ATHELSTAN, the son of Edward the Elder, succeeded that king. He reigned1 only fifteen years; but he remembered the glory of his grandfather, the great Alfred, and governed England well. He reduced the turbulent people of Wales, and obliged them to pay him a tribute in money, and in cattle, and to send him their best hawks3 and hounds. He was victorious4 over the Cornish men, who were not yet quite under the Saxon government. He restored such of the old laws as were good, and had fallen into disuse; made some wise new laws, and took care of the poor and weak. A strong alliance, made against him by ANLAF a Danish prince, CONSTANTINE King of the Scots, and the people of North Wales, he broke and defeated in one great battle, long famous for the vast numbers slain5 in it. After that, he had a quiet reign2; the lords and ladies about him had leisure to become polite and agreeable; and foreign princes were glad (as they have sometimes been since) to come to England on visits to the English court.
When Athelstan died, at forty-seven years old, his brother EDMUND, who was only eighteen, became king. He was the first of six boy- kings, as you will presently know.
They called him the Magnificent, because he showed a taste for improvement and refinement6. But he was beset7 by the Danes, and had a short and troubled reign, which came to a troubled end. One night, when he was feasting in his hall, and had eaten much and drunk deep, he saw, among the company, a noted8 robber named LEOF, who had been banished9 from England. Made very angry by the boldness of this man, the King turned to his cup-bearer, and said, 'There is a robber sitting at the table yonder, who, for his crimes, is an outlaw10 in the land - a hunted wolf, whose life any man may take, at any time. Command that robber to depart!' 'I will not depart!' said Leof. 'No?' cried the King. 'No, by the Lord!' said Leof. Upon that the King rose from his seat, and, making passionately11 at the robber, and seizing him by his long hair, tried to throw him down. But the robber had a dagger12 underneath13 his cloak, and, in the scuffle, stabbed the King to death. That done, he set his back against the wall, and fought so desperately14, that although he was soon cut to pieces by the King's armed men, and the wall and pavement were splashed with his blood, yet it was not before he had killed and wounded many of them. You may imagine what rough lives the kings of those times led, when one of them could struggle, half drunk, with a public robber in his own dining-hall, and be stabbed in presence of the company who ate and drank with him.
Then succeeded the boy-king EDRED, who was weak and sickly in body, but of a strong mind. And his armies fought the Northmen, the Danes, and Norwegians, or the Sea-Kings, as they were called, and beat them for the time. And, in nine years, Edred died, and passed away.
Then came the boy-king EDWY, fifteen years of age; but the real king, who had the real power, was a monk15 named DUNSTAN - a clever priest, a little mad, and not a little proud and cruel.
Dunstan was then Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, whither the body of King Edmund the Magnificent was carried, to be buried. While yet a boy, he had got out of his bed one night (being then in a fever), and walked about Glastonbury Church when it was under repair; and, because he did not tumble off some scaffolds that were there, and break his neck, it was reported that he had been shown over the building by an angel. He had also made a harp16 that was said to play of itself - which it very likely did, as AEolian Harps17, which are played by the wind, and are understood now, always do. For these wonders he had been once denounced by his enemies, who were jealous of his favour with the late King Athelstan, as a magician; and he had been waylaid18, bound hand and foot, and thrown into a marsh19. But he got out again, somehow, to cause a great deal of trouble yet.
The priests of those days were, generally, the only scholars. They were learned in many things. Having to make their own convents and monasteries20 on uncultivated grounds that were granted to them by the Crown, it was necessary that they should be good farmers and good gardeners, or their lands would have been too poor to support them. For the decoration of the chapels21 where they prayed, and for the comfort of the refectories where they ate and drank, it was necessary that there should be good carpenters, good smiths, good painters, among them. For their greater safety in sickness and accident, living alone by themselves in solitary22 places, it was necessary that they should study the virtues23 of plants and herbs, and should know how to dress cuts, burns, scalds, and bruises24, and how to set broken limbs. Accordingly, they taught themselves, and one another, a great variety of useful arts; and became skilful25 in agriculture, medicine, surgery, and handicraft. And when they wanted the aid of any little piece of machinery26, which would be simple enough now, but was marvellous then, to impose a trick upon the poor peasants, they knew very well how to make it; and DID make it many a time and often, I have no doubt.
