And what was the Great Stone Face?
Embosomed amongst a family of lofty mountains, there was a valley so spacious3 that it contained many thousand inhabitants. Some of these good people dwelt in log-huts, with the black forest all around them, on the steep and difficult hill-sides. Others had their homes in comfortable farm-houses, and cultivated the rich soil on the gentle slopes or level surfaces of the valley. Others, again, were congregated4 into populous5 villages, where some wild, highland6 rivulet7, tumbling down from its birthplace in the upper mountain region, had been caught and tamed by human cunning, and compelled to turn the machinery8 of cotton-factories. The inhabitants of this valley, in short, were numerous, and of many modes of life. But all of them, grown people and children, had a kind of familiarity with the Great Stone Face, although some possessed9 the gift of distinguishing this grand natural phenomenon more perfectly10 than many of their neighbors.
The Great Stone Face, then, was a work of Nature in her mood of majestic11 playfulness, formed on the perpendicular12 side of a mountain by some immense rocks, which had been thrown together in such a position as, when viewed at a proper distance, precisely13 to resemble the features of the human countenance14. It seemed as if an enormous giant, or a Titan, had sculptured his own likeness15 on the precipice16. There was the broad arch of the forehead, a hundred feet in height; the nose, with its long bridge; and the vast lips, which, if they could have spoken, would have rolled their thunder accents from one end of the valley to the other. True it is, that if the spectator approached too near, he lost the outline of the gigantic visage, and could discern only a heap of ponderous19 and gigantic rocks, piled in chaotic20 ruin one upon another. Retracing21 his steps, however, the wondrous22 features would again be seen; and the farther he withdrew from them, the more like a human face, with all its original divinity intact, did they appear; until, as it grew dim in the distance, with the clouds and glorified23 vapor24 of the mountains clustering about it, the Great Stone Face seemed positively25 to be alive.
It was a happy lot for children to grow up to manhood or womanhood with the Great Stone Face before their eyes, for all the features were noble, and the expression was at once grand and sweet, as if it were the glow of a vast, warm heart, that embraced all mankind in its affections, and had room for more. It was an education only to look at it. According to the belief of many people, the valley owed much of its fertility to this benign27 aspect that was continually beaming over it, illuminating28 the clouds, and infusing its tenderness into the sunshine.
As we began with saying, a mother and her little boy sat at their cottage-door, gazing at the Great Stone Face, and talking about it. The child’s name was Ernest.
“Mother,” said he, while the Titanic29 visage smiled on him, “I wish that it could speak, for it looks so very kindly30 that its voice must needs be pleasant. If I were to see a man with such a face, I should love him dearly.”
“If an old prophecy should come to pass,” answered his mother, “we may see a man, some time or other, with exactly such a face as that.”
“What prophecy do you mean, dear mother?” eagerly inquired Ernest. “Pray tell me about it!”
So his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to her, when she herself was younger than little Ernest; a story, not of things that were past, but of what was yet to come; a story, nevertheless, so very old, that even the Indians, who formerly31 inhabited this valley, had heard it from their forefathers32, to whom, as they affirmed, it had been murmured by the mountain streams, and whispered by the wind among the tree-tops. The purport34 was, that, at some future day, a child should be born hereabouts, who was destined35 to become the greatest and noblest personage of his time, and whose countenance, in manhood, should bear an exact resemblance to the Great Stone Face. Not a few old-fashioned people, and young ones likewise, in the ardor37 of their hopes, still cherished an enduring faith in this old prophecy. But others, who had seen more of the world, had watched and waited till they were weary, and had beheld38 no man with such a face, nor any man that proved to be much greater or nobler than his neighbors, concluded it to be nothing but an idle tale. At all events, the great man of the prophecy had not yet appeared.
“O mother, dear mother!” cried Ernest, clapping his hands above his head, “I do hope that I shall live to see him!”
His mother was an affectionate and thoughtful woman, and felt that it was wisest not to discourage the generous hopes of her little boy. So she only said to him, “Perhaps you may.”
And Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told him. It was always in his mind, whenever he looked upon the Great Stone Face. He spent his childhood in the log-cottage where he was born, and was dutiful to his mother, and helpful to her in many things, assisting her much with his little hands, and more with his loving heart. In this manner, from a happy yet often pensive39 child, he grew up to be a mild, quiet, unobtrusive boy, and sun-browned with labor40 in the fields, but with more intelligence brightening his aspect than is seen in many lads who have been taught at famous schools. Yet Ernest had had no teacher, save only that the Great Stone Face became one to him. When the toil41 of the day was over, he would gaze at it for hours, until he began to imagine that those vast features recognized him, and gave him a smile of kindness and encouragement, responsive to his own look of veneration42. We must not take upon us to affirm that this was a mistake, although the Face may have looked no more kindly at Ernest than at all the world besides. But the secret was that the boy’s tender and confiding43 simplicity44 discerned what other people could not see; and thus the love, which was meant for all, became his peculiar45 portion.
