Highways and cross-paths are hastily traversed, and, clambering down a crag, I find myself at the extremity21 of a long beach. How gladly does the spirit leap forth and suddenly enlarge its sense of being to the full extent of the broad blue, sunny deep! A greeting and a homage22 to the sea! I descend23 over its margin24 and dip my hand into the wave that meets me, and bathe my brow. That far-resounding roar is Ocean’s voice of welcome. His salt breath brings a blessing25 along with it. Now let us pace together — the reader’s fancy arm in arm with mine — this noble beach, which extends a mile or more from that craggy promontory26 to yonder rampart of broken rocks. In front, the sea; in the rear, a precipitous bank the grassy27 verge28 of which is breaking away year after year, and flings down its tufts of verdure upon the barrenness below. The beach itself is a broad space of sand, brown and sparkling, with hardly any pebbles30 intermixed. Near the water’s edge there is a wet margin which glistens31 brightly in the sunshine and reflects objects like a mirror, and as we tread along the glistening32 border a dry spot flashes around each footstep, but grows moist again as we lift our feet. In some spots the sand receives a complete impression of the sole, square toe and all; elsewhere it is of such marble firmness that we must stamp heavily to leave a print even of the iron-shod heel. Along the whole of this extensive beach gambols33 the surf-wave. Now it makes a feint of dashing onward34 in a fury, yet dies away with a meek35 murmur and does but kiss the strand36; now, after many such abortive37 efforts, it rears itself up in an unbroken line, heightening as it advances, without a speck38 of foam39 on its green crest40. With how fierce a roar it flings itself forward and rushes far up the beach!
As I threw my eyes along the edge of the surf I remember that I was startled, as Robinson Crusoe might have been, by the sense that human life was within the magic circle of my solitude. Afar off in the remote distance of the beach, appearing like sea-nymphs, or some airier things such as might tread upon the feathery spray, was a group of girls. Hardly had I beheld41 them, when they passed into the shadow of the rocks and vanished. To comfort myself — for truly I would fain have gazed a while longer — I made acquaintance with a flock of beach-birds. These little citizens of the sea and air preceded me by about a stone’s-throw along the strand, seeking, I suppose, for food upon its margin. Yet, with a philosophy which mankind would do well to imitate, they drew a continual pleasure from their toil42 for a subsistence. The sea was each little bird’s great playmate. They chased it downward as it swept back, and again ran up swiftly before the impending43 wave, which sometimes overtook them and bore them off their feet. But they floated as lightly as one of their own feathers on the breaking crest. In their airy flutterings they seemed to rest on the evanescent spray. Their images — long-legged little figures with gray backs and snowy bosoms44 — were seen as distinctly as the realities in the mirror of the glistening strand. As I advanced they flew a score or two of yards, and, again alighting, recommenced their dalliance with the surf-wave; and thus they bore me company along the beach, the types of pleasant fantasies, till at its extremity they took wing over the ocean and were gone. After forming a friendship with these small surf-spirits, it is really worth a sigh to find no memorial of them save their multitudinous little tracks in the sand.
When we have paced the length of the beach, it is pleasant and not unprofitable to retrace45 our steps and recall the whole mood and occupation of the mind during the former passage. Our tracks, being all discernible, will guide us with an observing consciousness through every unconscious wandering of thought and fancy. Here we followed the surf in its reflux to pick up a shell which the sea seemed loth to relinquish46. Here we found a seaweed with an immense brown leaf, and trailed it behind us by its long snake-like stalk. Here we seized a live horseshoe by the tail, and counted the many claws of that queer monster. Here we dug into the sand for pebbles, and skipped them upon the surface of the water. Here we wet our feet while examining a jelly-fish which the waves, having just tossed it up, now sought to snatch away again. Here we trod along the brink47 of a fresh-water brooklet48 which flows across the beach, becoming shallower and more shallow, till at last it sinks into the sand and perishes in the effort to bear its little tribute to the main. Here some vagary49 appears to have bewildered us, for our tracks go round and round and are confusedly intermingled, as if we had found a labyrinth51 upon the level beach. And here amid our idle pastime we sat down upon almost the only stone that breaks the surface of the sand, and were lost in an unlooked-for and overpowering conception of the majesty52 and awfulness of the great deep. Thus by tracking our footprints in the sand we track our own nature in its wayward course, and steal a glance upon it when it never dreams of being so observed. Such glances always make us wiser.
