A sketch7 of the rise of the capital of Ireland, with all the changes produced in Irish life by the new modes of thought and action introduced by Norman influence, forms therefore a fitting close to the legendary and early-historic period, so full of poetry and charm for the imagination, with its splendour of kings and bards8, its shadowy romance and mist-woven dreams, and its ideal fairy world of beauty and grace, of music and song; when the people lived the free, joyous9 life of the childhood of humanity under their native princes, and the terrible struggle of a crushed and oppressed nation against a foreign master had not yet begun; the struggle that has lasted for seven centuries, and still goes on with exhaustless force and fervour.
The history of cities is the history of nations—the most perfect index of the social altitude, mental development, physical perfection, and political freedom, which at any given period a people may have attained12. Every stone within a city is a hieroglyphic13 of the century that saw it raised. By it we trace human progression through all its phases; from the first rude fisher’s hut, the altar of the primitive14 priest, the mound15 of the first nomad16 warrior17, the stone fortalice or simple fane of the early Christian18 race, up to the stately and beautiful temples and palaces which evidence the luxury and refinement19 of a people in its proudest excess, or human genius in its climax20 of manifestation21.
Thus Babylon, Thebes, Rome, Jerusalem, are words that express nations. The ever-during interest of the world circles round them, for their ruins are true and eternal pages of human history. Every fallen column is a fragment of a past ritual, or a symbol of a dynasty. The very dust is vital with great memories, and a philosopher, like the comparative anatomist, might construct the entire life of a people—its religion, literature, and laws—from these fragments of extinct generations—these fossil paleographs of man.
Statue and column, mausoleum and shrine22, are trophies23 of a nation’s triumphs or its tragedies. The young children, as they gaze on them, learn the story of the native heroes, poets, saints, and martyrs26, leaders and lawgivers, who have flung their own glory as a regal mantle27 over their country. Spirits of the past, from the phantom-land, dwell in the midst of them. We feel their presence, and hear their words of inspiration or warning, alike in the grandeur28 or decadence29 of an ancient city.
Modern capitals represent also, not only the history of the past, but the living concentrated will of the entire nation. Thus is it297 with London, Berlin, and Vienna, while Paris, the cité verbe, as Victor Hugo calls her, represents not only the tendencies of France, but of Europe.
Dublin, however, differs from all other capitals, past or present, in this wise—that by its history we trace, not the progress of the native race, but the triumphs of its enemies; and that the concentrated will of Dublin has always been in antagonism30 to the feelings of a large portion of the nation.
The truth is, that though our chief city of Ireland has an historical existence older than Christianity, yet this fair Ath-Cliath has no pretension31 to be called our ancient mother. From first to last, from a thousand years ago till now, Dublin has held the position of a foreign fortress32 within the kingdom; and its history has no other emblazonment beyond that of unceasing hostility33 or indifference34 to the native race.
“The inhabitants are mere35 English, though of Irish birth,” wrote Hooker, three hundred years ago. “The citizens,” says Holingshed, “have from time to time so galled36 the Irish, that even to this day the Irish fear a ragged37 and jagged black standard that the citizens have, though almost worn to the stumps38.” Up to Henry the Seventh’s reign11, an Englishman of Dublin was not punished for killing39 an Irishman, nor were Irishmen admitted to any office within the city that concerned the government either of the souls or bodies of the citizens. The Viceroys, the Archbishops, the Judges, the Mayors, the Corporations, were all and always English, down to the very guild43 of tailors, of whom it stands on record that they would allow no Irishman to be of their fraternity. As the American colonists44 treated the red man, as the Spaniards of Cortez treated the Mexicans, as the English colony of India treated the ancient Indian princes, tribes, and people, so the English race of Dublin treated the Irish nation. They were a people to be crushed, ruined, persecuted45, tormented46, extirpated47; and the Irish race, it must be confessed, retorted the hatred48 with as bitter an animosity. The rising of 1641 was like all Irish attempts—a wild, helpless, disorganized effort at revenge; and seven years later we read that Owen Roe24 O’Neil burned the country about Dublin, so that from one steeple there two hundred fires could be seen at once.
This being the position of a country and its capital, it is evident that no effort for national independence could gain nourishment49 in Dublin. Our metropolis50 is associated with no glorious moment of a nation’s career, while in all the dark tragedies of our gloomy history its name and influence predominate. Dublin is connected with Irish patriotism51 only by the scaffold and the gallows53. Statue and column do indeed rise there, but not to honour the sons of the soil. The public idols54 are foreign potentates56 and foreign heroes. Macaulay says eloquently58 on this subject, “The Irish people are298 doomed60 to see in every place the monuments of their subjugation61; before the senate-house, the statue of their conqueror62—within, the walls tapestried63 with the defeats of their fathers.”
No public statue of an illustrious Irishman until recently ever graced the Irish capital. No monument exists to which the gaze of the young Irish children can be directed, while their fathers tell them, “This was to the glory of your countrymen.” Even the lustre66 Dublin borrowed from her great Norman colonists has passed away. Her nobility are remembered only as we note the desecration67 of their palaces; the most beautiful of all our metropolitan68 buildings but reminds us that there the last remnant of political independence was sold; the stately Custom-house, that Dublin has no trade; the regal pile of Dublin Castle, that it was reared by foreign hands to “curb and awe69 the city.”
It is in truth a gloomy task to awaken70 the memories of Dublin, even of this century. There, in that obscure house of Thomas Street, visions rise of a ghastly night-scene, where the young, passionate71-hearted Geraldine was struggling vainly in death-agony with his betrayers and captors. Pass on through the same street, and close by St. Catherine’s Church you can trace the spot where the gallows was erected72 for Robert Emmet. Before that sombre prison pile two young brothers, handsome, educated, and well-born, and many a fair young form after them, expiated73 by death their fatal aspirations74 for Irish freedom. Look at that magnificent portal, leading now to the tables of the money-changers; through it, not a century ago, men, entrusted75 with the nation’s rights, entered to sell them, and came forth76, not branded traitors78, but decorated, enriched, and rewarded with titles, pensions, and honours.
Yet the anomalous80 relation between our country and its capital springs naturally from the antecedents of both. Dublin was neither built by the Irish nor peopled by the Irish; it is a Scandinavian settlement in the midst of a southern nation. Long even before the Norman invasion two races existed in Ireland, as different as the lines of migration81 by which each had reached it; and though ages have rolled away since Scythian and Southern first met in this distant land, yet the elemental distinctions have never been lost: the races have never blended into one homogeneous nationality. Other nations, like the English, have blended with their conquerors82, and progression and a higher civilization have been the result. Roman, Saxon, Dane, and Norman, each left their impress on the primitive Briton; and from Roman courage, Saxon thrift83, and Norman pride has been evolved the strong, wise, proud island-nation that rules the world—the Ocean-Rome. A similar blending of opposite elements, but in different proportions, has produced Scotch84 national character—grave, wise, learned, provident85, industrious86, and unconquerably independent.299 But the Irish race remains87 distinct from all others, as Jew or Zincali. It has no elective affinities88, enters into no new combinations, forms no new results, attracts to itself no Scythian qualities of stern self-reliance and the indomitable pride of independence, but still retains all the old virtues89 and vices90 of their semi-oriental nature, which make the history of Ireland so sad a record of mere passionate impulses ending mostly in failure and despair. The English, slow in speech and repellent in manner, are yet able not only to rule themselves well and ably, but to rule the world; while the Irish, so fascinating, eloquent57, brave, and gifted, have never yet achieved a distinctive91 place in the political system of Europe. We had even the advantage of an earlier education; we taught England her letters, Christianized her people, sheltered her saints, educated her princes; we give her the best generals, the best statesmen, the best armies; yet, withal, we have never yet found the strength to govern our own kingdom. Ethnologists will tell you this comes of race. It may be so. Let us then sail up the stream of time to Ararat, and try to find our ancestry92 amongst the children of the eight primal93 gods, as the ancients termed them, who there stepped forth from their ocean prison to people the newly baptized world.
A very clever German advises all reviewers to begin from the Deluge94, so that by no possibility can a single fact, direct or collateral95, escape notice connected with the matter in hand. When treating of Ireland this rule becomes a necessity. Our nation dates from the dispersion, and our faults and failings, our features and our speech, have an authentic97 hereditary98 descent of four thousand years. Other primitive nations have been lost by migration, annihilated99 by war, swallowed up in empires, overwhelmed by barbarians100: thus it was that the old kingdoms of Europe changed masters, and that the old nations and tongues passed away. Here only, in this island prison of the Atlantic, can the old race of primitive Europe be still found existing as a nation, speaking the same tongue as the early tribes that first wandered westward101, when Europe itself was an unpeopled wilderness102.
We learn from sacred record that the first migrations103 of the human family, with “one language and one speech,” were from the East; and every successive wave of population has still flowed from the rising towards the setting sun. The progression of intellect and science is ever westward. The march of humanity is opposed to the path of the planet. Life moves contrary to matter. A metaphor104, it may be, of our spirit exile—this travelling “daily further from the East;” yet, when at the farthest limit, we are but approaching the glory of the East again.
Gradually, along the waters of the Mediterranean105, the beautiful islands on its bosom106 serving as resting-places for the wanderers, or bridges for the tribes to pass over, the primal families of the300 Japhetian race reached in succession the three great Peninsulas of the Great Sea, in each leaving the germ of a mighty107 nation. Still onward108, led by the providence109 of God, they passed the portals of the Atlantic, coasted the shores of the vine-clad France, and so reached at length the “Isles110 of the Setting Sun,” upon the very verge111 of Western Europe.
But many centuries may have elapsed during the slow progression of these maritime112 colonies, who have left their names indelibly stamped on the earth’s surface, from Ionia to the Tartessus of Spain; and Miriam may have chanted the death-song of Pharaoh, and Moses led forth the people of God, before the descendants of the first navigators landed amidst the verdant114 solitudes115 of Ireland.
The earliest tribes that reached our island, though removed so far from the centre of light and wisdom, must still have been familiar with all science necessary to preserve existence, and to organize a new country into a human habitation. They cleared the forests, worked the mines, built chambers116 for the dead, after the manner of their kindred left in Tyre and Greece, wrought118 arms, defensive119 and offensive, such as the heroes of Marathon used against the long-haired Persians; they raised altars and pillar-stones, still standing120 amongst us, mysterious and eternal symbols of a simple primitive creed121; they had bards, priests, and lawgivers, the old tongue of Shinar, the dress of Nineveh, and the ancient faith whose ritual was prayer and sacrifice.
The kindred races who remained stationary122, built cities and temples, still a world’s wonder, and arts flourished amongst them impossible to the nomads123 of the plains, or the wanderers by the ocean islands; but the destiny of dispersion was still on the race, and from these central points of civilization, tribes and families constantly went forth to achieve new conquests over the yet untamed earth.
Whatever wisdom the early island colonizers had brought with them, would have died out for want of nourishment, had not these new tribes, from countries where civilization had become developed and permanent, constantly given fresh impulses to progress. With stronger and more powerful arts and arms, they, in succession, gained dominion124 over their weaker predecessors125, and by commerce, laws, arts, and learning, they organized families into nations, enlightening while they subjugated126.
The conquest of Canaan gave the second great impetus127 to the human tides ever flowing westward. Irish tradition has even, in a confused manner, preserved the names of two amongst the leaders of the Sidonian fugitives128 who landed in Ireland. Partholan, with his wife Elga, and Gadelius, with his wife Scota.
“This Gadelius,” say the legends,301 “was a noble gentleman, right wise, valiant129, and well spoken, who, after Pharaoh was drowned, sailed for Spain, and from thence to Ireland, with a colony of Greeks and Egyptians, and his wife Scota, a daughter of Pharaoh’s; and he taught letters to the Irish, and warlike feats64 after the Greek and Egyptian manner.”
These later tribes brought with them the Syrian arts and civilization, such as dyeing and weaving, working in gold, silver, and brass130, besides the written characters, the same that Cadmus afterwards gave to Greece, and which remained in use amongst the Irish, it is said, until modified by Saint Patrick into their present form, to assimilate them to the Latin.