Dunstan, Abbot of Glastonbury Abbey, was one of the most sagacious of these monks27. He was an ingenious smith, and worked at a forge in a little cell. This cell was made too short to admit of his lying at full length when he went to sleep - as if THAT did any good to anybody! - and he used to tell the most extraordinary lies about demons28 and spirits, who, he said, came there to persecute29 him. For instance, he related that one day when he was at work, the devil looked in at the little window, and tried to tempt30 him to lead a life of idle pleasure; whereupon, having his pincers in the fire, red hot, he seized the devil by the nose, and put him to such pain, that his bellowings were heard for miles and miles. Some people are inclined to think this nonsense a part of Dunstan's madness (for his head never quite recovered the fever), but I think not. I observe that it induced the ignorant people to consider him a holy man, and that it made him very powerful. Which was exactly what he always wanted.
On the day of the coronation of the handsome boy-king Edwy, it was remarked by ODO, Archbishop of Canterbury (who was a Dane by birth), that the King quietly left the coronation feast, while all the company were there. Odo, much displeased32, sent his friend Dunstan to seek him. Dunstan finding him in the company of his beautiful young wife ELGIVA, and her mother ETHELGIVA, a good and virtuous33 lady, not only grossly abused them, but dragged the young King back into the feasting-hall by force. Some, again, think Dunstan did this because the young King's fair wife was his own cousin, and the monks objected to people marrying their own cousins; but I believe he did it, because he was an imperious, audacious, ill-conditioned priest, who, having loved a young lady himself before he became a sour monk, hated all love now, and everything belonging to it.
The young King was quite old enough to feel this insult. Dunstan had been Treasurer34 in the last reign, and he soon charged Dunstan with having taken some of the last king's money. The Glastonbury Abbot fled to Belgium (very narrowly escaping some pursuers who were sent to put out his eyes, as you will wish they had, when you read what follows), and his abbey was given to priests who were married; whom he always, both before and afterwards, opposed. But he quickly conspired35 with his friend, Odo the Dane, to set up the King's young brother, EDGAR, as his rival for the throne; and, not content with this revenge, he caused the beautiful queen Elgiva, though a lovely girl of only seventeen or eighteen, to be stolen from one of the Royal Palaces, branded in the cheek with a red-hot iron, and sold into slavery in Ireland. But the Irish people pitied and befriended her; and they said, 'Let us restore the girl- queen to the boy-king, and make the young lovers happy!' and they cured her of her cruel wound, and sent her home as beautiful as before. But the villain36 Dunstan, and that other villain, Odo, caused her to be waylaid at Gloucester as she was joyfully37 hurrying to join her husband, and to be hacked38 and hewn with swords, and to be barbarously maimed and lamed39, and left to die. When Edwy the Fair (his people called him so, because he was so young and handsome) heard of her dreadful fate, he died of a broken heart; and so the pitiful story of the poor young wife and husband ends! Ah! Better to be two cottagers in these better times, than king and queen of England in those bad days, though never so fair!
Then came the boy-king, EDGAR, called the Peaceful, fifteen years old. Dunstan, being still the real king, drove all married priests out of the monasteries and abbeys, and replaced them by solitary monks like himself, of the rigid41 order called the Benedictines. He made himself Archbishop of Canterbury, for his greater glory; and exercised such power over the neighbouring British princes, and so collected them about the King, that once, when the King held his court at Chester, and went on the river Dee to visit the monastery42 of St. John, the eight oars43 of his boat were pulled (as the people used to delight in relating in stories and songs) by eight crowned kings, and steered44 by the King of England. As Edgar was very obedient to Dunstan and the monks, they took great pains to represent him as the best of kings. But he was really profligate45, debauched, and vicious. He once forcibly carried off a young lady from the convent at Wilton; and Dunstan, pretending to be very much shocked, condemned46 him not to wear his crown upon his head for seven years - no great punishment, I dare say, as it can hardly have been a more comfortable ornament47 to wear, than a stewpan without a handle. His marriage with his second wife, ELFRIDA, is one of the worst events of his reign. Hearing of the beauty of this lady, he despatched his favourite courtier, ATHELWOLD, to her father's castle in Devonshire, to see if she were really as charming as fame reported. Now, she was so exceedingly beautiful that Athelwold fell in love with her himself, and married her; but he told the King that she was only rich - not handsome. The King, suspecting the truth when they came home, resolved to pay the newly-married couple a visit; and, suddenly, told Athelwold to prepare for his immediate48 coming. Athelwold, terrified, confessed to his young wife what he had said and done, and implored49 her to disguise her beauty by some ugly dress or silly manner, that he might be safe from the King's anger. She promised that she would; but she was a proud woman, who would far rather have been a queen than the wife of a courtier. She dressed herself in her best dress, and adorned50 herself with her richest jewels; and when the King came, presently, he discovered the cheat. So, he caused his false friend, Athelwold, to be murdered in a wood, and married his widow, this bad Elfrida. Six or seven years afterwards, he died; and was buried, as if he had been all that the monks said he was, in the abbey of Glastonbury, which he - or Dunstan for him - had much enriched.