About this time there went a rumor46 throughout the valley, that the great man, foretold47 from ages long ago, who was to bear a resemblance to the Great Stone Face, had appeared at last. It seems that, many years before, a young man had migrated from the valley and settled at a distant seaport48, where, after getting together a little money, he had set up as a shopkeeper. His name — but I could never learn whether it was his real one, or a nickname that had grown out of his habits and success in life — was Gathergold. Being shrewd and active, and endowed by Providence49 with that inscrutable faculty50 which develops itself in what the world calls luck, he became an exceedingly rich merchant, and owner of a whole fleet of bulky-bottomed ships. All the countries of the globe appeared to join hands for the mere51 purpose of adding heap after heap to the mountainous accumulation of this one man’s wealth. The cold regions of the north, almost within the gloom and shadow of the Arctic Circle, sent him their tribute in the shape of furs; hot Africa sifted52 for him the golden sands of her rivers, and gathered up the ivory tusks53 of her great elephants out of the forests; the East came bringing him the rich shawls, and spices, and teas, and the effulgence54 of diamonds, and the gleaming purity of large pearls. The ocean, not to be behindhand with the earth, yielded up her mighty55 whales, that Mr. Gathergold might sell their oil, and make a profit of it. Be the original commodity what it might, it was gold within his grasp. It might be said of him, as of Midas in the fable56, that whatever he touched with his finger immediately glistened57, and grew yellow, and was changed at once into sterling58 metal, or, which suited him still better, into piles of coin. And, when Mr. Gathergold had become so very rich that it would have taken him a hundred years only to count his wealth, he bethought himself of his native valley, and resolved to go back thither59, and end his days where he was born. With this purpose in view, he sent a skilful60 architect to build him such a palace as should be fit for a man of his vast wealth to live in.
As I have said above, it had already been rumored61 in the valley that Mr. Gathergold had turned out to be the prophetic personage so long and vainly looked for, and that his visage was the perfect and undeniable similitude of the Great Stone Face. People were the more ready to believe that this must needs be the fact, when they beheld the splendid edifice62 that rose, as if by enchantment63, on the site of his father’s old weatherbeaten farm-house. The exterior64 was of marble, so dazzlingly white that it seemed as though the whole structure might melt away in the sunshine, like those humbler ones which Mr. Gathergold, in his young play-days, before his fingers were gifted with the touch of transmutation, had been accustomed to build of snow. It had a richly ornamented66 portico67, supported by tall pillars, beneath which was a lofty door, studded with silver knobs, and made of a kind of variegated68 wood that had been brought from beyond the sea. The windows, from the floor to the ceiling of each stately apartment, were composed, respectively, of but one enormous pane69 of glass, so transparently70 pure that it was said to be a finer medium than even the vacant atmosphere. Hardly anybody had been permitted to see the interior of this palace; but it was reported, and with good semblance36 of truth, to be far more gorgeous than the outside, insomuch that whatever was iron or brass71 in other houses was silver or gold in this; and Mr. Gathergold’s bedchamber, especially, made such a glittering appearance that no ordinary man would have been able to close his eyes there. But, on the other hand, Mr. Gathergold was now so inured72 to wealth, that perhaps he could not have closed his eyes unless where the gleam of it was certain to find its way beneath his eyelids73.
In due time, the mansion74 was finished; next came the upholsterers, with magnificent furniture; then, a whole troop of black and white servants, the harbingers of Mr. Gathergold, who, in his own majestic person, was expected to arrive at sunset. Our friend Ernest, meanwhile, had been deeply stirred by the idea that the great man, the noble man, the man of prophecy, after so many ages of delay, was at length to be made manifest to his native valley. He knew, boy as he was, that there were a thousand ways in which Mr. Gathergold, with his vast wealth, might transform himself into an angel of beneficence, and assume a control over human affairs as wide and benignant as the smile of the Great Stone Face. Full of faith and hope, Ernest doubted not that what the people said was true, and that now he was to behold75 the living likeness of those wondrous features on the mountain-side. While the boy was still gazing up the valley, and fancying, as he always did, that the Great Stone Face returned his gaze and looked kindly at him, the rumbling76 of wheels was heard, approaching swiftly along the winding77 road.
“Here he comes!” cried a group of people who were assembled to witness the arrival. “Here comes the great Mr. Gathergold!”
A carriage, drawn78 by four horses, dashed round the turn of the road. Within it, thrust partly out of the window, appeared the physiognomy of the old man, with a skin as yellow as if his own Midas-hand had transmuted79 it. He had a low forehead, small, sharp eyes, puckered80 about with innumerable wrinkles, and very thin lips, which he made still thinner by pressing them forcibly together.
“The very image of the Great Stone Face!” shouted the people. “Sure enough, the old prophecy is true; and here we have the great man come, at last!”