Continued intercourse131 with their Syrian kindred soon filled Ireland with the refinement of a luxurious civilization. From various sources, we learn that in those ancient times, the native dress was costly132 and picturesque133, and the habits and modes of living of the chiefs and kings splendid and Oriental. The high-born and the wealthy wore tunics134 of fine linen135 of immense width, girdled with gold and with flowing sleeves after the Eastern fashion. The fringed cloak, or cuchula, with a hood10, after the Arab mode, was clasped on the shoulders with a golden brooch. Golden circlets, of beautiful and classic form, confined their long, flowing hair, and, crowned with their diadems136, the chiefs sat at the banquet, or went forth to war. Sandals upon the feet, and bracelets137 and signet rings, of rich and curious workmanship, completed the costume. The ladies wore the silken robes and flowing veils of Persia, or rolls of linen wound round the head like the Egyptian Isis, the hair curiously138 plaited down the back and fastened with gold or silver bodkins, while the neck and arms were profusely139 covered with jewels.13
For successive centuries, this race, half Tyrian and half Greek, held undisputed possession of Ireland, maintaining, it is said, constant intercourse with the parent state, and, when Tyre fell, commercial relations were continued with Carthage. Communication between such distant lands was nothing to Phœnician enterprise. Phœnicians in the service of an Egyptian king had sailed round Africa and doubled the Cape96 of Good Hope two thousand years before the Portuguese140. The same people built the navy of King Solomon a thousand years before Christ; and led the fleet to India for the gold necessary for the Temple.302 They cast the brazen141 vessels142 for the altar, employing for the purpose the tin which their merchants must have brought from the British Isles. Thus, to use the words of Humboldt, there can be no doubt that three thousand years ago “the Tyrian flag waved from Britain to the Indian Ocean.”
A king of the race, long before Romulus founded Rome, erected a college at Tara, where the Druids taught the wisdom of Egypt, the mysteries of Samothrace, and the religion of Tyre. Then it was that Ireland was known as Innis-Alga—the Holy Island—held sacred by the Tyrian mariners143 as the “Temple of the Setting Sun:” the last limit of Europe, from whence they could watch his descent into the mysterious western ocean.
But onward still came the waves of human life, unceasing, unresting. Driven forth from Carthage, Spain, and Gaul, the ancient race fled to the limits of the coast, then surged back, fought and refought the battle, conquering and yielding by turns, till at length the Syrian and the Latin elements blended into a new compound, which laid the foundation of modern Europe. But some tribes, disdaining144 such a union, fled from Spain to Ireland, and thus a new race, but of the old kindred, was flung on our shores by destiny.
The leaders, brave, warlike, and of royal blood, speedily assumed kingly sway, and all the subsequent monarchs146 of Ireland, the O’Briens, the O’Connors, the O’Neils, the O’Donnels, and other noble races, claim descent from them; and very proud, even to this day, are the families amongst the Irish who can trace back their pedigree to these princely Spaniards.
We have spoken hitherto but of the maritime colonists—that portion of the primal race who launched their ships on the Mediterranean to found colonies and kingdoms along its shores; then passing out through the ocean straits, the human tides surged upon the western limits of Europe, till the last wave found a rest on the green sward of ancient Erin. The habits of these first colonists were agricultural, commercial, and unwarlike; and ancient historians have left us a record of their temperament147; volatile148 and fickle149; passionate in joy and grief, with quick vivid natures prone150 to sudden excesses; religious and superstitious151; a small, dark-eyed race, lithe152 of limb and light of heart; the eternal children of humanity.
For illustrations we need not here refer to the Royal Irish Academy, for as they looked and lived three thousand years ago, they may be seen to this day in the mountains of Connemara and Kerry.
While this race travelled westward to the ocean by the great southern sea, other families of the Japhetian tribes were pressing westward also, but by the great northern plains. From Western India, by the Caspian and the Caucasus, past the shores of the303 Euxine, and still westward along the great rivers of Central Europe, up to the rude coasts of the Baltic, could be tracked “the westward marches of the unknown crowded nations,” carrying with them fragments of the early Japhetian wisdom, and memories of the ancient primal tongue brought from the far East; but, as they removed further from the great lines of human intercourse, and were subjected to the influence of rigorous climates and nomadic153 habits, gradually becoming a rude, fierce people of warriors154 and hunters, predatory and cruel, living by the chase, warring with the wild wolves for their prey155, and with each other for the best pasture-grounds. Driven by the severity of the seasons to perpetual migration, they built no cities and raised no monuments, save the sepulchral156 mound, which can be traced from Tartary to the German Ocean.
Without the civilizing157 aids of commerce or literature, their language degenerated158 into barbarous dialects; their clothing was the skin of wild beasts; their religion, confused relics159 of ancient creeds160, contributed by the wandering colonies of Egypt, Media, Greece, and Tyre, which occasionally blended with the Scythian hordes161, wherein Isis, Mercury, and Hercules, the symbols of wisdom, eloquence162, and courage, were the objects worshipped, though deteriorated163 by savage164 and sanguinary rites165, whose sacrifices were human victims, and whose best votary166 was he who had slain167 most men.
From long wandering through the gloomy regions where the sun is darkened by perpetual clouds, they called themselves the “Children of the Night,” and looked on her as the primal mother of all things.
Their pastimes symbolized168 the fierce daring of their lives. At their banquets they quaffed169 mead170 from the skulls171 of the slain, and chanted war-songs to the music of their clashing bucklers, while their dances were amid the points of their unsheathed swords.
From the influence of climate, and from constant intermarriage amongst themselves, certain physical and mental types became permanently172 fixed173, and the gigantic frame, the fair hair and “stern blue eyes”14 of the Scythian tribes, along with their bold, free, warlike, independent spirit, are still the marked characteristic of their descendants. For amidst these rude races of lion-hearted men, who cleared the forests of Central Europe for future empires, there were great and noble virtues born of their peculiar174 mode of life: a love of freedom, a lofty sense of individual dignity, bold defiance175 of tyranny, a fortitude176 and courage that rose to heroism—the spirit that brooks177 no fetter178 either on the mind or frame. We see that such men were destined179 for world-rulers. To them Europe is indebted for her free political systems; the chivalry304 that ennobled warfare180 and elevated women, and the religious reformation that freed Christianity from superstition4. Every charter of human freedom dates from the Scythian forests.
The great northern concourse of fierce, wild tribes, comprehended originally under the name of Scythians, or Wanderers, having spread themselves over the north to the very kingdom of the Frost-Giants, amidst frozen seas and drifting glaciers181, turned southward, tempted182 by softer climes and richer lands, and under the names of Goth, Vandal, Frank, and Norman, devastating183 tribes of the Scythian warriors poured their rude masses upon the early and refined civilization of the Mediterranean nations, conquering wherever they appeared and holding bravely whatever they conquered.
The Roman empire trembled and vanished before the terrible might of the long-haired Goths. They sacked Rome and threatened Constantinople: Africa, Italy, Spain, France, and Germany yielded to the barbaric power. Before the fifth century the Scythians had conquered the world, and every kingdom in Europe is ruled by them to this hour.
How strangely contrasted the destinies of the two great Japhetian races! What vicissitudes184 of fortune! The refined, lettered, oriental light-bringers to Europe—the founders185 of all kingdoms, the first teachers of all knowledge, the race that peopled Tyre, Carthage, Greece, Italy, Spain, and Gaul, degraded, humbled187, and almost annihilated; the last poor remnant of them crushed up in the remote fastnesses of the hills along the coast-line of Europe; step by step driven backwards188 to the Atlantic, as the red man of America had been driven to the Pacific, till, over the whole earth they can be found nowhere as a nation, save only in Ireland, while the rude, fierce Scandinavian hordes have risen up to be the mightiest189 of the earth. Greece subdued190 Asia, and Rome subdued Greece, but Scythia conquered Rome! The children of night and of the dark forests rule the kingdoms that rule the world.
They have given language and laws to modern empires, and at the present day are at the head of all that is most powerful, most thoughtful, most enterprising, and most learned throughout the entire globe.
The story of how the Scythian first came to the British Islands, has been preserved in the Welsh annals, which date back three thousand years. The legend runs that their ancestors, the nation of the Cimbri, wandered long over Europe, forgetting God’s name, and the early wisdom. At length they crossed “the hazy191 sea” (the German Ocean) from the country of the pools (Belgium) and came to Britain, the sea-girt land, called by them Cambria,15305 or, first mother; and they were the first who trod the soil of Britain. There their poets and bards recovered the lost name of God, the sacred I.A.O., and the primal letters their forefathers192 had known, called the ten signs. And ever since they have possessed193 religion and literature, though the bards kept the signs secret for many ages, so that all learning might be limited to themselves.
The paramount194 monarch145 of the Cimbri nation reigned195 at London, and a state of poetry and peace long continued, till the Dragon-Aliens appeared on their coasts. The ancient Cimbri retreated into Wales, where they have ever since remained. The Picts seized on Caledonia, and the Saxons on England, until, in their turn, they were conquered by the Danes.
Ireland at that period was the most learned and powerful island of the West. Through all changes of European dynasties she retained her independence. From the Milesian to the Norman, no conqueror had trod her soil.16
Meanwhile England, who never yet successfully resisted an invading enemy, passed under many a foreign yoke197. For five hundred years the Romans held her as a province to supply their legions with recruits, and the abject198 submission199 of the natives called forth the bitter sarcasm200, that “the good of his country was the only cause in which a Briton had forgot to die.”
The acquisition of Ireland was eagerly coveted201 by the imperial race, but though Agricola boasted he would conquer it with a single legion, and even went so far towards the completion of his design as to line all the opposite coasts of Wales with his troops, yet no Roman soldier ever set foot on Irish soil.
Rome had enough of work on hand just then, for Alaric the Goth is at her gates, and Attila, the scourge202 of God, is ravaging203 her fairest provinces. The imperial mother of Colonies can no longer hold her own or aid her children; England is abandoned to her fate, and the Irish from the west, the Scythian from the north, the Saxon from the east, assault, and desolate204, and despoil205 her.
The Scythian Picts pour down on her cities, “killing, burning, and destroying.” The Irish land in swarms206 from their corrahs, and “with fiery207 outrage208 and cruelty, carry, harry209, and make havoc210 of all.” Thus bandied between two insolent211 enemies, the English sent ambassadors to Rome “with their garments rent, and sand upon their heads,” bearing that most mournful appeal of an humbled people—“to Ætius, thrice Consul212: the groans213 of the Britons. The barbarians drive us to the sea, the sea drives us back to the barbarians; thus, between two kinds of death, we are either slaughtered214 or drowned.”
306
But no help comes, for Rome herself is devastated216 by Hun and Vandal, and the empire is falling like a shattered world.
Thus England passed helplessly under the Saxon yoke, and so rested some hundred years; Ireland the while remaining as free from Saxon thrall217 as she had been from Roman rule.
Through all these centuries the current of human life still flowed westward from the unknown mysterious regions of Central Asia.
It was about the close of the eighth century, when the Scythian Charlemagne was crowned Emperor of Rome in the city of the Cæsars, that the fierce children of Thor and Odin, after having swept across Northern Europe to the limit of the land, flung their fortunes to the stormy seas, and began to earn that terrible yet romantic renown218 with which history and saga219 have invested the deeds of the Scandinavian sea kings. The raven220 on their black banner was the dreaded221 symbol of havoc and devastation223 all along the sea coasts and islands of the Atlantic. In England, Saxon rule fell helplessly before the power of the new invaders225, as wave after wave of the ruthless sea-ravagers dashed upon the sluggish226 masses of the heptarchy.
After two hundred years of protracted227 agony and strife228, Saxon sway was annihilated for ever, and Canute the Dane reigned in England.
Meanwhile, the well-appointed fleets of Norsemen and Danes were prowling about the cost of Ireland, trying to obtain a footing on her yet unconquered soil.
When these pagan pirates first appeared on our shores, Ireland had enjoyed a Christian civilization of four centuries. The light of the true faith had been there long before it shone upon rude Saxon England. The Irish of that early era excelled in music, poetry, and many arts. They had a literature, colleges for the learned, an organized and independent hierarchy229, churches and abbeys, whose ruins still attest230 the sense of the beautiful, as well as the piety231 which must have existed in the founders. Their manuscripts, dating from this period, are older than those of any other nation of Northern Europe; their music was distinguished232 by its pathetic beauty, and the ballads233 of their bards emulated234 in force of expression those of ancient Homer. At the time that the Scots were totally ignorant of letters, and that the princes of the heptarchy had to resort to Irish colleges for instruction in the liberal sciences, Ireland held the proud title of the “Island of Saints and Scholars;” and learned men went forth from her shores to evangelize Europe.
One Irish priest founded an abbey at Iona; another was the friend and counsellor of Charlemagne; a third, of equal celebrity235, founded monasteries236 both in France and England. The Irish of eleven centuries ago were the apostles of Europe!
