We know not when it comes — we know it must come —
We may affect to scorn and to contemn1 it,
For ’tis the highest pride of human misery2
To say it knows not of an opiate;
Yet the reft parent, the despairing lover,
Even the poor wretch3 who waits for execution,
Feels this oblivion, against which he thought
His woes4 had arm’d his senses, steal upon him,
And through the fenceless citadel5 — the body —
Surprise that haughty6 garrison7 — the mind.
HERBERT.
Colonel Everard experienced the truth contained in the verses of the quaint8 old bard9 whom we have quoted above. Amid private grief, and anxiety for a country long a prey10 to civil war, and not likely to fall soon under any fixed11 or well-established form of government, Everard and his father had, like many others, turned their eyes to General Cromwell, as the person whose valour had made him the darling of the army, whose strong sagacity had hitherto predominated over the high talents by which he had been assailed12 in Parliament, as well as over his enemies in the field, and who was alone in the situation to settle the nation, as the phrase then went; or, in other words, to dictate13 the mode of government. The father and son were both reputed to stand high in the General’s favour. But Markham Everard was conscious of some particulars, which induced him to doubt whether Cromwell actually, and at heart, bore either to his father or to himself that good-will which was generally believed. He knew him for a profound politician, who could veil for any length of time his real sentiments of men and things, until they could be displayed without prejudice to his interest. And he moreover knew that the General was not likely to forget the opposition14 which the Presbyterian party had offered to what Oliver called the Great Matter — the trial, namely, and execution of the King. In this opposition, his father and he had anxiously concurred15, nor had the arguments, nor even the half-expressed threats of Cromwell, induced them to flinch16 from that course, far less to permit their names to be introduced into the commission nominated to sit in judgment17 on that memorable18 occasion.
This hesitation19 had occasioned some temporary coldness between the General and the Everards, father and son. But as the latter remained in the army, and bore arms under Cromwell both in Scotland, and finally at Worcester, his services very frequently called forth20 the approbation21 of his commander. After the fight of Worcester, in particular, he was among the number of those officers on whom Oliver, rather considering the actual and practical extent of his own power, than the name under which he exercised it, was with difficulty withheld22 from imposing23 the dignity of Knights-Bannerets at his own will and pleasure. It therefore seemed, that all recollection of former disagreement was obliterated25, and that the Everards had regained26 their former stronghold in the General’s affections. There were, indeed, several who doubted this, and who endeavoured to bring over this distinguished27 young officer to some other of the parties which divided the infant Commonwealth28. But to these proposals he turned a deaf ear. Enough of blood, he said, had been spilled — it was time that the nation should have repose29 under a firmly-established government, of strength sufficient to protect property, and of lenity enough to encourage the return of tranquillity30. This, he thought, could only be accomplished31 by means of Cromwell, and the greater part of England was of the same opinion. It is true, that, in thus submitting to the domination of a successful soldier, those who did so, forgot the principles upon which they had drawn32 the sword against the late King. But in revolutions, stern and high principles are often obliged to give way to the current of existing circumstances; and in many a case, where wars have been waged for points of metaphysical right, they have been at last gladly terminated, upon the mere33 hope of obtaining general tranquillity, as, after many a long siege, a garrison is often glad to submit on mere security for life and limb.
Colonel Everard, therefore, felt that the support which he afforded Cromwell, was only under the idea, that, amid a choice of evils, the least was likely to ensue from a man of the General’s wisdom and valour being placed at the head of the state; and he was sensible, that Oliver himself was likely to consider his attachment34 as lukewarm and imperfect, and measure his gratitude35 for it upon the same limited scale.
