If you could choose an hour of wakefulness out of the whole night, it would be this. Since your sober bedtime, at eleven, you have had rest enough to take off the pressure of yesterday’s fatigue11, while before you, till the sun comes from “Far Cathay” to brighten your window, there is almost the space of a summer night — one hour to be spent in thought with the mind’s eye half shut, and two in pleasant dreams, and two in that strangest of enjoyments12 the forgetfulness alike of joy and woe13. The moment of rising belongs to another period of time, and appears so distant that the plunge14 out of a warm bed into the frosty air cannot yet be anticipated with dismay. Yesterday has already vanished among the shadows of the past; tomorrow has not yet emerged from the future. You have found an intermediate space where the business of life does not intrude15, where the passing moment lingers and becomes truly the present; a spot where Father Time, when he thinks nobody is watching him, sits down by the wayside to take breath. Oh that he would fall asleep and let mortals live on without growing older!
Hitherto you have lain perfectly16 still, because the slightest motion would dissipate the fragments of your slumber. Now, being irrevocably awake, you peep through the half-drawn window-curtain, and observe that the glass is ornamented17 with fanciful devices in frost-work, and that each pane18 presents something like a frozen dream. There will be time enough to trace out the analogy while waiting the summons to breakfast. Seen through the clear portion of the glass where the silvery mountain-peaks of the frost-scenery do not ascend19, the most conspicuous20 object is the steeple, the white spire21 of which directs you to the wintry lustre22 of the firmament23. You may almost distinguish the figures on the clock that has just told the hour. Such a frosty sky and the snow-covered roofs and the long vista24 of the frozen street, all white, and the distant water hardened into rock, might make you shiver even under four blankets and a woollen comforter. Yet look at that one glorious star! Its beams are distinguishable from all the rest, and actually cast the shadow of the casement25 on the bed with a radiance of deeper hue26 than moonlight, though not so accurate an outline.
You sink down and muffle27 your head in the clothes, shivering all the while, but less from bodily chill than the bare idea of a polar atmosphere. It is too cold even for the thoughts to venture abroad. You speculate on the luxury of wearing out a whole existence in bed like an oyster28 in its shell, content with the sluggish29 ecstasy30 of inaction, and drowsily31 conscious of nothing but delicious warmth such as you now feel again. Ah! that idea has brought a hideous32 one in its train. You think how the dead are lying in their cold shrouds33 and narrow coffins35 through the drear winter of the grave, and cannot persuade your fancy that they neither shrink nor shiver when the snow is drifting over their little hillocks and the bitter blast howls against the door of the tomb. That gloomy thought will collect a gloomy multitude and throw its complexion36 over your wakeful hour.
In the depths of every heart there is a tomb and a dungeon37, though the lights, the music and revelry, above may cause us to forget their existence and the buried ones or prisoners whom they hide. But sometimes, and oftenest at midnight, those dark receptacles are flung wide open. In an hour like this, when the mind has a passive sensibility, but no active strength — when the imagination is a mirror imparting vividness to all ideas without the power of selecting or controlling them — then pray that your griefs may slumber and the brotherhood38 of remorse39 not break their chain. It is too late. A funeral train comes gliding40 by your bed in which passion and feeling assume bodily shape and things of the mind become dim spectres to the eye. There is your earliest sorrow, a pale young mourner wearing a sister’s likeness41 to first love, sadly beautiful, with a hallowed sweetness in her melancholy42 features and grace in the flow of her sable43 robe. Next appears a shade of ruined loveliness with dust among her golden hair and her bright garments all faded and defaced, stealing from your glance with drooping44 head, as fearful of reproach: she was your fondest hope, but a delusive45 one; so call her Disappointment now. A sterner form succeeds, with a brow of wrinkles, a look and gesture of iron authority; there is no name for him unless it be Fatality46 — an emblem47 of the evil influence that rules your fortunes, a demon48 to whom you subjected yourself by some error at the outset of life, and were bound his slave for ever by once obeying him. See those fiendish lineaments graven on the darkness, the writhed49 lip of scorn, the mockery of that living eye, the pointed50 finger touching51 the sore place in your heart! Do you remember any act of enormous folly52 at which you would blush even in the remotest cavern53 of the earth? Then recognize your shame.
Pass, wretched band! Well for the wakeful one if, riotously54 miserable55, a fiercer tribe do not surround him — the devils of a guilty heart that holds its hell within itself. What if Remorse should assume the features of an injured friend? What if the fiend should come in woman’s garments with a pale beauty amid sin and desolation, and lie down by your side? What if he should stand at your bed’s foot in the likeness of a corpse57 with a bloody58 stain upon the shroud34? Sufficient without such guilt56 is this nightmare of the soul, this heavy, heavy sinking of the spirits, this wintry gloom about the heart, this indistinct horror of the mind blending itself with the darkness of the chamber59.
By a desperate effort you start upright, breaking from a sort of conscious sleep and gazing wildly round the bed, as if the fiends were anywhere but in your haunted mind. At the same moment the slumbering embers on the hearth60 send forth61 a gleam which palely illuminates62 the whole outer room and flickers63 through the door of the bedchamber, but cannot quite dispel64 its obscurity. Your eye searches for whatever may remind you of the living world. With eager minuteness you take note of the table near the fireplace, the book with an ivory knife between its leaves, the unfolded letter, the hat and the fallen glove. Soon the flame vanishes, and with it the whole scene is gone, though its image remains65 an instant in your mind’s eye when darkness has swallowed the reality. Throughout the chamber there is the same obscurity as before, but not the same gloom within your breast.