The Norsemen, or “white strangers,” as the Irish called them307 who swept like a hurricane over this early civilization, were fierce pagans, who respected neither God nor man. Not till three centuries after their arrival in Ireland were they converted to the Christian faith. They pillaged237 towns, burned churches, destroyed manuscripts of the past which no future can restore, plundered239 abbeys of all that learning, sanctity and civilization had accumulated of the sacred, the costly, and the beautiful, and gave the Irish nothing in return but lessons of their own barbarous ferocity. Then it was we hear how Irish mothers gave their infants food on the point of their father’s sword, and at the baptism left the right arms of their babes unchristened that they might strike the more relentlessly240. The Syrian and the Scythian, the children of the one Japhetian race, met at last in this ultima thule of Europe, after a three thousand years’ divergence241; and even then, though they met with fierce animosity and inextinguishable hatred, yet lingerings of a far-off ancient identity in the language, the traditions, and the superstitions of each, could still be traced in these children of the one mighty father.
Great consternation242 must have been in Ireland when the report spread that a fleet of sixty strange sail was in the Boyne, and that another of equal number was sailing up the Liffey. The foreigners leaped from their ships to conquest. Daring brought success; they sacked, burned, pillaged, murdered; put a captive king to death in his own gyves at their ships; drove the Irish before them from the ocean to the Shannon; till, with roused spirit and gathered force, the confederate kings of Ireland in return drove back the white foreigners from the Shannon to the ocean. But they had gained a footing, and inroads, with plunder238 and devastation, never ceased from that time till the whole eastern sea-border of Ireland was their own. There they established themselves for four centuries, holding their first conquests, but never gaining more, until they were finally expelled by the Normans.
To these red-haired pirates and marauders Dublin owes its existence as a city. The Ath-Cliath of the Irish, though of ancient fame, was but an aggregate243 of huts by the side of the Liffey, which was crossed by a bridge of hurdles244. The kings of Ireland never made it a royal residence, even after Tara was cursed by St. Rodan. Their palaces were in the interior of the island; but no doubt exists that Ath-Cliath, the Eblana of Ptolemy, was a well-known port, the resort of merchantmen from the most ancient times. There were received the Spanish wines, the Syrian silks, the Indian gold, destined for the princes and nobles; and from thence the costly merchandize was transported to the interior.
But Dublin, with its fine plain watered by the Liffey, its noble bay, guarded by the sentinel hills, at once attracted the special308 notice of the bold Vikings. Their chiefs fixed their residence there, and assumed the title of Kings of Dublin, or Kings of the Dark Water, as the word may be translated. They erected a fortress on the very spot where the Norman Castle now rules the city, and, after their conversion245, a cathedral, still standing amongst us, venerable with the memories of eight hundred years.
Their descendants are with us to this day, and many families might trace back their lineage to the Danish leaders, whose names have been preserved in Irish history. Amongst sundry246 of “these great and valiant captains” are named Swanchean, Griffin, Albert Roe, Torbert Duff, Goslyn, Walter English, Awley, King of Denmark, from whom descend113 the Macaulays, made more illustrious by the modern historian of their race than by the ancient pirate king. There are also named Randal O’Himer, Algot, Ottarduff Earl, Fyn Crossagh, Torkill, Fox Wasbagg, Trevan, Baron247 Robert, and others; names interesting, no doubt, to those who can claim them for their ancestry.
The Norsemen having walled and fortified248 Dublin, though including but a mile within its circumference—whereas now the city includes ten—proceeded to fortify249 Dunleary, now Kingstown, in order to secure free passage to their ships. Then, from their stronghold of Dublin, they made incessant250 inroads upon the broad rich plains of the interior. They spread all along Meath, which received its name from them, of “Fingall” (the land of the white stranger); they devastated as far north as Armagh, as far west as the Shannon; Wexford, Waterford, and Limerick became half Danish cities. Everywhere their course was marked by barbaric spoliation. At one time it is noticed that they carried off a “great prey of women”—thus the Romans woo’d their Sabine brides; indeed the accounts in the Irish annals of the shrines251 they burned, the royal graves they plundered, the treasures they pillaged, the ferocities they perpetrated, are as interminable as they are revolting.
When beaten back by the Irish princes they crouched252 within their walled city of Dublin, till an opportunity offered for some fresh exercise of murderous cunning, some act of audacious rapine. Thus the contest was carried on for four centuries between the colonists and the nation; mutual254 hatred ever increasing; the Irish kings of Leinster still claiming the rights of feudal255 lords over the Danes; the Danes resisting every effort made to dislodge them, though they were not unfrequently forced to pay tribute.
Sometimes the Irish kings hired them as mercenaries to assist in the civil wars which raged perennially257 amongst them. Sometimes there were intermarriages between the warring foes258—the daughter of Brian Boro’ wedded259 Sitric, King of the Danes of Dublin. Occasionally the Irish kings got possession of Dublin,309 and ravaged260 and pillaged in return. Once the Danes were driven forth completely from the city, and forced to take refuge upon “Ireland’s Eye,” the lone261 sea rock, since made memorable262 by a tragic263 history. Malachy, King of Meath, besieged264 Dublin for three days and three nights, burned the fortress, and carried off the Danish regalia; hence the allusion265 in Moore’s song to “The Collar of Gold which he won from the proud invader224.” But the most terrible defeat the Danes ever sustained was at Clontarf, when ten thousand men in coats of mail were opposed to King Brian; but “the ten thousand in armour266 were cut in pieces, and three thousand warriors slain besides.” Even the Irish children fought against the invader. The grandchild of King Brian, a youth of fifteen, was found dead with his hand fast bound in the hair of a Dane’s head, whom the child had dragged to the sea.17
Still the Danish colony was not uprooted267, though after this defeat they grew more humble186, kept within their city of Dublin, and paid tribute to the kings of Leinster, and to the paramount monarch of Ireland.
Up to this period, therefore, we see that the Irish race had no relationship whatever with their capital city; they never saw the inside of their metropolis unless they were carried there as prisoners, or that they entered with fire and sword; and, stranger still, during the many centuries of the existence of Dublin as a city, up to the present time, the Irish race have never ruled there, or held possession of the fortress of their capital.
But the time of judgment268 upon the Danes was approaching, though it did not come by Irish hands. As the Saxons in England fell before the Danes, so the Danes had fallen before the Normans. The Normans, a Scythian race likewise, but more beautiful, more brave, more chivalrous269, courtly, and polished, than any race that had preceded them, came triumphant270 from Italy and France to achieve the conquest of England, which yielded almost without a struggle. One great battle, and then no more. William the Norman, or rather the Scythian Frenchman, ascends271 the throne of Alfred. Dane and Saxon fall helplessly beneath his feet, and his tyrannies, his robberies, his confiscations, are submitted to by the subjugated nation without an effort at resistance.
His handful of Norman nobles seized upon the lands, the wealth, the honours, the estates of the kingdom, and retain them to this hour. And justly; so noble a race as the Norman knights274 were310 made for masters. The Saxons sank at once to the level of serfs, of traders and menials, from which they have never risen, leaving England divided into a Norman aristocracy who have all the land, and a Saxon people who have all the toil275; crushed by the final conquerors, they sank to be the sediment276 of the kingdom.
The Irish had a different destiny; for five hundred years they fought the battle for independence with the Normans, nor did their chiefs sink to be the pariahs277 of the kingdom, as the Saxons of England, but retain their princely pretensions278 to this day. The O’Connors, the O’Briens, O’Neils, Kavanaghs, O’Donnels, yield to no family in Europe in pride of blood and ancestral honours; while, by intermarriage with the Norman lords, a race was founded of Norman Irish—perhaps the finest specimens279 of aristocracy that Europe produced—the Geraldines at their head, loving Ireland, and of whom Ireland may be proud.
A hundred years passed by after the Norman conquest of England. Three kings of the Norman race had reigned and died, and still the conquest of Ireland was unattempted; no Norman knight273 had set foot on Irish soil.
The story of their coming begins with just such a domestic drama as Homer had turned into an epic280 two thousand years before. A fair and faithless woman, a king’s daughter, fled from her husband to the arms of a lover. All Ireland is outraged281 at the act. The kings assemble in conclave282 and denounce vengeance283 upon the crowned seducer284, Dermot, King of Leinster.
He leagues with the Danes of Dublin, the abhorred285 of his countrymen, but the only allies he can find in his great need. A battle is fought in which Dermot is defeated, his castle of Ferns is burned, his kingdom is taken from him, and he himself is solemnly deposed286 by the confederate kings, and banished287 beyond the seas. Roderick, King of all Ireland, is the inexorable and supreme288 judge. He restores the guilty wife to her husband; but the husband disdains289 to receive her, and she retires to a convent, where she expiates290 her crime and the ruin of her country by forty years of penance291. The only records of her afterwards are of her good deeds. She built a nunnery at Clonmacnoise; she gave a chalice292 of gold to the altar of Mary, and cloth for nine altars of the Church; and then Dervorgil, the Helen of our Iliad, is heard of no more.
Dermot, her lover, went to England, seeking aid to recover his kingdom of Leinster. In a year he returns with a band of Welsh mercenaries, and marches to Dublin; but is again defeated by the confederate kings, and obliged to pay a hundred ounces of gold to O’Rourke of Breffny, “for the wrong he had done him respecting his wife,” and to give up as hostage to King Roderick his only son. But while parleying with the Irish311 kings, Dermot was secretly soliciting293 English aid, and not unsuccessfully.
Memorable was the year 1170, when the renowned294 Strongbow, Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Pembroke, and his Norman knights, landed at Wexford to aid the banished king; and when Dermot welcomed his illustrious allies, little he thought that by his hand
“The emerald gem295 of the Western world,
Was set in the crown of a stranger.”
The compact with the foreigners was sealed with his son’s blood. No sooner did King Roderick hear of the Norman landing, than he ordered the royal Kavanagh, the hostage of King Dermot, to be put to death; and henceforth a doom59 seemed to be on the male heirs of the line of Dermot, as fatal as that which rested upon the house of Atrides.
Dermot had an only daughter remaining. He offered her in marriage to the Earl of Pembroke, with the whole kingdom of Leinster for her dowry, so as he would help him to his revenge. After a great battle against the Danes, in which the Normans were victorious296, the marriage was celebrated297 at Waterford.
“Sad Eva gazed
All round that bridal field of blood, amazed;
Spoused298 to new fortunes.”18
No record remains to us of the beauty of the bride, or in what language the Norman knight wooed her to his arms; this only we know, that Eva, Queen of Leinster in her own right, and Countess of Pembroke by marriage, can number amongst her descendants the present Queen of England. Of the bridegroom, Cambrensis tells us that he was “ruddy, freckle-faced, grey-eyed, his face feminine, his voice small, his neck little, yet of a high stature299, ready with good words and gentle speeches.”
The same authority describes Dermot from personal observation—“A tall man of stature, of a large and great body, a valiant and bold warrior, and by reason of his continued hallooing his voice was hoarse300. He rather chose to be feared than loved. Rough and generous, hateful unto strangers, he would be against all men and all men against him.”
From Waterford to Dublin was a progress of victory to Dermot and his allies, for they marched only through the Danish settlements of which Dermot was feudal lord. At Dublin King Roderick opposed them with an army. Three days the battle raged; then the Danes of Dublin, fearing Dermot’s wrath301,312 opened their gates, and offered him gold and silver in abundance if he would spare their lives; but, heedless of treaties, the Norman knights rushed in, slew302 the Danes in their own fortress, drove the rest to the sea; and thus ended the Danish dynasty of four centuries. Never more did they own a foot of ground throughout the length or breadth of the land. An Irish army, aided by Norman skill, had effected their complete extinction303. The Kingdom of Leinster was regained304 for Dermot, and he and his allies placed a garrison306 in Dublin. This was the last triumph of the ancient race. The kingdom was lost even at the moment it seemed regained. That handful of Scythian warriors, scarcely visible amid Dermot’s great Irish army, are destined to place the yoke upon the neck of ancient Ireland.
The brave Roderick gathered together another army, and, with sixty thousand men, laid siege to Dublin, O’Rourke of Breffny aiding him. They were repulsed307. O’Rourke was taken prisoner, and hanged with his head downwards308, then beheaded and the head stuck on one of the centre gates of the castle, “a spectacle of intense pity to the Irish;” and Roderick retired309 into Connaught to recruit more forces.