And, what greatly perplexed81 Ernest, they seemed actually to believe that here was the likeness which they spoke17 of. By the roadside there chanced to be an old beggar-woman and two little beggar-children, stragglers from some far-off region, who, as the carriage rolled onward82, held out their hands and lifted up their doleful voices, most piteously beseeching83 charity. A yellow claw — the very same that had clawed together so much wealth — poked84 itself out of the coach-window, and dropt some copper85 coins upon the ground; so that, though the great man’s name seems to have been Gathergold, he might just as suitably have been nicknamed Scattercopper. Still, nevertheless, with an earnest shout, and evidently with as much good faith as ever, the people bellowed87, “He is the very image of the Great Stone Face!”
But Ernest turned sadly from the wrinkled shrewdness of that sordid88 visage, and gazed up the valley, where, amid a gathering89 mist, gilded90 by the last sunbeams, he could still distinguish those glorious features which had impressed themselves into his soul. Their aspect cheered him. What did the benign lips seem to say?
“He will come! Fear not, Ernest; the man will come!”
The years went on, and Ernest ceased to be a boy. He had grown to be a young man now. He attracted little notice from the other inhabitants of the valley; for they saw nothing remarkable91 in his way of life save that, when the labor of the day was over, he still loved to go apart and gaze and meditate92 upon the Great Stone Face. According to their idea of the matter, it was a folly93, indeed, but pardonable, inasmuch as Ernest was industrious94, kind, and neighborly, and neglected no duty for the sake of indulging this idle habit. They knew not that the Great Stone Face had become a teacher to him, and that the sentiment which was expressed in it would enlarge the young man’s heart, and fill it with wider and deeper sympathies than other hearts. They knew not that thence would come a better wisdom than could be learned from books, and a better life than could be moulded on the defaced example of other human lives. Neither did Ernest know that the thoughts and affections which came to him so naturally, in the fields and at the fireside, and wherever he communed with himself, were of a higher tone than those which all men shared with him. A simple soul — simple as when his mother first taught him the old prophecy — he beheld the marvellous features beaming adown the valley, and still wondered that their human counterpart was so long in making his appearance.
By this time poor Mr. Gathergold was dead and buried; and the oddest part of the matter was, that his wealth, which was the body and spirit of his existence, had disappeared before his death, leaving nothing of him but a living skeleton, covered over with a wrinkled yellow skin. Since the melting away of his gold, it had been very generally conceded that there was no such striking resemblance, after all, betwixt the ignoble96 features of the ruined merchant and that majestic face upon the mountain-side. So the people ceased to honor him during his lifetime, and quietly consigned97 him to forgetfulness after his decease. Once in a while, it is true, his memory was brought up in connection with the magnificent palace which he had built, and which had long ago been turned into a hotel for the accommodation of strangers, multitudes of whom came, every summer, to visit that famous natural curiosity, the Great Stone Face. Thus, Mr. Gathergold being discredited98 and thrown into the shade, the man of prophecy was yet to come.
It so happened that a native-born son of the valley, many years before, had enlisted99 as a soldier, and, after a great deal of hard fighting, had now become an illustrious commander. Whatever he may be called in history, he was known in camps and on the battle-field under the nickname of Old Blood-and–Thunder. This war-worn veteran being now infirm with age and wounds, and weary of the turmoil100 of a military life, and of the roll of the drum and the clangor of the trumpet101, that had so long been ringing in his ears, had lately signified a purpose of returning to his native valley, hoping to find repose102 where he remembered to have left it. The inhabitants, his old neighbors and their grown-up children, were resolved to welcome the renowned103 warrior104 with a salute105 of cannon106 and a public dinner; and all the more enthusiastically, it being affirmed that now, at last, the likeness of the Great Stone Face had actually appeared. An aid-de-camp of Old Blood-and–Thunder, travelling through the valley, was said to have been struck with the resemblance. Moreover the schoolmates and early acquaintances of the general were ready to testify, on oath, that, to the best of their recollection, the aforesaid general had been exceedingly like the majestic image, even when a boy, only the idea had never occurred to them at that period. Great, therefore, was the excitement throughout the valley; and many people, who had never once thought of glancing at the Great Stone Face for years before, now spent their time in gazing at it, for the sake of knowing exactly how General Blood-and–Thunder looked.