England, in one part of this reign, was so troubled by wolves, which, driven out of the open country, hid themselves in the mountains of Wales when they were not attacking travellers and animals, that the tribute payable51 by the Welsh people was forgiven them, on condition of their producing, every year, three hundred wolves' heads. And the Welshmen were so sharp upon the wolves, to save their money, that in four years there was not a wolf left.
Then came the boy-king, EDWARD, called the Martyr52, from the manner of his death. Elfrida had a son, named ETHELRED, for whom she claimed the throne; but Dunstan did not choose to favour him, and he made Edward king. The boy was hunting, one day, down in Dorsetshire, when he rode near to Corfe Castle, where Elfrida and Ethelred lived. Wishing to see them kindly53, he rode away from his attendants and galloped54 to the castle gate, where he arrived at twilight55, and blew his hunting-horn. 'You are welcome, dear King,' said Elfrida, coming out, with her brightest smiles. 'Pray you dismount and enter.' 'Not so, dear madam,' said the King. 'My company will miss me, and fear that I have met with some harm. Please you to give me a cup of wine, that I may drink here, in the saddle, to you and to my little brother, and so ride away with the good speed I have made in riding here.' Elfrida, going in to bring the wine, whispered an armed servant, one of her attendants, who stole out of the darkening gateway56, and crept round behind the King's horse. As the King raised the cup to his lips, saying, 'Health!' to the wicked woman who was smiling on him, and to his innocent brother whose hand she held in hers, and who was only ten years old, this armed man made a spring and stabbed him in the back. He dropped the cup and spurred his horse away; but, soon fainting with loss of blood, dropped from the saddle, and, in his fall, entangled57 one of his feet in the stirrup. The frightened horse dashed on; trailing his rider's curls upon the ground; dragging his smooth young face through ruts, and stones, and briers, and fallen leaves, and mud; until the hunters, tracking the animal's course by the King's blood, caught his bridle58, and released the disfigured body.
Then came the sixth and last of the boy-kings, ETHELRED, whom Elfrida, when he cried out at the sight of his murdered brother riding away from the castle gate, unmercifully beat with a torch which she snatched from one of the attendants. The people so disliked this boy, on account of his cruel mother and the murder she had done to promote him, that Dunstan would not have had him for king, but would have made EDGITHA, the daughter of the dead King Edgar, and of the lady whom he stole out of the convent at Wilton, Queen of England, if she would have consented. But she knew the stories of the youthful kings too well, and would not be persuaded from the convent where she lived in peace; so, Dunstan put Ethelred on the throne, having no one else to put there, and gave him the nickname of THE UNREADY - knowing that he wanted resolution and firmness.
At first, Elfrida possessed59 great influence over the young King, but, as he grew older and came of age, her influence declined. The infamous60 woman, not having it in her power to do any more evil, then retired61 from court, and, according, to the fashion of the time, built churches and monasteries, to expiate62 her guilt63. As if a church, with a steeple reaching to the very stars, would have been any sign of true repentance64 for the blood of the poor boy, whose murdered form was trailed at his horse's heels! As if she could have buried her wickedness beneath the senseless stones of the whole world, piled up one upon another, for the monks to live in!