This extensive beach affords room for another pleasant pastime. With your staff you may write verses — love-verses if they please you best — and consecrate53 them with a woman’s name. Here, too, may be inscribed54 thoughts, feelings, desires, warm outgushings from the heart’s secret places, which you would not pour upon the sand without the certainty that almost ere the sky has looked upon them the sea will wash them out. Stir not hence till the record be effaced55. Now (for there is room enough on your canvas) draw huge faces — huge as that of the Sphynx on Egyptian sands — and fit them with bodies of corresponding immensity and legs which might stride halfway56 to yonder island. Child’s-play becomes magnificent on so grand a scale. But, after all, the most fascinating employment is simply to write your name in the sand. Draw the letters gigantic, so that two strides may barely measure them, and three for the long strokes; cut deep, that the record may be permanent. Statesmen and warriors57 and poets have spent their strength in no better cause than this. Is it accomplished58? Return, then, in an hour or two, and seek for this mighty59 record of a name. The sea will have swept over it, even as time rolls its effacing60 waves over the names of statesmen and warriors and poets. Hark! the surf-wave laughs at you.
Passing from the beach, I begin to clamber over the crags, making my difficult way among the ruins of a rampart shattered and broken by the assaults of a fierce enemy. The rocks rise in every variety of attitude. Some of them have their feet in the foam and are shagged halfway upward with seaweed; some have been hollowed almost into caverns61 by the unwearied toil of the sea, which can afford to spend centuries in wearing away a rock, or even polishing a pebble29. One huge rock ascends62 in monumental shape, with a face like a giant’s tombstone, on which the veins64 resemble inscriptions65, but in an unknown tongue. We will fancy them the forgotten characters of an antediluvian66 race, or else that Nature’s own hand has here recorded a mystery which, could I read her language, would make mankind the wiser and the happier. How many a thing has troubled me with that same idea! Pass on and leave it unexplained. Here is a narrow avenue which might seem to have been hewn through the very heart of an enormous crag, affording passage for the rising sea to thunder back and forth, filling it with tumultuous foam and then leaving its floor of black pebbles bare and glistening. In this chasm67 there was once an intersecting vein63 of softer stone, which the waves have gnawed68 away piecemeal69, while the granite70 walls remain entire on either side. How sharply and with what harsh clamor does the sea rake back the pebbles as it momentarily withdraws into its own depths! At intervals the floor of the chasm is left nearly dry, but anon, at the outlet71, two or three great waves are seen struggling to get in at once; two hit the walls athwart, while one rushes straight through, and all three thunder as if with rage and triumph. They heap the chasm with a snow-drift of foam and spray. While watching this scene I can never rid myself of the idea that a monster endowed with life and fierce energy is striving to burst his way through the narrow pass. And what a contrast to look through the stormy chasm and catch a glimpse of the calm bright sea beyond!
Many interesting discoveries may be made among these broken cliffs. Once, for example, I found a dead seal which a recent tempest had tossed into the nook of the rocks, where his shaggy carcase lay rolled in a heap of eel-grass as if the sea-monster sought to hide himself from my eye. Another time a shark seemed on the point of leaping from the surf to swallow me, nor did I wholly without dread73 approach near enough to ascertain74 that the man-eater had already met his own death from some fisherman in the bay. In the same ramble I encountered a bird — a large gray bird — but whether a loon75 or a wild goose or the identical albatross of the Ancient Mariner76 was beyond my ornithology78 to decide. It reposed79 so naturally on a bed of dry seaweed, with its head beside its wing, that I almost fancied it alive, and trod softly lest it should suddenly spread its wings skyward. But the sea-bird would soar among the clouds no more, nor ride upon its native waves; so I drew near and pulled out one of its mottled tail-feathers for a remembrance. Another day I discovered an immense bone wedged into a chasm of the rocks; it was at least ten feet long, curved like a scymitar, bejewelled with barnacles and small shellfish and partly covered with a growth of seaweed. Some leviathan of former ages had used this ponderous80 mass as a jaw-bone. Curiosities of a minuter order may be observed in a deep reservoir which is replenished81 with water at every tide, but becomes a lake among the crags save when the sea is at its height. At the bottom of this rocky basin grow marine77 plants, some of which tower high beneath the water and cast a shadow in the sunshine. Small fishes dart82 to and fro and hide themselves among the seaweed; there is also a solitary83 crab84 who appears to lead the life of a hermit, communing with none of the other denizens85 of the place, and likewise several five-fingers; for I know no other name than that which children give them. If your imagination be at all accustomed to such freaks, you may look down into the depths of this pool and fancy it the mysterious depth of ocean. But where are the hulks and scattered86 timbers of sunken ships? where the treasures that old Ocean hoards87? where the corroded88 cannon89? where the corpses90 and skeletons of seamen91 who went down in storm and battle?