On the day of the great festival, Ernest, with all the other people of the valley, left their work, and proceeded to the spot where the sylvan107 banquet was prepared. As he approached, the loud voice of the Rev95. Dr. Battleblast was heard, beseeching a blessing108 on the good things set before them, and on the distinguished109 friend of peace in whose honor they were assembled. The tables were arranged in a cleared space of the woods, shut in by the surrounding trees, except where a vista110 opened eastward111, and afforded a distant view of the Great Stone Face. Over the general’s chair, which was a relic112 from the home of Washington, there was an arch of verdant113 boughs114, with the laurel profusely115 intermixed, and surmounted116 by his country’s banner, beneath which he had won his victories. Our friend Ernest raised himself on his tiptoes, in hopes to get a glimpse of the celebrated117 guest; but there was a mighty crowd about the tables anxious to hear the toasts and speeches, and to catch any word that might fall from the general in reply; and a volunteer company, doing duty as a guard, pricked118 ruthlessly with their bayonets at any particularly quiet person among the throng119. So Ernest, being of an unobtrusive character, was thrust quite into the background, where he could see no more of Old Blood-and–Thunder’s physiognomy than if it had been still blazing on the battle-field. To console himself, he turned towards the Great Stone Face, which, like a faithful and long remembered friend, looked back and smiled upon him through the vista of the forest. Meantime, however, he could overhear the remarks of various individuals, who were comparing the features of the hero with the face on the distant mountain-side.
“ ’Tis the same face, to a hair!” cried one man, cutting a caper120 for joy.
“Wonderfully like, that’s a fact!” responded another.
“Like! why, I call it Old Blood-and–Thunder himself, in a monstrous121 looking-glass!” cried a third. “And why not? He’s the greatest man of this or any other age, beyond a doubt.”
And then all three of the speakers gave a great shout, which communicated electricity to the crowd, and called forth122 a roar from a thousand voices, that went reverberating123 for miles among the mountains, until you might have supposed that the Great Stone Face had poured its thunderbreath into the cry. All these comments, and this vast enthusiasm, served the more to interest our friend; nor did he think of questioning that now, at length, the mountain-visage had found its human counterpart. It is true, Ernest had imagined that this long-looked-for personage would appear in the character of a man of peace, uttering wisdom, and doing good, and making people happy. But, taking an habitual124 breadth of view, with all his simplicity, he contended that Providence should choose its own method of blessing mankind, and could conceive that this great end might be effected even by a warrior and a bloody125 sword, should inscrutable wisdom see fit to order matters so.
“The general! the general!” was now the cry. “Hush! silence! Old Blood-and–Thunder’s going to make a speech.”
Even so; for, the cloth being removed, the general’s health had been drunk, amid shouts of applause, and he now stood upon his feet to thank the company. Ernest saw him. There he was, over the shoulders of the crowd, from the two glittering epaulets and embroidered126 collar upward, beneath the arch of green boughs with intertwined laurel, and the banner drooping127 as if to shade his brow! And there, too, visible in the same glance, through the vista of the forest, appeared the Great Stone Face! And was there, indeed, such a resemblance as the crowd had testified? Alas128, Ernest could not recognize it! He beheld a war-worn and weatherbeaten countenance, full of energy, and expressive129 of an iron will; but the gentle wisdom, the deep, broad, tender sympathies, were altogether wanting in Old Blood-and–Thunder’s visage; and even if the Great Stone Face had assumed his look of stern command, the milder traits would still have tempered it.
“This is not the man of prophecy,” sighed Ernest to himself, as he made his way out of the throng. “And must the world wait longer yet?”
The mists had congregated about the distant mountain-side, and there were seen the grand and awful features of the Great Stone Face, awful but benignant, as if a mighty angel were sitting among the hills, and enrobing himself in a cloud-vesture of gold and purple. As he looked, Ernest could hardly believe but that a smile beamed over the whole visage, with a radiance still brightening, although without motion of the lips. It was probably the effect of the western sunshine, melting through the thinly diffused130 vapors131 that had swept between him and the object that he gazed at. But — as it always did — the aspect of his marvellous friend made Ernest as hopeful as if he had never hoped in vain.
“Fear not, Ernest,” said his heart, even as if the Great Face were whispering him — fear not, Ernest; he will come.”
More years sped swiftly and tranquilly133 away. Ernest still dwelt in his native valley, and was now a man of middle age. By imperceptible degrees, he had become known among the people. Now, as heretofore, he labored134 for his bread, and was the same simple-hearted man that he had always been. But he had thought and felt so much, he had given so many of the best hours of his life to unworldly hopes for some great good to mankind, that it seemed as though he had been talking with the angels, and had imbibed135 a portion of their wisdom unawares. It was visible in the calm and well-considered beneficence of his daily life, the quiet stream of which had made a wide green margin136 all along its course. Not a day passed by, that the world was not the better because this man, humble65 as he was, had lived. He never stepped aside from his own path, yet would always reach a blessing to his neighbor. Almost involuntarily too, he had become a preacher. The pure and high simplicity of his thought, which, as one of its manifestations137, took shape in the good deeds that dropped silently from his hand, flowed also forth in speech. He uttered truths that wrought138 upon and moulded the lives of those who heard him. His auditors139, it may be, never suspected that Ernest, their own neighbor and familiar friend, was more than an ordinary man; least of all did Ernest himself suspect it; but, inevitably140 as the murmur33 of a rivulet, came thoughts out of his mouth that no other human lips had spoken.