As your head falls back upon the pillow you think — in a whisper be it spoken — how pleasant in these night solitudes66 would be the rise and fall of a softer breathing than your own, the slight pressure of a tenderer bosom67, the quiet throb68 of a purer heart, imparting its peacefulness to your troubled one, as if the fond sleeper69 were involving you in her dream. Her influence is over you, though she have no existence but in that momentary70 image. You sink down in a flowery spot on the borders of sleep and wakefulness, while your thoughts rise before you in pictures, all disconnected, yet all assimilated by a pervading71 gladsomeness and beauty. The wheeling of gorgeous squadrons that glitter in the sun is succeeded by the merriment of children round the door of a schoolhouse beneath the glimmering72 shadow of old trees at the corner of a rustic73 lane. You stand in the sunny rain of a summer shower, and wander among the sunny trees of an autumnal wood, and look upward at the brightest of all rainbows overarching the unbroken sheet of snow on the American side of Niagara. Your mind struggles pleasantly between the dancing radiance round the hearth of a young man and his recent bride and the twittering flight of birds in spring about their new-made nest. You feel the merry bounding of a ship before the breeze, and watch the tuneful feet of rosy74 girls as they twine75 their last and merriest dance in a splendid ball-room, and find yourself in the brilliant circle of a crowded theatre as the curtain falls over a light and airy scene.
With an involuntary start you seize hold on consciousness, and prove yourself but half awake by running a doubtful parallel between human life and the hour which has now elapsed. In both you emerge from mystery, pass through a vicissitude76 that you can but imperfectly control, and are borne onward77 to another mystery. Now comes the peal78 of the distant clock with fainter and fainter strokes as you plunge farther into the wilderness79 of sleep. It is the knell80 of a temporary death. Your spirit has departed, and strays like a free citizen among the people of a shadowy world, beholding81 strange sights, yet without wonder or dismay. So calm, perhaps, will be the final change — so undisturbed, as if among familiar things, the entrance of the soul to its eternal home.
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1
recollect
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v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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2
slumber
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n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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3
metaphor
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n.隐喻,暗喻 | |
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4
behold
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v.看,注视,看到 | |
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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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6
attain
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vt.达到,获得,完成 | |
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suspense
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n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
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slumbering
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微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式) | |
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9
murmur
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n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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10
gathering
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n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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11
fatigue
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n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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12
enjoyments
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愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 ); 令人愉快的事物; 享有; 享受 | |
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13
woe
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n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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14
plunge
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v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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intrude
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vi.闯入;侵入;打扰,侵扰 | |
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perfectly
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adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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17
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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pane
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n.窗格玻璃,长方块 | |
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19
ascend
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vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
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conspicuous
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adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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21
spire
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n.(教堂)尖顶,尖塔,高点 | |
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lustre
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n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
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23
firmament
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n.苍穹;最高层 | |
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24
vista
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n.远景,深景,展望,回想 | |
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casement
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n.竖铰链窗;窗扉 | |
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hue
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n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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muffle
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v.围裹;抑制;发低沉的声音 | |
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oyster
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n.牡蛎;沉默寡言的人 | |
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sluggish
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adj.懒惰的,迟钝的,无精打采的 | |
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30
ecstasy
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n.狂喜,心醉神怡,入迷 | |
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31
drowsily
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adv.睡地,懒洋洋地,昏昏欲睡地 | |
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32
hideous
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adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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33
shrouds
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n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 );寿衣;遮蔽物;覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 );保密 | |
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34
shroud
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n.裹尸布,寿衣;罩,幕;vt.覆盖,隐藏 | |
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35
coffins
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n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 );使某人早亡[死,完蛋,垮台等]之物 | |
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36
complexion
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n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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dungeon
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n.地牢,土牢 | |
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brotherhood
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n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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remorse
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n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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40
gliding
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v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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41
likeness
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n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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42
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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43
sable
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n.黑貂;adj.黑色的 | |
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44
drooping
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adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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45
delusive
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adj.欺骗的,妄想的 | |
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46
fatality
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n.不幸,灾祸,天命 | |
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emblem
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n.象征,标志;徽章 | |
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48
demon
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n.魔鬼,恶魔 | |
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49
writhed
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(因极度痛苦而)扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
pointed
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adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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51
touching
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adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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52
folly
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n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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53
cavern
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n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
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54
riotously
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adv.骚动地,暴乱地 | |
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55
miserable
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adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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56
guilt
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n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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57
corpse
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n.尸体,死尸 | |
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58
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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59
chamber
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n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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60
hearth
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n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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61
forth
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adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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62
illuminates
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v.使明亮( illuminate的第三人称单数 );照亮;装饰;说明 | |
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63
flickers
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电影制片业; (通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的名词复数 ) | |
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64
dispel
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vt.驱走,驱散,消除 | |
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65
remains
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n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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66
solitudes
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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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67
bosom
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n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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68
throb
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v.震颤,颤动;(急速强烈地)跳动,搏动 | |
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69
sleeper
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n.睡眠者,卧车,卧铺 | |
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70
momentary
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adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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71
pervading
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v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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72
glimmering
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n.微光,隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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73
rustic
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adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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74
rosy
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adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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75
twine
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v.搓,织,编饰;(使)缠绕 | |
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76
vicissitude
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n.变化,变迁,荣枯,盛衰 | |
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77
onward
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adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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78
peal
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n.钟声;v.鸣响 | |
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79
wilderness
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n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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80
knell
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n.丧钟声;v.敲丧钟 | |
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81
beholding
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v.看,注视( behold的现在分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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