There is something heroic and self-devoted in the efforts which, for eighteen years, were made by Roderick against the Norman power. Brave, learned, just, and enlightened beyond his age, he alone of all the Irish princes saw the direful tendency of the Norman inroad. All the records of his reign prove that he was a wise and powerful monarch. He had a fleet on the Shannon, the like of which had never been seen before. He built a royal residence in Connaught, the ruins of which are still existing to attest its former magnificence, so far beyond all structures of the period, that it was known in Ireland as the beautiful house. He founded a chair of literature at Armagh, and left an endowment in perpetuity, to maintain it for the instruction of the youth of Ireland and Scotland. A great warrior, and a fervent310 patriot52, his first effort, when he obtained the crown, was to humble the Danish power. Dublin was forced to pay him tribute, and he was inaugurated there with a grandeur and luxury unknown before. When Dermot outraged morality, he deposed and banished him. When Dermot further sinned, and traitorously311 brought over the foreigner, Roderick, with stern justice, avenged312 the father’s treason by the son’s life. His own son, the heir of his kingdom, leagued with the Normans, and was found fighting in their ranks. Roderick, like a second Brutus, unpitying, yet heroically just, when the youth was brought a prisoner before him, himself ordered his eyes to be put out. His second son also turned traitor77, and covenanted314 with the Normans to deprive his father of the kingdom. Then Roderick, surrounded by foreign foes and domestic treachery, quitted Connaught, and went through the313 provinces of Ireland, seeking to stir up a spirit as heroic as his own in the hearts of his countrymen. Soon after his unworthy son was killed in some broil316, and Roderick resumed the kingly functions; but while all the other Irish princes took the oath of fealty317 to King Henry, he kept aloof318 beyond the Shannon, equally disdaining treachery or submission. His last son, the only one worthy315 of him, being defeated in a battle by the Normans, slew himself in despair.
The male line of his house was now extinct; the independence of his country was threatened; Norman power was growing strong in the land, and his continued efforts for eighteen years to arouse the Irish princes to a sense of their danger was unavailing. Wearied, disgusted, heartbroken, it may be, he voluntarily laid down the sceptre and the crown, and retired to the monastery319 of Cong, where he became a monk320, and thus, in penance and seclusion321, passed ten years—the weary ending of a fated life.
He died there, twenty-eight years after the Norman invasion, “after exemplary penance, victorious over the world and the devil;” and the chroniclers record his title upon his grave where he is laid—
“Roderick O’Connor,
King of all Ireland, both of the Irish and English.”
Seven centuries have passed since then, yet even now, which of us could enter the beautiful ruins of that ancient abbey, wander through the arched aisles323 tapestried by ivy324, or tread the lonely silent chapel325, once vocal326 with prayer and praise, without sad thoughts of sympathy for the fate of the last monarch of Ireland, and perchance grave thoughts likewise over the destiny of a people who, on that grave of native monarchy327, independence, and nationality, have as yet written no Resurgam.
Exactly ten months after the Normans took possession of Dublin, King Dermot, “by whom a trembling sod was made of all Ireland, died of an insufferable and unknown disease—for he became putrid328 while living—without a will, without penance, without the body of Christ, without unction, as his evil deeds deserved.”
Immediately the Earl of Pembroke assumed the title of King of Leinster in right of his wife Eva. Whereupon Henry of England grew alarmed at the independence of his nobility, and hastened over to assert his claims as lord paramount. To his remonstrances329 Strongbow answered, “What I won was with the sword; what was given me I give you.” An agreement was then made by which Strongbow retained Dublin, while Henry appointed what nobles he chose over the other provinces of Leinster.
When the first Norman monarch landed amongst us, the memorable 18th day of October, 1172, no resistance was offered by any party; no battle was fought. The Irish chiefs were so elated314 at the Danish overthrow330, that they even volunteered oaths of fealty to the foreign prince who had been in some sort their deliverer. Calmly, as in a state pageant331, Henry proceeded from Wexford to Dublin; his route lay only through the conquered Danish possessions, now the property of the Countess Eva; there was no fear therefore of opposition332. On reaching the city, “he caused a royal palace to be built, very curiously contrived333 of smooth wattels, after the manner of the country, and there, with the kings and princes of Ireland, did keep Christmas with great solemnity,” on the very spot where now stands St. Andrew’s Church.
King Henry remained six months in Ireland, the longest period which a foreign monarch has ever passed amongst us, and during that time he never thought of fighting a battle with the Irish. As yet, the whole result of Norman victories was the downfall of the Danes, in which object the Irish had gladly assisted. Strongbow and Eva reigned peacefully in our capital. Henry placed governors over the other Danish cities, and in order that Dublin, from which the Danes had been expelled, might be repeopled, he made a present of our fair city to the good people of Bristol.
Accordingly a colony from that town, famed for deficiency in personal attractions, came over and settled here; but thirty years after, the Irish, whose instincts of beauty were no doubt offended by the rising generation of Bristolians, poured down from the Wicklow hills upon the ill-favoured colony, and made a quick ending of them by a general massacre334.
In a fit of penitence335, also, for the murdered À Becket, Henry founded the Abbey of Thomas Court, from which Thomas Street derives336 its name, and then the excommunicated king quitted Ireland, leaving it unchanged, save that Henry the Norman held the possessions of Torkil the Dane, and Dublin, from a Danish, had become a Norman city. Five hundred years more had to elapse before English jurisdiction337 extended beyond the ancient Danish pale, and a Cromwell or a William of Nassau was needed for the final conquest of Ireland, as well as for the redemption of England.
Nothing can be more absurd than to talk of a Saxon conquest of Ireland. The Saxons, an ignorant, rude, inferior race, could not even maintain their ascendency in England. They fell before the superior power, intelligence, and ability of the Norman, and the provinces of Ireland that fell to the first Norman nobles were in reality not gained by battles, but by the intermarriage of Norman lords with the daughters of Irish kings. Hence it was that in right of their wives the Norman nobles early set up claims independent of the English crown, and the hereditary rights, being transmitted through each generation, were perpetually tempting338 the Norman aristocracy into rebellion. English supremacy339 was as uneasily borne by the De Lacys, the Geraldines, the Butlers, and others315 of the Norman stock, as by the O’Connors, the Kavanaghs, the O’Neils, or the O’Briens. The great Richard de Burgho married Odierna, grand-daughter of Cathal Crovdearg, king of Connaught. Hence the De Burghos assumed the title of Lords of Connaught.
King Roderick, as we have said, left no male issue. His kingdom descended340 to his daughter, who married the Norman knight, Hugo de Lacy. Immediately De Lacy set up a claim as independent prince in right of his wife, assumed legal state, took the title of King of Meath, and appeared in public with a golden crown upon his head, and so early as twenty-five years after the invasion, John de Courcy and the son of this De Lacy marched against the English of Leinster and Munster. Many a romance could be woven of the destiny and vicissitudes of this great race, half Irish, half Norman; independent princes by the one side, and English subjects by the other.
The great Earl of Pembroke lived but a few years after his capture of Dublin. The Irish legends say that St. Bridget killed him. However, he and Eva had no male heir, and only one daughter, named Isabel, after the Earl’s mother, who was also aunt to the reigning341 king of Scotland.
This young girl was sole heiress of Leinster and of her father’s Welsh estates. Richard Cœur de Lion took her to his court at London, and she became his ward79. In due time she married William Marshall, called the great Earl, hereditary Earl Marshal of England, and Earl of Pembroke and Leinster, in right of his wife. High in office and favour with the king, we read that he carried the sword of state before Richard at his coronation, and as a monument of his piety, he left Tintern Abbey, in the County Wexford, erected by him on his wife’s property.
Isabel and Earl William had five sons and five daughters. The five sons, William, Walter, Gilbert, Anselm, and Richard (Isabel called no son of hers after the royal traitor Dermot, her grandfather) inherited the title in succession, and all died childless. We have said there was a doom upon Dermot’s male posterity343.
The inheritance was then divided between the five daughters, each of whom received a province for a dower. Carlow, Kilkenny, the Queen’s County, Wexford, and Kildare were the five portions. Maud, the eldest344, married the Earl of Norfolk, who became Earl Marshal of England in right of his wife.
Isabel, the second, married the Earl of Gloucester, and her granddaughter, Isabel also, was mother to the great Robert Bruce, who was therefore great-great-great-grandson of Eva and Strongbow. Eva, the third daughter, married the Lord de Breos, and from a daughter of hers, named Eva likewise, descended Edward the Fourth, King of England, through whose granddaughter Margaret Queen of Scotland, daughter of Henry the316 Seventh, the present reigning family of England claim their right to the throne. Through two lines, therefore, our Most Gracious Majesty345 can trace back her pedigree to Eva the Irish princess.
Joan, whose portions were Wexford, married Lord Valentia, half-brother to King Henry the Third, and the male line failing, the inheritance was divided between two daughters, from one of whom the Talbots, Earls of Shrewsbury, inherit their Wexford estates.
From Sybil, the youngest, who married the Earl of Ferrars and Derby, descended the Earls of Winchester, the Lords Mortimer, and other noble races. She had seven daughters, who all married Norman lords, so that scarcely a family could be named of the high and ancient English nobility, whose wealth has not been increased by the estates of Eva, the daughter of King Dermot; and thus it came to pass that Leinster fell by marriage and inheritance, not by conquest, into the possession of the great Norman families, who, of course, acknowledged the King of England as their sovereign; and the English monarchs assumed thenceforth the title of Lords of Ireland—a claim which they afterwards enforced over the whole country.
The destiny of the descendants of De Lacy and King Roderick’s daughter was equally remarkable346. They had two sons, Hugh and Walter, who, before they were twenty-one, threw off English allegiance, and set up as independent princes. To avoid the wrath of King John they fled to France, and took refuge in an abbey, where, disguised as menials, the two young noblemen found employment in garden-digging, preparing mud and bricks, and similar work. By some chance the abbot suspected the disguise, and finally detected the princes in the supposed peasants. He used his knowledge of their secret to obtain their pardon from King John, and Hugh De Lacy was created Earl of Ulster. He left an only daughter, his sole heir. She married a De Burgho, who, in right of his wife, became Earl of Ulster, and from them descended Ellen, wife of Robert Bruce, King of Scotland. It is singular that the mother of Robert Bruce should have been descended from Eva, and his wife from King Roderick’s daughter. The granddaughter of Robert Bruce, the Princess Margery, married the Lord High Steward347 of Scotland, and through her the Stuarts claimed the crown. From thence it is easy to trace how the royal blood of the three kingdoms meet in the reigning family of England. Another descendant of the Earls of Ulster (an only daughter likewise) married Lionel, Duke of Clarence, son of Edward the Third, who, in the right of his wife, became Earl of Ulster and Lord of Connaught, and these titles finally merged348 in the English crown in the person of Edward the Fourth. From all these genealogies349 one fact may be clearly deduced, that the present representative of the royal Irish races of Eva and Roderick,317 and the lineal heiress of their rights, is Her Majesty Queen Victoria.
The proud and handsome race of Norman Irish, that claimed descent from these intermarriages, were the nobles, of whom it was said, “They were more Irish than the Irish themselves.” The disposition350 to become independent of England was constantly manifested in them. They publicly asserted their rights, renounced351 the English dress and language, and adopted Irish names. Thus Sir Ulick Burke, ancestor of Lord Clanricarde, became MacWilliam Oughter (or upper), and Sir Edmond Albanagh, progenitor353 of the Earl of Mayo, became MacWilliam Eighter (or lower). Richard, son of the Earl of Norfolk, and grandson of Eva, set up a claim to be independent King of Leinster, and was slain by the English. We have seen that Walter and Hugh De Lacy, grandsons of Roderick, were in open rebellion against King John. A hundred years later, two of the same race, named Walter and Hugh likewise, were proclaimed traitors for aiding the army of Robert Bruce, who claimed the crown of Ireland for his brother Edward, and the two De Lacys were found dead by the side of Edward Bruce at the great battle of Dundalk, where the Scotch forces were overthrown354.
Once, even the Geraldines and the Fitzmaurices took prisoner the Justiciary of Dublin, as the Lord-Lieutenant of that day was named. Meanwhile the Irish princes of the West retained their independence; sometimes at feud256, sometimes in amity355 with the English of the Eastern coast. We read that “the English of Dublin invited Hugh, King of Connaught, to a conference, and began to deal treacherously356 with him; but William Mareschall, his friend, coming in with his forces, rescued him, in despite of the English, from the middle of the Court, and escorted him to Connaught.” Both races were equally averse357 to the domination of the English crown. The Geraldines and Butlers, the De Burghos and De Lacys, were as intractable as the O’Connors of Connaught, or the O’Neils of Tyrone; even more so. The Great O’Neil submitted to Elizabeth; but two hundred years later the Geraldines had still to add the name of another martyr25 for liberty to the roll of their illustrious ancestors.