About the ninth or tenth year of this reign, Dunstan died. He was growing old then, but was as stern and artful as ever. Two circumstances that happened in connexion with him, in this reign of Ethelred, made a great noise. Once, he was present at a meeting of the Church, when the question was discussed whether priests should have permission to marry; and, as he sat with his head hung down, apparently65 thinking about it, a voice seemed to come out of a crucifix in the room, and warn the meeting to be of his opinion. This was some juggling66 of Dunstan's, and was probably his own voice disguised. But he played off a worse juggle67 than that, soon afterwards; for, another meeting being held on the same subject, and he and his supporters being seated on one side of a great room, and their opponents on the other, he rose and said, 'To Christ himself, as judge, do I commit this cause!' Immediately on these words being spoken, the floor where the opposite party sat gave way, and some were killed and many wounded. You may be pretty sure that it had been weakened under Dunstan's direction, and that it fell at Dunstan's signal. HIS part of the floor did not go down. No, no. He was too good a workman for that.
When he died, the monks settled that he was a Saint, and called him Saint Dunstan ever afterwards. They might just as well have settled that he was a coach-horse, and could just as easily have called him one.
Ethelred the Unready was glad enough, I dare say, to be rid of this holy saint; but, left to himself, he was a poor weak king, and his reign was a reign of defeat and shame. The restless Danes, led by SWEYN, a son of the King of Denmark who had quarrelled with his father and had been banished from home, again came into England, and, year after year, attacked and despoiled68 large towns. To coax69 these sea-kings away, the weak Ethelred paid them money; but, the more money he paid, the more money the Danes wanted. At first, he gave them ten thousand pounds; on their next invasion, sixteen thousand pounds; on their next invasion, four and twenty thousand pounds: to pay which large sums, the unfortunate English people were heavily taxed. But, as the Danes still came back and wanted more, he thought it would be a good plan to marry into some powerful foreign family that would help him with soldiers. So, in the year one thousand and two, he courted and married Emma, the sister of Richard Duke of Normandy; a lady who was called the Flower of Normandy.
And now, a terrible deed was done in England, the like of which was never done on English ground before or since. On the thirteenth of November, in pursuance of secret instructions sent by the King over the whole country, the inhabitants of every town and city armed, and murdered all the Danes who were their neighbours.
Young and old, babies and soldiers, men and women, every Dane was killed. No doubt there were among them many ferocious70 men who had done the English great wrong, and whose pride and insolence71, in swaggering in the houses of the English and insulting their wives and daughters, had become unbearable72; but no doubt there were also among them many peaceful Christian73 Danes who had married English women and become like English men. They were all slain, even to GUNHILDA, the sister of the King of Denmark, married to an English lord; who was first obliged to see the murder of her husband and her child, and then was killed herself.
When the King of the sea-kings heard of this deed of blood, he swore that he would have a great revenge. He raised an army, and a mightier74 fleet of ships than ever yet had sailed to England; and in all his army there was not a slave or an old man, but every soldier was a free man, and the son of a free man, and in the prime of life, and sworn to be revenged upon the English nation, for the massacre75 of that dread40 thirteenth of November, when his countrymen and countrywomen, and the little children whom they loved, were killed with fire and sword. And so, the sea-kings came to England in many great ships, each bearing the flag of its own commander. Golden eagles, ravens76, dragons, dolphins, beasts of prey77, threatened England from the prows78 of those ships, as they came onward79 through the water; and were reflected in the shining shields that hung upon their sides. The ship that bore the standard of the King of the sea-kings was carved and painted like a mighty80 serpent; and the King in his anger prayed that the Gods in whom he trusted might all desert him, if his serpent did not strike its fangs81 into England's heart.
And indeed it did. For, the great army landing from the great fleet, near Exeter, went forward, laying England waste, and striking their lances in the earth as they advanced, or throwing them into rivers, in token of their making all the island theirs. In remembrance of the black November night when the Danes were murdered, wheresoever the invaders82 came, they made the Saxons prepare and spread for them great feasts; and when they had eaten those feasts, and had drunk a curse to England with wild rejoicings, they drew their swords, and killed their Saxon entertainers, and marched on. For six long years they carried on this war: burning the crops, farmhouses83, barns, mills, granaries; killing84 the labourers in the fields; preventing the seed from being sown in the ground; causing famine and starvation; leaving only heaps of ruin and smoking ashes, where they had found rich towns. To crown this misery85, English officers and men deserted86, and even the favourites of Ethelred the Unready, becoming traitors88, seized many of the English ships, turned pirates against their own country, and aided by a storm occasioned the loss of nearly the whole English navy.