In the meanwhile, however, circumstances compelled him to make trial of the General’s friendship. The sequestration of Woodstock, and the warrant to the Commissioners36 to dispose of it as national property, had been long granted, but the interest of the elder Everard had for weeks and months deferred37 its execution. The hour was now approaching when the blow could be no longer parried, especially as Sir Henry Lee, on his side, resisted every proposal of submitting himself to the existing government, and was therefore, now that his hour of grace was passed, enrolled38 in the list of stubborn and irreclaimable malignants, with whom the Council of State was determined39 no longer to keep terms. The only mode of protecting the old knight24 and his daughter, was to interest, if possible, the General himself in the matter; and revolving40 all the circumstances connected with their intercourse41, Colonel Everard felt that a request, which would so immediately interfere43 with the interests of Desborough, the brother-inlaw of Cromwell, and one of the present Commissioners, was putting to a very severe trial the friendship of the latter. Yet no alternative remained.
With this view, and agreeably to a request from Cromwell, who at parting had been very urgent to have his written opinion upon public affairs, Colonel Everard passed the earlier part of the night in arranging his ideas upon the state of the Commonwealth, in a plan which he thought likely to be acceptable to Cromwell, as it exhorted44 him, under the aid of Providence45, to become the saviour46 of the state, by convoking47 a free Parliament, and by their aid placing himself at the head of some form of liberal and established government, which might supersede48 the state of anarchy49, in which the nation was otherwise likely to be merged50. Taking a general view of the totally broken condition of the Royalists, and of the various factions51 which now convulsed the state, he showed how this might be done without bloodshed or violence. From this topic he descended52 to the propriety53 of keeping up the becoming state of the Executive Government, in whose hands soever it should be lodged55, and thus showed Cromwell, as the future Stadtholder, or Consul56, or Lieutenant-General of Great Britain and Ireland, a prospect57 of demesne58 and residence becoming his dignity. Then he naturally passed to the disparking and destroying of the royal residences of England, made a woful picture of the demolition59 which impended60 over Woodstock, and interceded61 for the preservation62 of that beautiful seat, as a matter of personal favour, in which he found himself deeply interested.
Colonel Everard, when he had finished his letter, did not find himself greatly risen in his own opinion. In the course of his political conduct, he had till this hour avoided mixing up personal motives63 with his public grounds of action, and yet he now felt himself making such a composition. But he comforted himself, or at least silenced this unpleasing recollection, with the consideration, that the weal of Britain, studied under the aspect of the times, absolutely required that Cromwell should be at the head of the government; and that the interest of Sir Henry Lee, or rather his safety and his existence, no less emphatically demanded the preservation of Woodstock, and his residence there. Was it a fault of his, that the same road should lead to both these ends, or that his private interest, and that of the country, should happen to mix in the same letter? He hardened himself, therefore, to the act, made up and addressed his packet to the Lord-General, and then sealed it with his seal of arms. This done, he lay back in the chair; and, in spite of his expectations to the contrary, fell asleep in the course of his reflections, anxious and harassing64 as they were, and did not awaken65 until the cold grey light of dawn was peeping through the eastern oriel.
He started at first, rousing himself with the sensation of one who awakes in a place unknown to him; but the localities instantly forced themselves on his recollection. The lamp burning dimly in the socket66, the wood fire almost extinguished in its own white embers, the gloomy picture over the chimney-piece, the sealed packet on the table — all reminded him of the events of yesterday, and his deliberations of the succeeding night. “There is no help for it,” he said; “it must be Cromwell or anarchy. And probably the sense that his title, as head of the Executive Government, is derived67 merely from popular consent, may check the too natural proneness68 of power to render itself arbitrary. If he govern by Parliaments, and with regard to the privileges of the subject, wherefore not Oliver as well as Charles? But I must take measures for having this conveyed safely to the hands of this future sovereign prince. It will be well to take the first word of influence with him, since there must be many who will not hesitate to recommend counsels more violent and precipitate69.”
He determined to intrust the important packet to the charge of Wildrake, whose rashness was never so distinguished, as when by any chance he was left idle and unemployed70; besides, even if his faith had not been otherwise unimpeachable71, the obligations which he owed to his friend Everard must have rendered it such.