Frequently the Normans fought amongst themselves as fiercely as if opposed to the Irish. The Earl of Ulster, a De Burgho, the same who is recorded to have given the first entertainment at Dublin Castle, took his kinsman358, Walter Burke, prisoner, and had him starved to death in his own castle; a tragedy which might have been made as memorable as that of Ugolino in the Torre del Fame, had there been a Dante in Ireland to record it. For this act the kinsmen359 of Walter Burke murdered the Earl of Ulster on the Lord’s Day, as he was kneeling at his prayers, and cleft360 his head in two with a sword.
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It was unfortunate for Ireland that her Irish princes were so unconquerable, and that her Norman lords should have caught the infection of resistance to the crown. Eight hundred years ago the Saxons of England peaceably settled down with the Normans to form one nation, with interests and objects identical.
The Norman conquerors, better fitted, perhaps, for rulers than any other existing in Europe, established at once a strong, vigorous government in England. The Kings, as individuals, may have been weak or tyrannous, but there was a unity253 of purpose, a sense of justice, and a vigour361 of will existing in the ruling class that brought the ruled speedily under the order and discipline of laws. Not a century and a half had elapsed from the Conquest before Magna Charta and representation by Parliament secured the liberty of the people against the caprices of kings; and the Norman temperament which united in a singular degree the instincts of loyalty362 with the love of freedom, became the hereditary national characteristic of Englishmen. But Ireland never, at any time, comprehended the word nationality. From of old it was broken up into fragments, ruled by chiefs whose principal aim was mutual destruction. There was no unity, therefore no strength.
If, at the time of the Norman invasion, a king of the race had settled here as in England, the Irish would gradually have become a nation under one ruler, in place of being an aggregate of warring tribes; but for want of this chief corner-stone the Norman nobles themselves became but isolated363 chiefs—new petty kings added to the old—each for himself, none for the country. It was contrary to all natural laws that the proud Irish princes, with the traditions of their race going back two thousand years, should at once serve with love and loyalty a foreign king whose face they never saw and from whom they derived364 no benefits. And thus it was that five hundred years elapsed, from Henry Plantagenet to William of Nassau, before Ireland was finally adjusted in her subordinate position to the English crown.
Meanwhile the Danish Dublin was fast rising into importance as the Norman city, the capital of the English pale. Within that circle the English laws, language, manners and religion were implicitly366 adopted; without, there was a fierce, warlike, powerful people, the ancient lords of the soil, but with them the citizens of Dublin had no affinity367; and the object of the English rulers was to keep the two races as distinct as possible. Amongst other enactments368 tending to obliterate369 any feeling of kindred which might exist, the inhabitants of the pale were ordered to adopt English surnames, derived from everything which by the second commandment we are forbidden to worship. Hence arose the tribes of fishes—cod, haddock, plaice, salmon370, gurnet, gudgeon, &c.; and of birds—crow, sparrow, swan, pigeon; and of trades,319 as carpenter, smith, baker371, mason; and of colours—the blacks, whites, browns, and greens, which in Dublin so copiously372 replace the grand old historic names of the provinces. Determined373 also on annihilating374 the picturesque, at least in the individual, lest the outward symbol might be taken for an inward affinity, the long flowing hair and graceful375 mantle, after the Irish fashion, were forbidden to be worn within the pale.
Neither was the Irish language tolerated within the English jurisdiction, for which Holingshed gives good reason, after this fashion—“And here,” he says, “some snappish carpers will snuffingly snib me for debasing the Irish language, but my short discourse376 tendeth only to this drift, that it is not expedient377 that the Irish tongue should be so universally gagled in the English pale; for where the country is subdued, there the inhabitants should be ruled by the same laws that the conqueror is governed, wear the same fashion of attire378 with which the victor is vested, and speak the same language which the victor parleth; and if any of these lack, doubtless the conquest limpeth.” The English tongue, however, seems to have been held in utter contempt and scorn by the Irish allies of the pale. After the submission of the Great O’Neil, the last who held the title of king in Ireland, which he exchanged for that of Earl of Tyrone, as a mark and seal of his allegiance to Queen Elizabeth, “One demanded merrilie,” says Holingshed, “why O’Neil would not frame himself to speak English? ‘What,’ quoth the other in a rage, ‘thinkest thou it standeth with O’Neil his honour to writhe379 his mouth in clattering380 English.’”
As regarded religion, the English commanded the most implicit365 obedience381 to the Pope, under as strict and severe penalties as, five hundred years later, they enacted382 against those who acknowledged his authority. One provision of the ancient oath imposed upon the subjugated Irish was—“You acknowledge yourself to be of the Mother Church of Rome, now professed383 by all Christians384.” But, that the Irish of that era little heeded385 papal or priestly ordinances386 may be inferred from the fact that, during the wars of Edward Bruce, the English complained that their Irish auxiliaries387 were more exhausting than the Scots, as they ate meat all the time of Lent; and it is recorded, that in 1133, when the Leinster Irish rose against the English, “they set fire to everything, even the churches, and burned the church of Dunleary, with eighty persons in it, and even when the priest in his sacred vestments, and carrying the Host in his hands, tried to get out, they drove him back with their spears and burned him. For this they were excommunicated by a Papal Bull, and the country was put under an interdict388. But they despised these things, and again wasted the county of Wexford.”19
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The energetic and organizing spirit of the Normans was, however, evidenced by better deeds than those we have named. Courts of law were established in Dublin, a mayor and corporation instituted, and Parliaments were convened389 after the English fashion. Within fifty years after the Norman settlement, the lordly pile of Dublin Castle rose upon the site of the old Danish fortress, built, indeed, to overawe the Irish, as William the Conqueror built the Tower of London to overawe the English; yet, by Norman hands, the first regal residence was given to our metropolis. St. Patrick’s Cathedral was next elected by the colonists, and gradually our fair city rose into beauty and importance through Norman wealth and Norman skill. From henceforth, the whole interest of Irish history centres in the chief city of the pale, and the history of Dublin becomes the history of English rule in Ireland. For centuries its position was that of a besieged city in the midst of a hostile country; for centuries it resisted the whole force of the native race; and finally triumphantly390 crushed, annihilated, and revenged every effort made for Irish independence.
In truth, Dublin is a right royal city, and never fails in reverential respect towards her English mother.
Many great names are associated with the attempt to write a history of Dublin. The work in all ages was laborious391; there were no printed books to consult, and the records of Ireland, as Hooker complains three hundred years ago, “were verie slenderlie and disorderlie kept.” Whitelaw’s work, though it employed two editors ten hours a day for ten years, yet goes no farther than a description of the public buildings; but the object of Mr. Gilbert’s history is distinct from all that precedes it. It is from the decaying streets and houses that he disentombs great memories, great fragments of past life. It is not a mere record of Ionic pillars, Corinthian capitals, or Doric pediments he gives us. Whitelaw has supplied whole catalogues of these; but records of the human life, that has throbbed392 through the ancient dwellings393 of our city century after century; of the vicissitudes of families, to be read in their ruined mansions394; of the vast political events which in some room, in some house, on some particular night, branded the stigmata deeper on the country; or the tragedies of great hopes crushed, young blood shed, victims hopelessly sacrificed, which have made some street, some house, some chamber117, for ever sacred.
The labours of such an undertaking395 are manifest; yet none can appreciate them fully196 who has not known what it is to spend days, weeks, months buried in decaying parchments, endless pipe-rolls, worm-eaten records, dusty deeds and leases, excavating396 some fact, or searching for some link necessary for the completion of a tale, or the elucidation397 of a truth.
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Mr. Gilbert tells us that twelve hundred statutes398 and enactments of the Anglo-Irish Parliament still remain unpublished. From these and such-like decayed and decaying manuscripts, ancient records which have become almost hieroglyphics399 to the present age, he has gathered the life-history of an ancient city; he has made the stones to speak, and evoked400 the shadows of the past to fill up the outline of a great historical picture.
Fifty, even twenty years hence, the production of such a work would be impossible; the ancient records will probably have perished; the ancient houses, round which the curious may yet gather, will have fallen to the ground; and the ancient race, who cherished in their hearts the legends of the past with the fidelity401 of priests, and the fervour of bards, will have almost passed away.
Dublin is fortunate, therefore, in finding a historian endowed with the ability, the energetic literary industry, the untiring spirit of research, and the vast amount of antiquarian knowledge necessary for the production of so valuable a work, before records perish, mansions fall, or races vanish.
In a history illustrated402 by human lives and deeds, and localized in the weird403 old streets, once the proudest, now the meanest of our city, many a family will find an ancestral shadow starting suddenly to light, trailing long memories with it of departed fashion, grandeur, and magnificence.
Few amongst us who tread the Dublin of the present in all its beauty, think of the Dublin of the past in all its contrasted insignificance404. True, the eternal features are the same; the landscape setting of the city is coeval405 with creation. Tyrian, Dane, and Norman have looked as we look, and with hearts as responsive to Nature’s loveliness, upon the emerald plains, the winding406 rivers, the hills draperied in violet and gold, the mountain gorges407, thunder-riven, half veiled by the foam408 of the waterfall, and the eternal ocean encircling all; scenes where God said a city should arise, and the mountain and the ocean are still, as of old, the magnificent heritage of beauty conferred on our metropolis.
But the early races, whether from southern sea or northern plain, did little to aid the beauty of nature with the products of human intellect. Dublin, under the Danish rule, consisted only of a fortress, a church, and one rude street. Under the rule of the Normans, those great civilizers of the western world, those grand energetic organizers, temple and tower builders, it rose gradually into a beautiful capital, the chief city of Ireland, the second city of the empire. At first the rudimental metropolis gathered round the castle, as nebulæ round a central sun, and from this point it radiated westward and southward; the O’Briens on the south, the O’Connors on the west, the O’Neils on the north, perpetually hovering409 on the borders, but never able to regain305 the city, never able to dislodge the brave Norman garrison who had322 planted their banners on the castle walls. In that castle, during the seven hundred years of its existence, no Irishman of the old race has ever held rule for a single hour.
And what a history it has of tragedies and splendours; crowned and discrowned monarchs flit across the scene, and tragic destinies, likewise, may be recorded of many a viceroy! Piers410 Gravestone, Lord-Lieutenant of King Edward, murdered; Roger Mortimer—“The Gentle Mortimer”—hanged at Tyburn; the Lord Deputy of King Richard II. murdered by the O’Briens; whereupon the King came over to avenge313 his death, just a year before he himself was so ruthlessly murdered at Pomfret Castle. Two viceroys died of the plague; how many more were plagued to death, history leaves unrecorded; one was beheaded at Drogheda; three were beheaded on Tower Hill. Amongst the names of illustrious Dublin rulers may be found those of Prince John, the boy Deputy of thirteen; Prince Lionel, son of Edward III., who claimed Clare in right of his wife, and assumed the title of Clarence from having conquered it from the O’Briens.
The great Oliver Cromwell was the Lord-Lieutenant of the Parliament, and he in turn appointed his son Henry to succeed him. Dire65 are the memories connected with Cromwell’s reign here, both to his own party and to Ireland. Ireton died of the plague after the siege of Limerick; General Jones died of the plague after the surrender of Dungarvon; a thousand of Cromwell’s men died of the plague before Waterford. The climate, in its effect upon English constitutions, seems to be the great Nemesis411 of Ireland’s wrongs.
Strange scenes, dark, secret, and cruel, have been enacted in that gloomy pile. No one has told the full story yet. It will be a Ratcliffe romance of dungeons412 and treacheries, of swift death or slow murder. God and St. Mary were invoked413 in vain for the luckless Irish prince or chieftain that was caught in that Norman stronghold; but that was in the old time—long, long ago. Now the castle courts are crowded only with loyal and courtly crowds, gathered to pay homage414 to the illustrious successor of a hundred viceroys.
The strangest scene, perhaps, in the annals of vice-royalty, was when Lord Thomas Fitzgerald (Silken Thomas), son of the Earl of Kildare, and Lord-Lieutenant in his father’s absence, took up arms for Irish independence. He rode through the city with seven score horsemen, in shirts of mail and silken fringes on their head-pieces (hence the name Silken Thomas), to St. Mary’s Abbey, and there entering the council chamber, he flung down the sword of state upon the table, and bade defiance to the king and his ministers; then hastening to raise an army, he laid siege to Dublin Castle, but with no success. Silken Thomas and his five uncles were sent to London, and there executed; and sixteen323 Fitzgeralds were hanged and quartered at Dublin. By a singular fatality415, no plot laid against Dublin Castle ever succeeded; though to obtain possession of this foreign fortress was the paramount wish of all Irish rebel leaders. This was the object with Lord Maguire and his Catholics, with Lord Edward Fitzgerald and his republicans, with Emmet and his enthusiasts416, with Smith O’Brien and his nationalists—yet they all failed. Once only, during seven centuries, the green flag waved over Dublin Castle, with the motto—“Now or Never! Now and for Ever!” It was when Tyrconnel held it for King James.