There was but one man of note, at this miserable89 pass, who was true to his country and the feeble King. He was a priest, and a brave one. For twenty days, the Archbishop of Canterbury defended that city against its Danish besiegers; and when a traitor87 in the town threw the gates open and admitted them, he said, in chains, 'I will not buy my life with money that must be extorted90 from the suffering people. Do with me what you please!' Again and again, he steadily91 refused to purchase his release with gold wrung92 from the poor.
At last, the Danes being tired of this, and being assembled at a drunken merry-making, had him brought into the feasting-hall.
'Now, bishop31,' they said, 'we want gold!'
He looked round on the crowd of angry faces; from the shaggy beards close to him, to the shaggy beards against the walls, where men were mounted on tables and forms to see him over the heads of others: and he knew that his time was come.
'I have no gold,' he said.
'Get it, bishop!' they all thundered.
'That, I have often told you I will not,' said he.
They gathered closer round him, threatening, but he stood unmoved. Then, one man struck him; then, another; then a cursing soldier picked up from a heap in a corner of the hall, where fragments had been rudely thrown at dinner, a great ox-bone, and cast it at his face, from which the blood came spurting93 forth94; then, others ran to the same heap, and knocked him down with other bones, and bruised95 and battered96 him; until one soldier whom he had baptised (willing, as I hope for the sake of that soldier's soul, to shorten the sufferings of the good man) struck him dead with his battle-axe.
If Ethelred had had the heart to emulate97 the courage of this noble archbishop, he might have done something yet. But he paid the Danes forty-eight thousand pounds, instead, and gained so little by the cowardly act, that Sweyn soon afterwards came over to subdue98 all England. So broken was the attachment99 of the English people, by this time, to their incapable100 King and their forlorn country which could not protect them, that they welcomed Sweyn on all sides, as a deliverer. London faithfully stood out, as long as the King was within its walls; but, when he sneaked101 away, it also welcomed the Dane. Then, all was over; and the King took refuge abroad with the Duke of Normandy, who had already given shelter to the King's wife, once the Flower of that country, and to her children.
Still, the English people, in spite of their sad sufferings, could not quite forget the great King Alfred and the Saxon race. When Sweyn died suddenly, in little more than a month after he had been proclaimed King of England, they generously sent to Ethelred, to say that they would have him for their King again, 'if he would only govern them better than he had governed them before.' The Unready, instead of coming himself, sent Edward, one of his sons, to make promises for him. At last, he followed, and the English declared him King. The Danes declared CANUTE, the son of Sweyn, King. Thus, direful war began again, and lasted for three years, when the Unready died. And I know of nothing better that he did, in all his reign of eight and thirty years.
Was Canute to be King now? Not over the Saxons, they said; they must have EDMUND, one of the sons of the Unready, who was surnamed IRONSIDE, because of his strength and stature102. Edmund and Canute thereupon fell to, and fought five battles - O unhappy England, what a fighting-ground it was! - and then Ironside, who was a big man, proposed to Canute, who was a little man, that they two should fight it out in single combat. If Canute had been the big man, he would probably have said yes, but, being the little man, he decidedly said no. However, he declared that he was willing to divide the kingdom - to take all that lay north of Watling Street, as the old Roman military road from Dover to Chester was called, and to give Ironside all that lay south of it. Most men being weary of so much bloodshed, this was done. But Canute soon became sole King of England; for Ironside died suddenly within two months. Some think that he was killed, and killed by Canute's orders. No one knows.