When the people’s minds had had a little time to cool, they were ready enough to acknowledge their mistake in imagining a similarity between General Blood-and–Thunder’s truculent141 physiognomy and the benign visage on the mountain-side. But now, again, there were reports and many paragraphs in the newspapers, affirming that the likeness of the Great Stone Face had appeared upon the broad shoulders of a certain eminent142 statesman. He, like Mr. Gathergold and Old Blood-and–Thunder, was a native of the valley, but had left it in his early days, and taken up the trades of law and politics. Instead of the rich man’s wealth and the warrior’s sword, he had but a tongue, and it was mightier143 than both together. So wonderfully eloquent144 was he, that whatever he might choose to say, his auditors had no choice but to believe him; wrong looked like right, and right like wrong; for when it pleased him, he could make a kind of illuminated145 fog with his mere breath, and obscure the natural daylight with it. His tongue, indeed, was a magic instrument: sometimes it rumbled146 like the thunder; sometimes it warbled like the sweetest music. It was the blast of war, the song of peace; and it seemed to have a heart in it, when there was no such matter. In good truth, he was a wondrous man; and when his tongue had acquired him all other imaginable success — when it had been heard in halls of state, and in the courts of princes and potentates147 — after it had made him known all over the world, even as a voice crying from shore to shore — it finally persuaded his countrymen to select him for the Presidency148. Before this time — indeed, as soon as he began to grow celebrated — his admirers had found out the resemblance between him and the Great Stone Face; and so much were they struck by it, that throughout the country this distinguished gentleman was known by the name of Old Stony149 Phiz. The phrase was considered as giving a highly favorable aspect to his political prospects150; for, as is likewise the case with the Popedom, nobody ever becomes President without taking a name other than his own.
While his friends were doing their best to make him President, Old Stony Phiz, as he was called, set out on a visit to the valley where he was born. Of course, he had no other object than to shake hands with his fellow-citizens and neither thought nor cared about any effect which his progress through the country might have upon the election. Magnificent preparations were made to receive the illustrious statesman; a cavalcade151 of horsemen set forth to meet him at the boundary line of the State, and all the people left their business and gathered along the wayside to see him pass. Among these was Ernest. Though more than once disappointed, as we have seen, he had such a hopeful and confiding nature, that he was always ready to believe in whatever seemed beautiful and good. He kept his heart continually open, and thus was sure to catch the blessing from on high when it should come. So now again, as buoyantly as ever, he went forth to behold the likeness of the Great Stone Face.
The cavalcade came prancing153 along the road, with a great clattering154 of hoofs155 and a mighty cloud of dust, which rose up so dense156 and high that the visage of the mountain-side was completely hidden from Ernest’s eyes. All the great men of the neighborhood were there on horseback; militia157 officers, in uniform; the member of Congress; the sheriff of the county; the editors of newspapers; and many a farmer, too, had mounted his patient steed, with his Sunday coat upon his back. It really was a very brilliant spectacle, especially as there were numerous banners flaunting158 over the cavalcade, on some of which were gorgeous portraits of the illustrious statesman and the Great Stone Face, smiling familiarly at one another, like two brothers. If the pictures were to be trusted, the mutual159 resemblance, it must be confessed, was marvellous. We must not forget to mention that there was a band of music, which made the echoes of the mountains ring and reverberate160 with the loud triumph of its strains; so that airy and soul-thrilling melodies broke out among all the heights and hollows, as if every nook of his native valley had found a voice, to welcome the distinguished guest. But the grandest effect was when the far-off mountain precipice flung back the music; for then the Great Stone Face itself seemed to be swelling161 the triumphant163 chorus, in acknowledgment that, at length, the man of prophecy was come.
All this while the people were throwing up their hats and shouting with enthusiasm so contagious164 that the heart of Ernest kindled166 up, and he likewise threw up his hat, and shouted, as loudly as the loudest, “Huzza for the great man! Huzza for Old Stony Phiz!” But as yet he had not seen him.
“Here he is, now!” cried those who stood near Ernest. “There! There! Look at Old Stony Phiz and then at the Old Man of the Mountain, and see if they are not as like as two twin-brothers!”
In the midst of all this gallant167 array came an open barouche, drawn by four white horses; and in the barouche, with his massive head uncovered, sat the illustrious statesman, Old Stony Phiz himself.
“Confess it,” said one of Ernest’s neighbors to him, “the Great Stone Face has met its match at last!”
Now, it must be owned that, at his first glimpse of the countenance which was bowing and smiling from the barouche, Ernest did fancy that there was a resemblance between it and the old familiar face upon the mountain-side. The brow, with its massive depth and loftiness, and all the other features, indeed, were boldly and strongly hewn, as if in emulation168 of a more than heroic, of a Titanic model. But the sublimity169 and stateliness, the grand expression of a divine sympathy, that illuminated the mountain visage and etherealized its ponderous granite170 substance into spirit, might here be sought in vain. Something had been originally left out, or had departed. And therefore the marvellously gifted statesman had always a weary gloom in the deep caverns171 of his eyes, as of a child that has outgrown172 its playthings or a man of mighty faculties173 and little aims, whose life, with all its high performances, was vague and empty, because no high purpose had endowed it with reality.