In the ancient stormy times of Norman rule, the nobility naturally gathered round the Castle. Skinner’s Row was the “May Fair” of mediæval Dublin. Hoey’s Court, Castle Street, Cook Street, Fishamble Street, Bridge Street, Werburgh Street, High Street, Golden Lane, Back Lane, &c., were the fashionable localities inhabited by lords and bishops40, chancellors417 and judges; and Thomas Street was the grand prado where viceregal pomp and Norman pride were oftenest exhibited. A hundred years ago the Lord-Lieutenant was entertained at a ball by Lord Mountjoy in Back Lane. Skinner’s Row was distinguished by the residence of the great race of the Geraldines, called “Carbrie House,” which from them passed to the Dukes of Ormond, and after many vicissitudes, the palace from which Silken Thomas went forth to give his young life for Irish independence, fell into decay, “and on its site now stand the houses known as 6, 7, and 8 Christ Church Place, in the lower stories of which still exist some of the old oak beams of the Carbrie House.”
In Skinner’s Row also, two hundred years ago, dwelt Sir Robert Dixon, Mayor of Dublin, who was knighted at his own house there by the Lord-Lieutenant, the afterwards unfortunate Strafford. The house has fallen to ruins, but the vast property conferred on him by Charles I. for his good services, has descended to the family of Sir Kildare Burrowes, of Kildare. In those brilliant days of Skinner’s Row, it was but seventeen feet wide, and the pathways but one foot broad. All its glories have vanished now; even the name no longer exists; yet the remains of residences once inhabited by the magnificent Geraldines and Butlers can still be traced.
Every stone throughout this ancient quarter of Dublin has a history. In Cook Street Lord Maguire was arrested at midnight, under circumstances very similar to the capture of Lord Edward Fitzgerald; and “to commemorate418 this capture in the parish it was the annual custom, down to the year 1829, to toll419 the bells of St. Andrew’s Church at twelve o’clock on the night of the 22nd of October.”
In Bridge Street great lords and peers of the realm resided. The Marquis of Antrim, the Duke of Marlborough’s father; West324enra, the Dutch merchant who founded the family afterwards ennobled, and others. It was the Merrion Square of the day. In Bridge Street the rebellion of ’98 was organized at the house of Oliver Bond; and one night Major Swan, led by Reynolds the informer, seized twelve gentlemen there, all of whom were summarily hanged as rebels. Castle Street was the focus of the rebellion of 1641; Sir Phelim O’Neill and Lord Maguire had their residences there, and concocted420 together how to seize the Castle, destroy all the lords and council, and re-establish Popery in Ireland. But a more useful man than either lived there also—Sir James Ware421, whose indefatigable422 ardour in the cause of Irish literature caused him to collect, with great trouble and expense, a vast number of Irish manuscripts, which, after passing through many vicissitudes, are now deposited in the British Museum. The French family of Latouche came to Castle Street about one hundred years ago, and one of them, in 1778, upheld the shattered credit of the Government by a loan of £20,000 to the Lord-Lieutenant. Fishamble Street has historical and classic memories, and traditions of Handel consecrate423 this now obscure locality.
Handel spent a year in Dublin. His “Messiah” was composed there, and first performed for the benefit of Mercer’s Hospital. How content he was with his reception is expressed in a letter to a friend. “I cannot,” he says, “sufficiently express the kind treatment I receive here, but the politeness of this generous nation cannot be unknown to you.”
Dublin Quays424 are likewise illustrated by great names. On Usher’s Quay425 may still be seen the once magnificent Moira House, the princely residence of Lord Moira, afterwards Marquis of Hastings, Governor-General of India. A hundred years ago it was the Holland House of Dublin, sparkling with all the wit, splendour, rank, and influence of the metropolis. The decorations were unsurpassed in the kingdom for beauty and grandeur. The very windows were inlaid with mother-o’-pearl.
After the union, the family in disgust quitted Ireland; Moira house was left tenantless426 for some years, and then finally was sold for the use of the pauper427 poor of Dublin. The decorations were removed, the beautiful gardens turned into offices, the upper story of the edifice428 was taken off, and the entire building pauperized as much as possible to suit its inmates429 and its title—“The Mendicity.”
In the good old times the Lord Mayor treated the Lord-Lieutenant to a new play every Christmas, when the Corporation acted Mysteries upon the stage in Hoggin Green, where the College now stands. The Mysteries were on various subjects. In one, the tailors had orders to find Pilate and his wife clothed accordingly; the butchers were to supply the tormentors; the mariners and vintners represented Noah. At that period the Lord-Lieutenants held their court at Kilmainham, or Thomas Court,325 for Dublin Castle was not made a viceregal residence until the reign of Elizabeth. The parliaments, too, were ambulatory. Sometimes they met in the great aisle322 of Christ Church, that venerable edifice whose echoes have been destined to give back such conflicting sounds. What changes in its ritual and its worshippers! What scenes have passed before its high altar since first erected by the Danish bishop41, whose body, in pallium and mitre, lay exposed to view but a few years since, after a sleep of eight hundred years. Irish kings and Norman conquerors have trod the aisles. There Roderick was inaugurated, the last king of Ireland; there Strongbow sleeps, first of the Norman conquerors, and, until the middle of the last century, all payments were made at his tomb, as if in him alone, living or dead, the citizens had their strength; there Lambert Simnel was crowned with a crown taken from the head of the Virgin430 Mary; there Cromwell worshipped before he went forth to devastate215; there the last Stuart knelt in prayer before he threw the last stake at the Boyne for an empire; and there William of Nassau knelt in gratitude431 for the victory, with the crown upon his head, forgotten by James in his ignominious432 flight.
And how many rituals have risen up to heaven from that ancient altar, each anathema433 maranatha to the other—the solemn chants of the early church; the gorgeous ritual of the mass; in Elizabeth’s time, the simple liturgy434 of the English Church in the English tongue; this, too, was prohibited in its turn, and for ten years the Puritans wailed435 and howled against kings and liturgies436 in the ancient edifice; there the funeral oration42 for the death of Cromwell was pronounced, entitled, “Threni Hibernici, or Ireland sympathizing with England for the loss of their Josiah (Oliver Cromwell).” Once again rose the incense437 of the mass while King James was amongst us; but William quenched438 the lights on the altar, and established once more the English Liturgy in its simplicity439 and beauty. But so little, during all these changes, had the Irish to do with the cathedral of their capital, that by an Act passed in 1380 no Irishman was permitted to hold in it any situation or office; and so strictly440 was the law enforced, that Sir John Stevenson was the first Irishman admitted, as even vicar-choral.
Many are the themes of interest to be found in Mr. Gilbert’s “History of Dublin,” concerning those ancient times when Sackville Street was a marsh342, Merrion Square an exhausted441 quarry442, the undulations so beautiful in its present verdant state being but the accident of excavation443; when St. Stephen’s Green, with its ten fine Irish acres, was a compound of meadow, quagmire444, and ditch; when Mountjoy Square was a howling wilderness, and North Georges Street and Summer Hill were far away in the country, and when the Danes, rudely expelled by Norman swords from the326 south of the Liffey, were stealing over the river to found a settlement on the north side.
Our fathers have told us of Dublin in later times, before the union, when a hundred lords and two hundred commoners enriched and enlivened our city with their wealth and magnificence. Dublin was then at the summit of its glory; but when the colonists sold their parliament to England, and the Lords and Commons vanished, and their mansions became hospitals and poorhouses, and all wealth, power, influence, and magnificence were transferred to the loved mother country, then the “City of the Dark Water” sank into very pitiable insignificance. The proud Norman spirit of independence was broken at last, and there was no great principle to replace it. Having no large sympathies with the Irish nation, no idea of country, nationality, or any other grand word by which is expressed the resolve of self-reliant men to be self-governed, the colonists became petty, paltry445, and selfish in aim; imitative in manners and feelings; apathetic446, even antagonistic447 to all national advance; bound to England by helpless fear and servile hope; content so as they could rest under her great shadow, secure from the mysterious horrors of Popery, preserved in the blessing448 of a church establishment, and allowed to worship even the shadow of transcendent Majesty. Then Dublin ambition was satisfied and happy; for there is no word so instinctively449 abhorrent450, so invincibly451 opposed to all the prejudices of Dublin society, as patriotism.
From this cursory452 glance over the antecedents of our metropolis, the cause of her anti-Irishism is plainly deducible from the fact, that at no epoch453 was Dublin an Irish city. The inhabitants are a blended race, descended of Danes, Normans, Saxon settlers, and mongrel Irish. The country of their affections is England. They have known no other mother. With the proud old princes and chiefs of the ancient Irish race they have no more affinity than (to use Mr. Macaulay’s illustration) the English of Calcutta with the nation of Hindustan, and from this colonial position a certain Dublin idiosyncrasy of character has resulted, which makes the capital distinct in feeling from the rest of Ireland.
Meanwhile the destiny of the ancient race is working out, not in happiness or prosperity, but in stern, severe discipline. Unchanged and unchangeable they remain, so far as change is effected by impulses arising from within. “Two thousand years,” says Moore, “have passed over the hovel of the Irish peasant in vain.” Such as they were when the first light of history rested on them, they are now; indolent and dreamy, patient and resigned as fatalists, fanatical as Bonzees, implacable as Arabs, cunning as Greeks, courteous454 as Spaniards, superstitious as savages455, loving as children, clinging to the old home and the old sod and the old families with a tenderness that is always beautiful, sometimes327 heroic; loving to be ruled, with veneration456 in excess; ready to die like martyrs for a creed, a party, or the idol55 of the hour, but incapable457 of extending their sympathies beyond the family or the clan352; content with the lowest place in Europe; stationary amid progression; isolated from the European family; without power or influence; lazily resting in the past while the nations are wrestling in the present for the future. Children of the ocean, yet without commerce; idle by thousands, yet without manufactures; gifted with quick intellect and passionate hearts, yet literature and art die out amongst them for want of aid or sympathy; without definite aims, without energy or the earnestness which is the vital life of heroic deeds; dark and blind through prejudice and ignorance, they can neither resist nobly nor endure wisely; chafing458 in bondage459, yet their epileptic fits of liberty are marked only by wild excesses, and end only in sullen460 despair.
Yet it was not in the providence of God that the fine elements of humanity in such a people should still continue to waste and stagnate461 during centuries of inaction, while noble countries and fruitful lands, lying silent since creation, were waiting the destined toilers and workers, who, by the sweat of the brow, shall change them to living empires.
Two terrible calamities462 fell upon Ireland—famine and pestilence463; and by these two dread222 ministers of God’s great purposes, the Irish race were uprooted and driven forth to fulfil their appointed destiny. A million of our people emigrated; a million of our people died under these judgments464 of God. Seventeen millions worth of property passed from time-honoured names into the hands of strangers. The echoes of the old tongue—call it Pelasgian, Phœnician, Celtic, Irish, what you will, still the oldest in Europe, is dying out at last along the stony465 plains of Mayo and the wild sea-cliffs of the storm-rent western shore. Scarcely a million and a half are left of people too old to emigrate, amidst roofless cabins and ruined villages, who speak that language now. Exile, confiscation272, or death, was the final fate written on the page of history for the much-enduring children of Ireland. One day they may reassert themselves in the new world, or in other lands. Australia, with its skies of beauty and its pavement of gold, may be given to them as America to the Saxon, but how low must a nation have fallen at home when even famine and plague come to be welcomed as the levers of progression and social elevation466. Some wise purpose of God’s providence lies, no doubt, at the reverse side, but we have not yet turned the leaf.
The ancient race who, thousands of years ago, left the cradle of the sun to track him to the ocean, are now flung on the coast of another hemisphere to begin once more their destined westward march; and like the Israelites of old, they, too, might tell in that new country:328 “A Syrian ready to perish was our father!”
They fled across the Atlantic like a drift of autumn leaves—“pestilence-stricken multitudes”—and the sea was furrowed467 by the dead as the plague-ships passed along.
One would say a doom had been laid upon our people—the wandering Io of humanity—a destiny of weeping and unrest.
Of old the kings at Tara sat throned with their faces to the west: was it a symbol or a prophecy of the future of their nation? when from every hill in Ireland could be seen—
“The remnant of our people
Sweeping468 westward, wild and woful,
Like the cloud-rack of a tempest,
Like the withered469 leaves of autumn.”