These conclusions passed through Colonel Everard’s mind, as, collecting the remains72 of wood in the chimney, he gathered them into a hearty73 blaze, to remove the uncomfortable feeling of dullness which pervaded74 his limbs; and by the time he was a little more warm, again sunk into a slumber75, which was only dispelled76 by the beams of morning peeping into his apartment.
He arose, roused himself, walked up and down the room, and looked from the large oriel window on the nearest objects, which were the untrimmed hedges and neglected walks of a certain wilderness77, as it is called in ancient treatises78 on gardening, which, kept of yore well ordered, and in all the pride of the topiary art, presented a succession of yew-trees cut into fantastic forms, of close alleys79, and of open walks, filling about two or three acres of ground on that side of the Lodge54, and forming a boundary between its immediate42 precincts and the open Park. Its enclosure was now broken down in many places, and the hinds80 with their fawns81 fed free and unstartled up to the very windows of the silvan palace.
This had been a favourite scene of Markham’s sports when a boy. He could still distinguish, though now grown out of shape, the verdant82 battlements of a Gothic castle, all created by the gardener’s shears83, at which he was accustomed to shoot his arrows; or, stalking before it like the Knight-errants of whom he read, was wont84 to blow his horn, and bid defiance85 to the supposed giant or Paynim knight, by whom it was garrisoned86. He remembered how he used to train his cousin, though several years younger than himself, to bear a part in those revels87 of his boyish fancy, and to play the character of an elfin page, or a fairy, or an enchanted88 princess. He remembered, too, many particulars of their later acquaintance, from which he had been almost necessarily led to the conclusion, that from an early period their parents had entertained some idea, that there might be a well-fitted match betwixt his fair cousin and himself. A thousand visions, formed in so bright a prospect, had vanished along with it, but now returned like shadows, to remind him of all he had lost — and for what? —“For the sake of England,” his proud consciousness replied — “Of England, in danger of becoming the prey at once of bigotry89 and tyranny.” And he strengthened himself with the recollection, “If I have sacrificed my private happiness, it is that my country may enjoy liberty of conscience, and personal freedom; which, under a weak prince and usurping90 statesman, she was but too likely to have lost.”
But the busy fiend in his breast would not be repulsed91 by the bold answer. “Has thy resistance,” it demanded, “availed thy country, Markham Everard? Lies not England, after so much bloodshed, and so much misery, as low beneath the sword of a fortunate soldier, as formerly92 under the sceptre of an encroaching prince? Are Parliament, or what remains of them, fitted to contend with a leader, master of his soldiers’ hearts, as bold and subtle as he is impenetrable in his designs! This General, who holds the army, and by that the fate of the nation in his hand, will he lay down his power because philosophy would pronounce it his duty to become a subject?”
He dared not answer that his knowledge of Cromwell authorised him to expect any such act of self-denial. Yet still he considered that in times of such infinite difficulty, that must be the best government, however little desirable in itself, which should most speedily restore peace to the land, and stop the wounds which the contending parties were daily inflicting93 on each other. He imagined that Cromwell was the only authority under which a steady government could be formed, and therefore had attached himself to his fortune, though not without considerable and recurring94 doubts, how far serving the views of this impenetrable and mysterious General was consistent with the principles under which he had assumed arms.
While these things passed in his mind, Everard looked upon the packet which lay on the table addressed to the Lord-General, and which he had made up before sleep. He hesitated several times, when he remembered its purport95, and in what degree he must stand committed with that personage, and bound to support his plans of aggrandizement96, when once that communication was in Oliver Cromwell’s possession.
“Yet it must be so,” he said at last, with a deep sigh. “Among the contending parties, he is the strongest — the wisest and most moderate — and ambitious though he be, perhaps not the most dangerous. Some one must be trusted with power to preserve and enforce general order, and who can possess or wield97 such power like him that is head of the victorious98 armies of England? Come what will in future, peace and the restoration of law ought to be our first and most pressing object. This remnant of a parliament cannot keep their ground against the army, by mere appeal to the sanction of opinion. If they design to reduce the soldiery, it must be by actual warfare99, and the land has been too long steeped in blood. But Cromwell may, and I trust will, make a moderate accommodation with them, on grounds by which peace may be preserved; and it is to this which we must look and trust for a settlement of the kingdom, alas100! and for the chance of protecting my obstinate101 kinsman102 from the consequences of his honest though absurd pertinacity103.”