Still, Ernest’s neighbor was thrusting his elbow into his side, and pressing him for an answer.
“Confess! confess! Is not he the very picture of your Old Man of the Mountain?”
“No!” said Ernest bluntly, “I see little or no likeness.”
“Then so much the worse for the Great Stone Face!” answered his neighbor; and again he set up a shout for Old Stony Phiz.
But Ernest turned away, melancholy174, and almost despondent175: for this was the saddest of his disappointments, to behold a man who might have fulfilled the prophecy, and had not willed to do so. Meantime, the cavalcade, the banners, the music, and the barouches swept past him, with the vociferous176 crowd in the rear, leaving the dust to settle down, and the Great Stone Face to be revealed again, with the grandeur177 that it had worn for untold178 centuries.
“Lo, here I am, Ernest!” the benign lips seemed to say. “I have waited longer than thou, and am not yet weary. Fear not; the man will come.”
The years hurried onward, treading in their haste on one another’s heels. And now they began to bring white hairs, and scatter86 them over the head of Ernest; they made reverend wrinkles across his forehead, and furrows179 in his cheeks. He was an aged180 man. But not in vain had he grown old: more than the white hairs on his head were the sage18 thoughts in his mind; his wrinkles and furrows were inscriptions181 that Time had graved, and in which he had written legends of wisdom that had been tested by the tenor182 of a life. And Ernest had ceased to be obscure. Unsought for, undesired, had come the fame which so many seek, and made him known in the great world, beyond the limits of the valley in which he had dwelt so quietly. College professors, and even the active men of cities, came from far to see and converse183 with Ernest; for the report had gone abroad that this simple husbandman had ideas unlike those of other men, not gained from books, but of a higher tone — a tranquil132 and familiar majesty184, as if he had been talking with the angels as his daily friends. Whether it were sage, statesman, or philanthropist, Ernest received these visitors with the gentle sincerity185 that had characterized him from boyhood, and spoke freely with them of whatever came uppermost, or lay deepest in his heart or their own. While they talked together, his face would kindle165, unawares, and shine upon them, as with a mild evening light. Pensive with the fulness of such discourse186, his guests took leave and went their way; and passing up the valley, paused to look at the Great Stone Face, imagining that they had seen its likeness in a human countenance, but could not remember where.
While Ernest had been growing up and growing old, a bountiful Providence had granted a new poet to this earth. He likewise, was a native of the valley, but had spent the greater part of his life at a distance from that romantic region, pouring out his sweet music amid the bustle187 and din26 of cities. Often, however, did the mountains which had been familiar to him in his childhood lift their snowy peaks into the clear atmosphere of his poetry. Neither was the Great Stone Face forgotten, for the poet had celebrated it in an ode, which was grand enough to have been uttered by its own majestic lips. This man of genius, we may say, had come down from heaven with wonderful endowments. If he sang of a mountain, the eyes of all mankind beheld a mightier grandeur reposing188 on its breast, or soaring to its summit, than had before been seen there. If his theme were a lovely lake, a celestial189 smile had now been thrown over it, to gleam forever on its surface. If it were the vast old sea, even the deep immensity of its dread190 bosom2 seemed to swell162 the higher, as if moved by the emotions of the song. Thus the world assumed another and a better aspect from the hour that the poet blessed it with his happy eyes. The Creator had bestowed191 him, as the last best touch to his own handiwork. Creation was not finished till the poet came to interpret, and so complete it.
The effect was no less high and beautiful, when his human brethren were the subject of his verse. The man or woman, sordid with the common dust of life, who crossed his daily path, and the little child who played in it, were glorified if he beheld them in his mood of poetic192 faith. He showed the golden links of the great chain that intertwined them with an angelic kindred; he brought out the hidden traits of a celestial birth that made them worthy193 of such kin1. Some, indeed, there were, who thought to show the soundness of their judgment194 by affirming that all the beauty and dignity of the natural world existed only in the poet’s fancy. Let such men speak for themselves, who undoubtedly195 appear to have been spawned196 forth by Nature with a contemptuous bitterness; she having plastered them up out of her refuse stuff, after all the swine were made. As respects all things else, the poet’s ideal was the truest truth.
The songs of this poet found their way to Ernest. He read them after his customary toil, seated on the bench before his cottage-door, where for such a length of time he had filled his repose with thought, by gazing at the Great Stone Face. And now as he read stanzas197 that caused the soul to thrill within him, he lifted his eyes to the vast countenance beaming on him so benignantly.
“O majestic friend,” he murmured, addressing the Great Stone Face, “is not this man worthy to resemble thee?”
The Face seemed to smile, but answered not a word.