From the Atlantic to the Pacific, where the Rocky Mountains bar like a portal the land of gold—through the islands of the Southern Ocean to the great desolate world of Australia, seeking as it were the lost home of their fathers, and doomed to make the circuit of the earth—still onward flows the tide of human life—that inexhaustible race which has cleared the forests of Canada, built the cities and made all the railroads of the States, given thousands to the red plains of the Crimea, overran California and peopled Australia—the race whose destiny has made them the instruments of all civilization, though they have never reaped its benefits.
Yet we cannot believe that the Irish race is doomed for ever to work and suffer without the glory of success; for the Celtic element is necessary to humanity as a great factor in human progress. It is the subtle, spiritual fire that warms and permeates470 the ruder clay of other races, giving them new, vivid, and magnetic impulses to growth and expansion.
The children of the early wanderers from the Isles of the Sea will still continue to fulfil their mission as world-workers and world-movers. Across the breadth of earth they will found new nations, each a greater and a stronger Ireland, where they will have the certainty of power, station, and reward denied them at home. But neither change nor progress nor the severing471 ocean will destroy the electric chain that binds472 them lovingly to their ancient mother in that true sympathy with country and kinship that ever burns in the Irish heart.
The new Ireland across the seas, whether in America or in Australia, will still cherish with sacred devotion the beautiful legends, the pathetic songs, the poetry and history and the heroic traditions of the old, well-loved country as eternal verses of the Bible of humanity, with all the light and music of the fanciful fairy period, such as I have tried to gather into a focus in these volumes, along with the holy memories of those martyrs of our race whose names are for ever associated with the words Liberty and Nationhood, but whose tragic fate has illustrated so many mournful pages in the history of the Irish past.
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1 narrated | |
v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2 legendary | |
adj.传奇(中)的,闻名遐迩的;n.传奇(文学) | |
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3 lore | |
n.传说;学问,经验,知识 | |
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4 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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5 superstitions | |
迷信,迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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6 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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7 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
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8 bards | |
n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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9 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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10 hood | |
n.头巾,兜帽,覆盖;v.罩上,以头巾覆盖 | |
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11 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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12 attained | |
(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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13 hieroglyphic | |
n.象形文字 | |
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14 primitive | |
adj.原始的;简单的;n.原(始)人,原始事物 | |
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15 mound | |
n.土墩,堤,小山;v.筑堤,用土堆防卫 | |
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16 nomad | |
n.游牧部落的人,流浪者,游牧民 | |
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17 warrior | |
n.勇士,武士,斗士 | |
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18 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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19 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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20 climax | |
n.顶点;高潮;v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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21 manifestation | |
n.表现形式;表明;现象 | |
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22 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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23 trophies | |
n.(为竞赛获胜者颁发的)奖品( trophy的名词复数 );奖杯;(尤指狩猎或战争中获得的)纪念品;(用于比赛或赛跑名称)奖 | |
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24 roe | |
n.鱼卵;獐鹿 | |
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25 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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26 martyrs | |
n.martyr的复数形式;烈士( martyr的名词复数 );殉道者;殉教者;乞怜者(向人诉苦以博取同情) | |
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27 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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28 grandeur | |
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29 decadence | |
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30 antagonism | |
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31 pretension | |
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32 fortress | |
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33 hostility | |
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34 indifference | |
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35 mere | |
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36 galled | |
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37 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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38 stumps | |
(被砍下的树的)树桩( stump的名词复数 ); 残肢; (板球三柱门的)柱; 残余部分 | |
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39 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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40 bishops | |
(基督教某些教派管辖大教区的)主教( bishop的名词复数 ); (国际象棋的)象 | |
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41 bishop | |
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42 oration | |
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43 guild | |
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44 colonists | |
n.殖民地开拓者,移民,殖民地居民( colonist的名词复数 ) | |
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45 persecuted | |
(尤指宗教或政治信仰的)迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 ); 烦扰,困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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46 tormented | |
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47 extirpated | |
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48 hatred | |
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49 nourishment | |
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50 metropolis | |
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51 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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52 patriot | |
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53 gallows | |
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54 idols | |
偶像( idol的名词复数 ); 受崇拜的人或物; 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物; 神像 | |
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55 idol | |
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56 potentates | |
n.君主,统治者( potentate的名词复数 );有权势的人 | |
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57 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
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58 eloquently | |
adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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59 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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60 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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61 subjugation | |
n.镇压,平息,征服 | |
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62 conqueror | |
n.征服者,胜利者 | |
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63 tapestried | |
adj.饰挂绣帷的,织在绣帷上的v.用挂毯(或绣帷)装饰( tapestry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64 feats | |
功绩,伟业,技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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65 dire | |
adj.可怕的,悲惨的,阴惨的,极端的 | |
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66 lustre | |
n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
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67 desecration | |
n. 亵渎神圣, 污辱 | |
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68 metropolitan | |
adj.大城市的,大都会的 | |
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69 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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70 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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71 passionate | |
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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72 ERECTED | |
adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
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73 expiated | |
v.为(所犯罪过)接受惩罚,赎(罪)( expiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74 aspirations | |
强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 ); 志向; 发送气音; 发 h 音 | |
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75 entrusted | |
v.委托,托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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77 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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78 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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79 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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80 anomalous | |
adj.反常的;不规则的 | |
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81 migration | |
n.迁移,移居,(鸟类等的)迁徙 | |
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82 conquerors | |
征服者,占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
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83 thrift | |
adj.节约,节俭;n.节俭,节约 | |
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84 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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85 provident | |
adj.为将来做准备的,有先见之明的 | |
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86 industrious | |
adj.勤劳的,刻苦的,奋发的 | |
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87 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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88 affinities | |
n.密切关系( affinity的名词复数 );亲近;(生性)喜爱;类同 | |
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89 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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90 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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91 distinctive | |
adj.特别的,有特色的,与众不同的 | |
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92 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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93 primal | |
adj.原始的;最重要的 | |
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94 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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95 collateral | |
adj.平行的;旁系的;n.担保品 | |
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96 cape | |
n.海角,岬;披肩,短披风 | |
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97 authentic | |
a.真的,真正的;可靠的,可信的,有根据的 | |
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98 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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99 annihilated | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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100 barbarians | |
n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 );外国人;粗野的人;无教养的人 | |
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101 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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102 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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103 migrations | |
n.迁移,移居( migration的名词复数 ) | |
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104 metaphor | |
n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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105 Mediterranean | |
adj.地中海的;地中海沿岸的 | |
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106 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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107 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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108 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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109 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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110 isles | |
岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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111 verge | |
n.边,边缘;v.接近,濒临 | |
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112 maritime | |
adj.海的,海事的,航海的,近海的,沿海的 | |
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113 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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114 verdant | |
adj.翠绿的,青翠的,生疏的,不老练的 | |
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115 solitudes | |
n.独居( solitude的名词复数 );孤独;荒僻的地方;人迹罕至的地方 | |
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116 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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117 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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118 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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119 defensive | |
adj.防御的;防卫的;防守的 | |
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120 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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121 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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122 stationary | |
adj.固定的,静止不动的 | |
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123 nomads | |
n.游牧部落的一员( nomad的名词复数 );流浪者;游牧生活;流浪生活 | |
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124 dominion | |
n.统治,管辖,支配权;领土,版图 | |
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125 predecessors | |
n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 );前辈;(被取代的)原有事物;前身 | |
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126 subjugated | |
v.征服,降伏( subjugate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127 impetus | |
n.推动,促进,刺激;推动力 | |
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128 fugitives | |
n.亡命者,逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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129 valiant | |
adj.勇敢的,英勇的;n.勇士,勇敢的人 | |
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130 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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131 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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132 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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133 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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134 tunics | |
n.(动植物的)膜皮( tunic的名词复数 );束腰宽松外衣;一套制服的短上衣;(天主教主教等穿的)短祭袍 | |
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135 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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136 diadems | |
n.王冠,王权,带状头饰( diadem的名词复数 ) | |
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137 bracelets | |
n.手镯,臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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138 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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139 profusely | |
ad.abundantly | |
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140 Portuguese | |
n.葡萄牙人;葡萄牙语 | |
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141 brazen | |
adj.厚脸皮的,无耻的,坚硬的 | |
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142 vessels | |
n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
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143 mariners | |
海员,水手(mariner的复数形式) | |
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144 disdaining | |
鄙视( disdain的现在分词 ); 不屑于做,不愿意做 | |
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145 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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146 monarchs | |
君主,帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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147 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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148 volatile | |
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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149 fickle | |
adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的,不坚定的 | |
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150 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
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151 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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152 lithe | |
adj.(指人、身体)柔软的,易弯的 | |
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153 nomadic | |
adj.流浪的;游牧的 | |
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154 warriors | |
武士,勇士,战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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155 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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156 sepulchral | |
adj.坟墓的,阴深的 | |
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157 civilizing | |
v.使文明,使开化( civilize的现在分词 ) | |
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158 degenerated | |
衰退,堕落,退化( degenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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159 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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160 creeds | |
(尤指宗教)信条,教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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161 hordes | |
n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 );部落 | |
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162 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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163 deteriorated | |
恶化,变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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165 rites | |
仪式,典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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166 votary | |
n.崇拜者;爱好者;adj.誓约的,立誓任圣职的 | |
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167 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
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168 symbolized | |
v.象征,作为…的象征( symbolize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169 quaffed | |
v.痛饮( quaff的过去式和过去分词 );畅饮;大口大口将…喝干;一饮而尽 | |
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170 mead | |
n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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171 skulls | |
颅骨( skull的名词复数 ); 脑袋; 脑子; 脑瓜 | |
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172 permanently | |
adv.永恒地,永久地,固定不变地 | |
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173 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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174 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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175 defiance | |
n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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176 fortitude | |
n.坚忍不拔;刚毅 | |
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177 brooks | |
n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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178 fetter | |
n./vt.脚镣,束缚 | |
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179 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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180 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
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181 glaciers | |
冰河,冰川( glacier的名词复数 ) | |
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182 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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183 devastating | |
adj.毁灭性的,令人震惊的,强有力的 | |
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184 vicissitudes | |
n.变迁,世事变化;变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 );盛衰兴废 | |
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185 founders | |
n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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186 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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187 humbled | |
adj. 卑下的,谦逊的,粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下,贬低 | |
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188 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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189 mightiest | |
adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 );巨大的;强有力的;浩瀚的 | |
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190 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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191 hazy | |
adj.有薄雾的,朦胧的;不肯定的,模糊的 | |
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192 forefathers | |
n.祖先,先人;祖先,祖宗( forefather的名词复数 );列祖列宗;前人 | |
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193 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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194 paramount | |
a.最重要的,最高权力的 | |
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195 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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196 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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197 yoke | |
n.轭;支配;v.给...上轭,连接,使成配偶 | |
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198 abject | |
adj.极可怜的,卑屈的 | |
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199 submission | |
n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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200 sarcasm | |
n.讥讽,讽刺,嘲弄,反话 (adj.sarcastic) | |
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201 coveted | |
adj.令人垂涎的;垂涎的,梦寐以求的v.贪求,觊觎(covet的过去分词);垂涎;贪图 | |
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202 scourge | |
n.灾难,祸害;v.蹂躏 | |
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203 ravaging | |
毁坏( ravage的现在分词 ); 蹂躏; 劫掠; 抢劫 | |
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204 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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205 despoil | |
v.夺取,抢夺 | |
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206 swarms | |
蜂群,一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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207 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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208 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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209 harry | |
vt.掠夺,蹂躏,使苦恼 | |
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210 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
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211 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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212 consul | |
n.领事;执政官 | |
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213 groans | |
n.呻吟,叹息( groan的名词复数 );呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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214 slaughtered | |
v.屠杀,杀戮,屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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215 devastate | |
v.使荒芜,破坏,压倒 | |
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216 devastated | |
v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词);摧毁;毁灭;在感情上(精神上、财务上等)压垮adj.毁坏的;极为震惊的 | |
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217 thrall | |
n.奴隶;奴隶制 | |
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218 renown | |
n.声誉,名望 | |
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219 saga | |
n.(尤指中世纪北欧海盗的)故事,英雄传奇 | |
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220 raven | |
n.渡鸟,乌鸦;adj.乌亮的 | |
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221 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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222 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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223 devastation | |
n.毁坏;荒废;极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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224 invader | |
n.侵略者,侵犯者,入侵者 | |
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225 invaders | |
入侵者,侵略者,侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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226 sluggish | |
adj.懒惰的,迟钝的,无精打采的 | |
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227 protracted | |
adj.拖延的;延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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228 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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229 hierarchy | |
n.等级制度;统治集团,领导层 | |
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230 attest | |
