
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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164
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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165
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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166
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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167
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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168
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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169
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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170
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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171
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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