Now it happened that the poet, though he dwelt so far away, had not only heard of Ernest, but had meditated198 much upon his character, until he deemed nothing so desirable as to meet this man, whose untaught wisdom walked hand in hand with the noble simplicity of his life. One summer morning, therefore, he took passage by the railroad, and, in the decline of the afternoon, alighted from the cars at no great distance from Ernest’s cottage. The great hotel, which had formerly been the palace of Mr. Gathergold, was close at hand, but the poet, with his carpet-bag on his arm, inquired at once where Ernest dwelt, and was resolved to be accepted as his guest.
Approaching the door, he there found the good old man, holding a volume in his hand, which alternately he read, and then, with a finger between the leaves, looked lovingly at the Great Stone Face.
“Good evening,” said the poet. “Can you give a traveller a night’s lodging199?”
“Willingly,” answered Ernest; and then he added, smiling, “Methinks I never saw the Great Stone Face look so hospitably200 at a stranger.”
The poet sat down on the bench beside him, and he and Ernest talked together. Often had the poet held intercourse201 with the wittiest202 and the wisest, but never before with a man like Ernest, whose thoughts and feelings gushed203 up with such a natural freedom, and who made great truths so familiar by his simple utterance204 of them. Angels, as had been so often said, seemed to have wrought with him at his labor in the fields; angels seemed to have sat with him by the fireside; and, dwelling205 with angels as friend with friends, he had imbibed the sublimity of their ideas, and imbued206 it with the sweet and lowly charm of household words. So thought the poet. And Ernest, on the other hand, was moved and agitated207 by the living images which the poet flung out of his mind, and which peopled all the air about the cottage-door with shapes of beauty, both gay and pensive. The sympathies of these two men instructed them with a profounder sense than either could have attained208 alone. Their minds accorded into one strain, and made delightful209 music which neither of them could have claimed as all his own, nor distinguished his own share from the other’s. They led one another, as it were, into a high pavilion of their thoughts, so remote, and hitherto so dim, that they had never entered it before, and so beautiful that they desired to be there always.
As Ernest listened to the poet, he imagined that the Great Stone Face was bending forward to listen too. He gazed earnestly into the poet’s glowing eyes.
“Who are you, my strangely gifted guest?” he said.
The poet laid his finger on the volume that Ernest had been reading.
“You have read these poems,” said he. “You know me, then — for I wrote them.”
Again, and still more earnestly than before, Ernest examined the poet’s features; then turned towards the Great Stone Face; then back, with an uncertain aspect, to his guest. But his countenance fell; he shook his head, and sighed.
“Wherefore are you sad?” inquired the poet.
“Because,” replied Ernest, “all through life I have awaited the fulfilment of a prophecy; and, when I read these poems, I hoped that it might be fulfilled in you.”
“You hoped,” answered the poet, faintly smiling, “to find in me the likeness of the Great Stone Face. And you are disappointed, as formerly with Mr. Gathergold, and Old Blood-and–Thunder, and Old Stony Phiz. Yes, Ernest, it is my doom210. You must add my name to the illustrious three, and record another failure of your hopes. For — in shame and sadness do I speak it, Ernest — I am not worthy to be typified by yonder benign and majestic image.”
“And why?” asked Ernest. He pointed152 to the volume. “Are not those thoughts divine?”
“They have a strain of the Divinity,” replied the poet. “You can hear in them the far-off echo of a heavenly song. But my life, dear Ernest, has not corresponded with my thought. I have had grand dreams, but they have been only dreams, because I have lived — and that, too, by my own choice — among poor and mean realities. Sometimes even — shall I dare to say it? — I lack faith in the grandeur, the beauty, and the goodness, which my own words are said to have made more evident in nature and in human life. Why, then, pure seeker of the good and true, shouldst thou hope to find me, in yonder image of the divine?”
The poet spoke sadly, and his eyes were dim with tears. So, likewise, were those of Ernest.
At the hour of sunset, as had long been his frequent custom, Ernest was to discourse to an assemblage of the neighboring inhabitants in the open air. He and the poet, arm in arm, still talking together as they went along, proceeded to the spot. It was a small nook among the hills, with a gray precipice behind, the stern front of which was relieved by the pleasant foliage211 of many creeping plants that made a tapestry212 for the naked rock, by hanging their festoons from all its rugged213 angles. At a small elevation214 above the ground, set in a rich framework of verdure, there appeared a niche215, spacious enough to admit a human figure, with freedom for such gestures as spontaneously accompany earnest thought and genuine emotion. Into this natural pulpit Ernest ascended216, and threw a look of familiar kindness around upon his audience. They stood, or sat, or reclined upon the grass, as seemed good to each, with the departing sunshine falling obliquely217 over them, and mingling218 its subdued219 cheerfulness with the solemnity of a grove220 of ancient trees, beneath and amid the boughs of which the golden rays were constrained221 to pass. In another direction was seen the Great Stone Face, with the same cheer, combined with the same solemnity, in its benignant aspect.