On the day of my last ramble — it was a September day, yet as warm as summer — what should I behold92 as I approached the above-described basin but three girls sitting on its margin and — yes, it is veritably so — laving their snowy feet in the sunny water? These, these are the warm realities of those three visionary shapes that flitted from me on the beach. Hark their merry voices as they toss up the water with their feet! They have not seen me. I must shrink behind this rock and steal away again.
In honest truth, vowed93 to solitude as I am, there is something in this encounter that makes the heart flutter with a strangely pleasant sensation. I know these girls to be realities of flesh and blood, yet, glancing at them so briefly94, they mingle50 like kindred creatures with the ideal beings of my mind. It is pleasant, likewise, to gaze down from some high crag and watch a group of children gathering95 pebbles and pearly shells and playing with the surf as with old Ocean’s hoary beard. Nor does it infringe96 upon my seclusion to see yonder boat at anchor off the shore swinging dreamily to and fro and rising and sinking with the alternate swell97, while the crew — four gentlemen in roundabout jackets — are busy with their fishing-lines. But with an inward antipathy98 and a headlong flight do I eschew99 the presence of any meditative100 stroller like myself, known by his pilgrim-staff, his sauntering step, his shy demeanor101, his observant yet abstracted eye.
From such a man as if another self had scared me I scramble102 hastily over the rocks, and take refuge in a nook which many a secret hour has given me a right to call my own. I would do battle for it even with the churl103 that should produce the title-deeds. Have not my musings melted into its rocky walls and sandy floor and made them a portion of myself? It is a recess104 in the line of cliffs, walled round by a rough, high precipice105 which almost encircles and shuts in a little space of sand. In front the sea appears as between the pillars of a portal; in the rear the precipice is broken and intermixed with earth which gives nourishment106 not only to clinging and twining shrubs107, but to trees that grip the rock with their naked roots and seem to struggle hard for footing and for soil enough to live upon. These are fir trees, but oaks hang their heavy branches from above, and throw down acorns108 on the beach, and shed their withering109 foliage upon the waves. At this autumnal season the precipice is decked with variegated110 splendor111. Trailing wreaths of scarlet112 flaunt113 from the summit downward; tufts of yellow-flowering shrubs and rose-bushes, with their reddened leaves and glossy114 seed-berries, sprout115 from each crevice116; at every glance I detect some new light or shade of beauty, all contrasting with the stern gray rock. A rill of water trickles117 down the cliff and fills a little cistern118 near the base. I drain it at a draught119, and find it fresh and pure. This recess shall be my dining-hall. And what the feast? A few biscuits made savory120 by soaking them in sea-water, a tuft of samphire gathered from the beach, and an apple for the dessert. By this time the little rill has filled its reservoir again, and as I quaff121 it I thank God more heartily122 than for a civic123 banquet that he gives me the healthful appetite to make a feast of bread and water.