1 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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2 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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3 hawks | |
鹰( hawk的名词复数 ); 鹰派人物,主战派人物 | |
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4 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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5 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
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6 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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7 beset | |
v.镶嵌;困扰,包围 | |
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8 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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9 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 outlaw | |
n.歹徒,亡命之徒;vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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11 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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12 dagger | |
n.匕首,短剑,剑号 | |
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13 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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14 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
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15 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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16 harp | |
n.竖琴;天琴座 | |
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17 harps | |
abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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18 waylaid | |
v.拦截,拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19 marsh | |
n.沼泽,湿地 | |
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20 monasteries | |
修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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21 chapels | |
n.小教堂, (医院、监狱等的)附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 );(在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的)礼拜仪式 | |
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22 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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23 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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24 bruises | |
n.瘀伤,伤痕,擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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25 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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26 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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27 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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28 demons | |
n.恶人( demon的名词复数 );恶魔;精力过人的人;邪念 | |
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29 persecute | |
vt.迫害,虐待;纠缠,骚扰 | |
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30 tempt | |
vt.引诱,勾引,吸引,引起…的兴趣 | |
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31 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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32 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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33 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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34 treasurer | |
n.司库,财务主管 | |
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35 conspired | |
密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 ); 搞阴谋; (事件等)巧合; 共同导致 | |
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36 villain | |
n.反派演员,反面人物;恶棍;问题的起因 | |
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37 joyfully | |
adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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38 hacked | |
生气 | |
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39 lamed | |
希伯莱语第十二个字母 | |
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40 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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41 rigid | |
adj.严格的,死板的;刚硬的,僵硬的 | |
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42 monastery | |
n.修道院,僧院,寺院 | |
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43 oars | |
n.桨,橹( oar的名词复数 );划手v.划(行)( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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44 steered | |
v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 );操纵;控制;引导 | |
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45 profligate | |
adj.行为不检的;n.放荡的人,浪子,肆意挥霍者 | |
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46 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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47 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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48 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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49 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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51 payable | |
adj.可付的,应付的,有利益的 | |
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52 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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53 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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54 galloped | |
(使马)飞奔,奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 ); 快速做[说]某事 | |
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55 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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56 gateway | |
n.大门口,出入口,途径,方法 | |
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57 entangled | |
adj.卷入的;陷入的;被缠住的;缠在一起的v.使某人(某物/自己)缠绕,纠缠于(某物中),使某人(自己)陷入(困难或复杂的环境中)( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58 bridle | |
n.笼头,束缚;vt.抑制,约束;动怒 | |
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59 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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60 infamous | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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61 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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62 expiate | |
v.抵补,赎罪 | |
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63 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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64 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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65 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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66 juggling | |
n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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67 juggle | |
v.变戏法,纂改,欺骗,同时做;n.玩杂耍,纂改,花招 | |
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68 despoiled | |
v.掠夺,抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69 coax | |
v.哄诱,劝诱,用诱哄得到,诱取 | |
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70 ferocious | |
adj.凶猛的,残暴的,极度的,十分强烈的 | |
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71 insolence | |
n.傲慢;无礼;厚颜;傲慢的态度 | |
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72 unbearable | |
adj.不能容忍的;忍受不住的 | |
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73 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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74 mightier | |
adj. 强有力的,强大的,巨大的 adv. 很,极其 | |
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75 massacre | |
n.残杀,大屠杀;v.残杀,集体屠杀 | |
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76 ravens | |
n.低质煤;渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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77 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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78 prows | |
n.船首( prow的名词复数 ) | |
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79 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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80 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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81 fangs | |
n.(尤指狗和狼的)长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 );(蛇的)毒牙;罐座 | |
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82 invaders | |
入侵者,侵略者,侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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83 farmhouses | |
n.农舍,农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
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84 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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85 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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86 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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87 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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88 traitors | |
卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 ); 叛徒; 背叛者; 背信弃义的人 | |
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89 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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90 extorted | |
v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 );曲解 | |
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91 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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92 wrung | |
绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 ); 握紧(尤指别人的手); 把(湿衣服)拧干; 绞掉(水) | |
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93 spurting | |
(液体,火焰等)喷出,(使)涌出( spurt的现在分词 ); (短暂地)加速前进,冲刺; 溅射 | |
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94 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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95 bruised | |
[医]青肿的,瘀紫的 | |
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96 battered | |
adj.磨损的;v.连续猛击;磨损 | |
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97 emulate | |
v.努力赶上或超越,与…竞争;效仿 | |
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98 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
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99 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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100 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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101 sneaked | |
v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 );偷偷溜走;(儿童向成人)打小报告;告状 | |
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102 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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