vt.证明,证实;表明 | |
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231 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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232 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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233 ballads | |
民歌,民谣,特别指叙述故事的歌( ballad的名词复数 ); 讴 | |
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234 emulated | |
v.与…竞争( emulate的过去式和过去分词 );努力赶上;计算机程序等仿真;模仿 | |
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235 celebrity | |
n.名人,名流;著名,名声,名望 | |
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236 monasteries | |
修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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237 pillaged | |
v.抢劫,掠夺( pillage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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238 plunder | |
vt.劫掠财物,掠夺;n.劫掠物,赃物;劫掠 | |
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239 plundered | |
掠夺,抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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240 relentlessly | |
adv.不屈不挠地;残酷地;不间断 | |
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241 divergence | |
n.分歧,岔开 | |
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242 consternation | |
n.大为吃惊,惊骇 | |
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243 aggregate | |
adj.总计的,集合的;n.总数;v.合计;集合 | |
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244 hurdles | |
n.障碍( hurdle的名词复数 );跳栏;(供人或马跳跃的)栏架;跨栏赛 | |
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245 conversion | |
n.转化,转换,转变 | |
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246 sundry | |
adj.各式各样的,种种的 | |
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247 baron | |
n.男爵;(商业界等)巨头,大王 | |
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248 fortified | |
adj. 加强的 | |
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249 fortify | |
v.强化防御,为…设防;加强,强化 | |
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250 incessant | |
adj.不停的,连续的 | |
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251 shrines | |
圣地,圣坛,神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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252 crouched | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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253 unity | |
n.团结,联合,统一;和睦,协调 | |
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254 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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255 feudal | |
adj.封建的,封地的,领地的 | |
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256 feud | |
n.长期不和;世仇;v.长期争斗;世代结仇 | |
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257 perennially | |
adv.经常出现地;长期地;持久地;永久地 | |
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258 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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259 wedded | |
adj.正式结婚的;渴望…的,执著于…的v.嫁,娶,(与…)结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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260 ravaged | |
毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 ); 蹂躏; 劫掠; 抢劫 | |
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261 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
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262 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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263 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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264 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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265 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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266 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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267 uprooted | |
v.把(某物)连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 );根除;赶走;把…赶出家园 | |
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268 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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269 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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270 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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271 ascends | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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272 confiscation | |
n. 没收, 充公, 征收 | |
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273 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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274 knights | |
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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275 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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276 sediment | |
n.沉淀,沉渣,沉积(物) | |
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277 pariahs | |
n.被社会遗弃者( pariah的名词复数 );贱民 | |
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278 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
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279 specimens | |
n.样品( specimen的名词复数 );范例;(化验的)抽样;某种类型的人 | |
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280 epic | |
n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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281 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
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282 conclave | |
n.秘密会议,红衣主教团 | |
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283 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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284 seducer | |
n.诱惑者,骗子,玩弄女性的人 | |
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285 abhorred | |
v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 );(厌恶地)回避;拒绝;淘汰 | |
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286 deposed | |
v.罢免( depose的过去式和过去分词 );(在法庭上)宣誓作证 | |
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287 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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288 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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289 disdains | |
鄙视,轻蔑( disdain的名词复数 ) | |
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290 expiates | |
v.为(所犯罪过)接受惩罚,赎(罪)( expiate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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291 penance | |
n.(赎罪的)惩罪 | |
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292 chalice | |
n.圣餐杯;金杯毒酒 | |
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293 soliciting | |
v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 );(指娼妇)拉客;索求;征求 | |
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294 renowned | |
adj.著名的,有名望的,声誉鹊起的 | |
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295 gem | |
n.宝石,珠宝;受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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296 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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297 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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298 spoused | |
v.配偶,夫或妻( spouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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299 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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300 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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301 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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302 slew | |
v.(使)旋转;n.大量,许多 | |
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303 extinction | |
n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
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304 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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305 regain | |
vt.重新获得,收复,恢复 | |
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306 garrison | |
n.卫戍部队;驻地,卫戍区;vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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307 repulsed | |
v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 );驳斥;拒绝 | |
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308 downwards | |
adj./adv.向下的(地),下行的(地) | |
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309 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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310 fervent | |
adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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311 traitorously | |
叛逆地,不忠地 | |
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312 avenged | |
v.为…复仇,报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 );为…报复 | |
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313 avenge | |
v.为...复仇,为...报仇 | |
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314 covenanted | |
v.立约,立誓( covenant的过去分词 ) | |
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315 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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316 broil | |
v.烤,烧,争吵,怒骂;n.烤,烧,争吵,怒骂 | |
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317 fealty | |
n.忠贞,忠节 | |
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318 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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319 monastery | |
n.修道院,僧院,寺院 | |
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320 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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321 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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322 aisle | |
n.(教堂、教室、戏院等里的)过道,通道 | |
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323 aisles | |
n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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324 ivy | |
n.常青藤,常春藤 | |
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325 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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326 vocal | |
adj.直言不讳的;嗓音的;n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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327 monarchy | |
n.君主,最高统治者;君主政体,君主国 | |
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328 putrid | |
adj.腐臭的;有毒的;已腐烂的;卑劣的 | |
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329 remonstrances | |
n.抱怨,抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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330 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
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331 pageant | |
n.壮观的游行;露天历史剧 | |
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332 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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333 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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334 massacre | |
n.残杀,大屠杀;v.残杀,集体屠杀 | |
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335 penitence | |
n.忏悔,赎罪;悔过 | |
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336 derives | |
v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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337 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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338 tempting | |
a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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339 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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340 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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341 reigning | |
adj.统治的,起支配作用的 | |
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342 marsh | |
n.沼泽,湿地 | |
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343 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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344 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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345 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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346 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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347 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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348 merged | |
(使)混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 ); 相融; 融入; 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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349 genealogies | |
n.系谱,家系,宗谱( genealogy的名词复数 ) | |
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350 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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351 renounced | |
v.声明放弃( renounce的过去式和过去分词 );宣布放弃;宣布与…决裂;宣布摒弃 | |
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352 clan | |
n.氏族,部落,宗族,家族,宗派 | |
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353 progenitor | |
n.祖先,先驱 | |
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354 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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355 amity | |
n.友好关系 | |
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356 treacherously | |
背信弃义地; 背叛地; 靠不住地; 危险地 | |
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357 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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358 kinsman | |
n.男亲属 | |
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359 kinsmen | |
n.家属,亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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360 cleft | |
n.裂缝;adj.裂开的 | |
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361 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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362 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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363 isolated | |
adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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364 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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365 implicit | |
a.暗示的,含蓄的,不明晰的,绝对的 | |
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366 implicitly | |
adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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367 affinity | |
n.亲和力,密切关系 | |
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368 enactments | |
n.演出( enactment的名词复数 );展现;规定;通过 | |
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369 obliterate | |
v.擦去,涂抹,去掉...痕迹,消失,除去 | |
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370 salmon | |
n.鲑,大马哈鱼,橙红色的 | |
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371 baker | |
n.面包师 | |
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372 copiously | |
adv.丰富地,充裕地 | |
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373 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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374 annihilating | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的现在分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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375 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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376 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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377 expedient | |
adj.有用的,有利的;n.紧急的办法,权宜之计 | |
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378 attire | |
v.穿衣,装扮[同]array;n.衣着;盛装 | |
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379 writhe | |
vt.挣扎,痛苦地扭曲;vi.扭曲,翻腾,受苦;n.翻腾,苦恼 | |
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380 clattering | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的现在分词形式) | |
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381 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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382 enacted | |
制定(法律),通过(法案)( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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383 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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384 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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385 heeded | |
v.听某人的劝告,听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 );变平,使(某物)变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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386 ordinances | |
n.条例,法令( ordinance的名词复数 ) | |
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387 auxiliaries | |
n.助动词 ( auxiliary的名词复数 );辅助工,辅助人员 | |
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388 interdict | |
v.限制;禁止;n.正式禁止;禁令 | |
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389 convened | |
召开( convene的过去式 ); 召集; (为正式会议而)聚集; 集合 | |
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390 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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391 laborious | |
adj.吃力的,努力的,不流畅 | |
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392 throbbed | |
抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 ); (心脏、脉搏等)跳动 | |
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393 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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394 mansions | |
n.宅第,公馆,大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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395 undertaking | |
n.保证,许诺,事业 | |
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396 excavating | |
v.挖掘( excavate的现在分词 );开凿;挖出;发掘 | |
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397 elucidation | |
n.说明,阐明 | |
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398 statutes | |
成文法( statute的名词复数 ); 法令; 法规; 章程 | |
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399 hieroglyphics | |
n.pl.象形文字 | |
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400 evoked | |
[医]诱发的 | |
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401 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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402 illustrated | |
adj. 有插图的,列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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403 weird | |
adj.古怪的,离奇的;怪诞的,神秘而可怕的 | |
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404 insignificance | |
n.不重要;无价值;无意义 | |
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405 coeval | |
adj.同时代的;n.同时代的人或事物 | |
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406 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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407 gorges | |
n.山峡,峡谷( gorge的名词复数 );咽喉v.(用食物把自己)塞饱,填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 );作呕 | |
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408 foam | |
v./n.泡沫,起泡沫 | |
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409 hovering | |
鸟( hover的现在分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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410 piers | |
n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 );(常设有娱乐场所的)突堤;柱子;墙墩 | |
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411 nemesis | |
n.给以报应者,复仇者,难以对付的敌手 | |
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412 dungeons | |
n.地牢( dungeon的名词复数 ) | |
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413 invoked | |
v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 );行使(权利等);祈求救助;恳求 | |
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414 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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415 fatality | |
n.不幸,灾祸,天命 | |
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416 enthusiasts | |
n.热心人,热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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417 chancellors | |
大臣( chancellor的名词复数 ); (某些美国大学的)校长; (德国或奥地利的)总理; (英国大学的)名誉校长 | |
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418 commemorate | |
vt.纪念,庆祝 | |
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419 toll | |
n.过路(桥)费;损失,伤亡人数;v.敲(钟) | |
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420 concocted | |
v.将(尤指通常不相配合的)成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 );调制;编造;捏造 | |
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421 ware | |
n.(常用复数)商品,货物 | |
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422 indefatigable | |
adj.不知疲倦的,不屈不挠的 | |
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423 consecrate | |
v.使圣化,奉…为神圣;尊崇;奉献 | |
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424 quays | |
码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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425 quay | |
n.码头,靠岸处 | |
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426 tenantless | |
adj.无人租赁的,无人居住的 | |
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427 pauper | |
n.贫民,被救济者,穷人 | |
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428 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
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429 inmates | |
n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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430 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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431 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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432 ignominious | |
adj.可鄙的,不光彩的,耻辱的 | |
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433 anathema | |
n.诅咒;被诅咒的人(物),十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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434 liturgy | |
n.礼拜仪式 | |
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435 wailed | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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436 liturgies | |
n.礼拜仪式( liturgy的名词复数 );(英国国教的)祈祷书 | |
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437 incense | |
v.激怒;n.香,焚香时的烟,香气 | |
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438 quenched | |
解(渴)( quench的过去式和过去分词 ); 终止(某事物); (用水)扑灭(火焰等); 将(热物体)放入水中急速冷却 | |
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439 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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440 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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441 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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442 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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443 excavation | |
n.挖掘,发掘;被挖掘之地 | |
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444 quagmire | |
n.沼地 | |
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445 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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446 apathetic | |
adj.冷漠的,无动于衷的 | |
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447 antagonistic | |
adj.敌对的 | |
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448 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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449 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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450 abhorrent | |
adj.可恶的,可恨的,讨厌的 | |
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451 invincibly | |
adv.难战胜地,无敌地 | |
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452 cursory | |
adj.粗略的;草率的;匆促的 | |
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453 epoch | |
n.(新)时代;历元 | |
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454 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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455 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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456 veneration | |
n.尊敬,崇拜 | |
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457 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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458 chafing | |
n.皮肤发炎v.擦热(尤指皮肤)( chafe的现在分词 );擦痛;发怒;惹怒 | |
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459 bondage | |
n.奴役,束缚 | |
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460 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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461 stagnate | |
v.停止 | |
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462 calamities | |
n.灾祸,灾难( calamity的名词复数 );不幸之事 | |
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463 pestilence | |
n.瘟疫 | |
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464 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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465 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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466 elevation | |
n.高度;海拔;高地;上升;提高 | |
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467 furrowed | |
v.犁田,开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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468 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
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469 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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470 permeates | |
弥漫( permeate的第三人称单数 ); 遍布; 渗入; 渗透 | |
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471 severing | |
v.切断,断绝( sever的现在分词 );断,裂 | |
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472 binds | |
v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 );装订;捆绑;(用长布条)缠绕 | |
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