Dinner being over, I throw myself at length upon the sand and, basking124 in the sunshine, let my mind disport125 itself at will. The walls of this my hermitage have no tongue to tell my follies126, though I sometimes fancy that they have ears to hear them and a soul to sympathize. There is a magic in this spot. Dreams haunt its precincts and flit around me in broad sunlight, nor require that sleep shall blindfold127 me to real objects ere these be visible. Here can I frame a story of two lovers, and make their shadows live before me and be mirrored in the tranquil128 water as they tread along the sand, leaving no footprints. Here, should I will it, I can summon up a single shade and be myself her lover. — Yes, dreamer, but your lonely heart will be the colder for such fancies. — Sometimes, too, the Past comes back, and finds me here, and in her train come faces which were gladsome when I knew them, yet seem not gladsome now. Would that my hiding-place were lonelier, so that the Past might not find me! — Get ye all gone, old friends, and let me listen to the murmur of the sea — a melancholy129 voice, but less sad than yours. Of what mysteries is it telling? Of sunken ships and whereabouts they lie? Of islands afar and undiscovered whose tawny130 children are unconscious of other islands and of continents, and deem the stars of heaven their nearest neighbors? Nothing of all this. What, then? Has it talked for so many ages and meant nothing all the while? No; for those ages find utterance131 in the sea’s unchanging voice, and warn the listener to withdraw his interest from mortal vicissitudes132 and let the infinite idea of eternity133 pervade134 his soul. This is wisdom, and therefore will I spend the next half-hour in shaping little boats of driftwood and launching them on voyages across the cove72, with the feather of a sea-gull for a sail. If the voice of ages tell me true, this is as wise an occupation as to build ships of five hundred tons and launch them forth upon the main, bound to “Far Cathay.” Yet how would the merchant sneer135 at me!
And, after all, can such philosophy be true? Methinks I could find a thousand arguments against it. Well, then, let yonder shaggy rock mid-deep in the surf — see! he is somewhat wrathful: he rages and roars and foams136, — let that tall rock be my antagonist137, and let me exercise my oratory138 like him of Athens who bandied words with an angry sea and got the victory. My maiden-speech is a triumphant139 one, for the gentleman in seaweed has nothing to offer in reply save an immitigable roaring. His voice, indeed, will be heard a long while after mine is hushed. Once more I shout and the cliffs reverberate141 the sound. Oh what joy for a shy man to feel himself so solitary that he may lift his voice to its highest pitch without hazard of a listener! — But hush140! Be silent, my good friend! Whence comes that stifled142 laughter? It was musical, but how should there be such music in my solitude? Looking upward, I catch a glimpse of three faces peeping from the summit of the cliff like angels between me and their native sky. — Ah, fair girls! you may make yourself merry at my eloquence143, but it was my turn to smile when I saw your white feet in the pool. Let us keep each other’s secrets.
The sunshine has now passed from my hermitage, except a gleam upon the sand just where it meets the sea. A crowd of gloomy fantasies will come and haunt me if I tarry longer here in the darkening twilight144 of these gray rocks. This is a dismal145 place in some moods of the mind. Climb we, therefore, the precipice, and pause a moment on the brink gazing down into that hollow chamber146 by the deep where we have been what few can be — sufficient to our own pastime. Yes, say the word outright147: self-sufficient to our own happiness. How lonesome looks the recess now, and dreary148 too, like all other spots where happiness has been! There lies my shadow in the departing sunshine with its head upon the sea. I will pelt149 it with pebbles. A hit! a hit! I clap my hands in triumph, and see my shadow clapping its unreal hands and claiming the triumph for itself. What a simpleton must I have been all day, since my own shadow makes a mock of my fooleries!
Homeward! homeward! It is time to hasten home. It is time — it is time; for as the sun sinks over the western wave the sea grows melancholy and the surf has a saddened tone. The distant sails appear astray and not of earth in their remoteness amid the desolate150 waste. My spirit wanders forth afar, but finds no resting-place and comes shivering back. It is time that I were hence. But grudge151 me not the day that has been spent in seclusion which yet was not solitude, since the great sea has been my companion, and the little sea-birds my friends, and the wind has told me his secrets, and airy shapes have flitted around me in my hermitage. Such companionship works an effect upon a man’s character as if he had been admitted to the society of creatures that are not mortal. And when, at noontide, I tread the crowded streets, the influence of this day will still be felt; so that I shall walk among men kindly152 and as a brother, with affection and sympathy, but yet shall not melt into the indistinguishable mass of humankind. I shall think my own thoughts and feel my own emotions and possess my individuality unviolated.