Ernest began to speak, giving to the people of what was in his heart and mind. His words had power, because they accorded with his thoughts; and his thoughts had reality and depth, because they harmonized with the life which he had always lived. It was not mere breath that this preacher uttered; they were the words of life, because a life of good deeds and holy love was melted into them. Pearls, pure and rich, had been dissolved into this precious draught222. The poet, as he listened, felt that the being and character of Ernest were a nobler strain of poetry than he had ever written. His eyes glistening223 with tears, he gazed reverentially at the venerable man, and said within himself that never was there an aspect so worthy of a prophet and a sage as that mild, sweet, thoughtful countenance, with the glory of white hair diffused about it. At a distance, but distinctly to be seen, high up in the golden light of the setting sun, appeared the Great Stone Face, with hoary224 mists around it, like the white hairs around the brow of Ernest. Its look of grand beneficence seemed to embrace the world.
At that moment, in sympathy with a thought which he was about to utter, the face of Ernest assumed a grandeur of expression, so imbued with benevolence225, that the poet, by an irresistible226 impulse, threw his arms aloft and shouted,“Behold! Behold! Ernest is himself the likeness of the Great Stone Face!”
Then all the people looked, and saw that what the deep-sighted poet said was true. The prophecy was fulfilled. But Ernest, having finished what he had to say, took the poet’s arm, and walked slowly homeward, still hoping that some wiser and better man than himself would by and by appear, bearing a resemblance to the GREAT STONE FACE.
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1
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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3
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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4
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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6
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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7
rivulet
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| n.小溪，小河 | |
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8
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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9
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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10
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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11
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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12
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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13
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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14
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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15
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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16
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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17
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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18
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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19
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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20
chaotic
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| adj.混沌的，一片混乱的，一团糟的 | |
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21
retracing
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| v.折回( retrace的现在分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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22
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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23
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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24
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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25
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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26
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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27
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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28
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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29
titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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30
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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31
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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32
forefathers
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| 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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33
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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34
purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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35
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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36
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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37
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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38
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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39
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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40
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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41
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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42
veneration
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| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
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43
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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44
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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45
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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46
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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47
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
seaport
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| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
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49
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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50
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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51
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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52
sifted
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| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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53
tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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54
effulgence
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| n.光辉 | |
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55
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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56
fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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57
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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59
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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60
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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61
rumored
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.传闻( rumor的过去式和过去分词 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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62
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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63
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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64
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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65
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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66
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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68
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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69
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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70
transparently
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| 明亮地，显然地，易觉察地 | |
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71
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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72
inured
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| adj.坚强的，习惯的 | |
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73
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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74
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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75
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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76
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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77
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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78
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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79
transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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82
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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83
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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84
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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85
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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86
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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87
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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88
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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89
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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90
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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91
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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92
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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93
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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94
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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95
rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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96
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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97
consigned
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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98
discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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99
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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100
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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101
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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102
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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103
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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104
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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105
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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106
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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107
sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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108
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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109
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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110
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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111
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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112
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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113
verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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114
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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115
profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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116
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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117
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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118
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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119
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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120
caper
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| v.雀跃，欢蹦；n.雀跃，跳跃；续随子，刺山柑花蕾；嬉戏 | |
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121
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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122
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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123
reverberating
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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124
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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125
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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126
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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127
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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128
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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129
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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130
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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131
vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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132
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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133
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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134
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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135
imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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136
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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137
manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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138
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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139
auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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140
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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141
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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142
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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143
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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144
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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145
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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146
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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147
potentates
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| n.君主，统治者( potentate的名词复数 )；有权势的人 | |
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148
presidency
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| n.总统(校长，总经理)的职位(任期) | |
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149
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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150
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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151
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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152
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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153
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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154
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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155
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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156
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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157
militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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158
flaunting
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|
| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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159
mutual
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|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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160
reverberate
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| v.使回响，使反响 | |
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161
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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162
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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163
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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164
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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165
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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166
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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167
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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168
emulation
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| n.竞争；仿效 | |
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169
sublimity
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| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
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170
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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171
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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172
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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173
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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174
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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175
despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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176
vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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177
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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178
untold
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| adj.数不清的，无数的 | |
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179
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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180
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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181
inscriptions
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| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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182
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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183
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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184
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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185
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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186
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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187
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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188
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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189
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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190
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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191
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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192
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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193
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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194
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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195
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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196
spawned
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| （鱼、蛙等）大量产（卵）( spawn的过去式和过去分词 )； 大量生产 | |
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197
stanzas
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| 节，段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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198
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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199
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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200
hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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201
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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202
wittiest
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| 机智的，言辞巧妙的，情趣横生的( witty的最高级 ) | |
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203
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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204
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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205
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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206
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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207
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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208
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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209
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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210
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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211
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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212
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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213
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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214
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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215
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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216
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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217
obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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218
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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219
subdued
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| 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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220
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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221
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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222
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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223
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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224
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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225
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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226
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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