But it is good at the eve of such a day to feel and know that there are men and women in the world. That feeling and that knowledge are mine at this moment, for on the shore, far below me, the fishing-party have landed from their skiff and are cooking their scaly153 prey154 by a fire of driftwood kindled155 in the angle of two rude rocks. The three visionary girls are likewise there. In the deepening twilight, while the surf is dashing near their hearth156, the ruddy gleam of the fire throws a strange air of comfort over the wild cove, bestrewn as it is with pebbles and seaweed and exposed to the “melancholy main.” Moreover, as the smoke climbs up the precipice, it brings with it a savory smell from a pan of fried fish and a black kettle of chowder, and reminds me that my dinner was nothing but bread and water and a tuft of samphire and an apple. Methinks the party might find room for another guest at that flat rock which serves them for a table; and if spoons be scarce, I could pick up a clam-shell on the beach. They see me now; and — the blessing of a hungry man upon him! — one of them sends up a hospitable157 shout: “Halloo, Sir Solitary! Come down and sup with us!” The ladies wave their handkerchiefs. Can I decline? No; and be it owned, after all my solitary joys, that this is the sweetest moment of a day by the seashore.
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1
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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5
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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10
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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glistens
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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abortive
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| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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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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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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45
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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46
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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48
brooklet
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| n. 细流, 小河 | |
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vagary
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| n.妄想，不可测之事，异想天开 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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51
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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52
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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53
consecrate
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| v.使圣化，奉…为神圣；尊崇；奉献 | |
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54
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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55
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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56
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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57
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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58
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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59
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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60
effacing
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| 谦逊的 | |
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61
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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62
ascends
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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63
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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64
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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65
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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66
antediluvian
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| adj.史前的，陈旧的 | |
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67
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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68
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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69
piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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70
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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71
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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72
cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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73
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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74
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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75
loon
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| n.狂人 | |
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76
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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77
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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78
ornithology
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| n.鸟类学 | |
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79
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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81
replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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82
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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83
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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84
crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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85
denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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86
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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87
hoards
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| n.（钱财、食物或其他珍贵物品的）储藏，积存( hoard的名词复数 )v.积蓄并储藏（某物）( hoard的第三人称单数 ) | |
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88
corroded
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| 已被腐蚀的 | |
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89
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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90
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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91
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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92
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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93
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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94
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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95
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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96
infringe
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| v.违反，触犯，侵害 | |
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97
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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98
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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99
eschew
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| v.避开，戒绝 | |
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100
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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101
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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102
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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103
churl
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| n.吝啬之人；粗鄙之人 | |
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104
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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105
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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106
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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107
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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108
acorns
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| n.橡子，栎实( acorn的名词复数 ) | |
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109
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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110
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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111
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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112
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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113
flaunt
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| vt.夸耀，夸饰 | |
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114
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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115
sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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116
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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117
trickles
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| n.细流( trickle的名词复数 )；稀稀疏疏缓慢来往的东西v.滴( trickle的第三人称单数 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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118
cistern
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| n.贮水池 | |
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119
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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120
savory
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| adj.风味极佳的，可口的，味香的 | |
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121
quaff
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| v.一饮而尽；痛饮 | |
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122
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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123
civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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124
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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125
disport
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| v.嬉戏，玩 | |
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126
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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127
blindfold
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| vt.蒙住…的眼睛；adj.盲目的；adv.盲目地；n.蒙眼的绷带[布等]； 障眼物，蒙蔽人的事物 | |
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128
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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129
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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130
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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131
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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132
vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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133
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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134
pervade
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| v.弥漫，遍及，充满，渗透，漫延 | |
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135
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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136
foams
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| n.泡沫，泡沫材料( foam的名词复数 ) | |
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137
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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138
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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139
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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140
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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141
reverberate
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| v.使回响，使反响 | |
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142
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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143
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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144
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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145
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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146
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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147
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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148
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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149
pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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150
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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151
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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152
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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153
scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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154
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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155
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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156
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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157
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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