Silencing some internal feelings of doubt and reluctance104 by such reasoning as this, Markham Everard continued in his resolution to unite himself with Cromwell in the struggle which was evidently approaching betwixt the civil and military authorities; not as the course which, if at perfect liberty, he would have preferred adopting, but as the best choice between two dangerous extremities105 to which the times had reduced him. He could not help trembling, however, when he recollected106 that his father, though hitherto the admirer of Cromwell, as the implement107 by whom so many marvels108 had been wrought109 in England, might not be disposed to unite with his interest against that of the Long Parliament, of which he had been, till partly laid aside by continued indisposition, an active and leading member. This doubt also he was obliged to swallow or strangle, as he might; but consoled himself with the ready argument, that it was impossible his father could see matters in another light than that in which they occurred to himself.
点击收听单词发音
1 contemn | |
v.蔑视 | |
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2 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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3 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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4 woes | |
困境( woe的名词复数 ); 悲伤; 我好苦哇; 某人就要倒霉 | |
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5 citadel | |
n.城堡;堡垒;避难所 | |
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6 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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7 garrison | |
n.卫戍部队;驻地,卫戍区;vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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8 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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9 bard | |
n.吟游诗人 | |
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10 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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11 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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12 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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13 dictate | |
v.口授;(使)听写;指令,指示,命令 | |
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14 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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15 concurred | |
同意(concur的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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16 flinch | |
v.畏缩,退缩 | |
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17 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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18 memorable | |
adj.值得回忆的,难忘的,特别的,显著的 | |
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19 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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20 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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21 approbation | |
n.称赞;认可 | |
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22 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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23 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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24 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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25 obliterated | |
v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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26 regained | |
复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 ); 赢回; 重回; 复至某地 | |
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27 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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28 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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29 repose | |
v.(使)休息;n.安息 | |
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30 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
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31 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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32 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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33 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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34 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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35 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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36 commissioners | |
n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 );长官;委员;政府部门的长官 | |
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37 deferred | |
adj.延期的,缓召的v.拖延,延缓,推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 );服从某人的意愿,遵从 | |
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38 enrolled | |
adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 );登记,招收,使入伍(或入会、入学等),参加,成为成员;记入名册;卷起,包起 | |
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39 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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40 revolving | |
adj.旋转的,轮转式的;循环的v.(使)旋转( revolve的现在分词 );细想 | |
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41 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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42 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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43 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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44 exhorted | |
v.劝告,劝说( exhort的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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46 saviour | |
n.拯救者,救星 | |
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47 convoking | |
v.召集,召开(会议)( convoke的现在分词 ) | |
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48 supersede | |
v.替代;充任 | |
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49 anarchy | |
n.无政府状态;社会秩序混乱,无秩序 | |
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50 merged | |
(使)混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 ); 相融; 融入; 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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51 factions | |
组织中的小派别,派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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52 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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53 propriety | |
n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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54 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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55 lodged | |
v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
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56 consul | |
n.领事;执政官 | |
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57 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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58 demesne | |
n.领域,私有土地 | |
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59 demolition | |
n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
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60 impended | |
v.进行威胁,即将发生( impend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61 interceded | |
v.斡旋,调解( intercede的过去式和过去分词 );说情 | |
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62 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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63 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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64 harassing | |
v.侵扰,骚扰( harass的现在分词 );不断攻击(敌人) | |
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65 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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66 socket | |
n.窝,穴,孔,插座,插口 | |
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67 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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68 proneness | |
n.俯伏,倾向 | |
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69 precipitate | |
adj.突如其来的;vt.使突然发生;n.沉淀物 | |
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70 unemployed | |
adj.失业的,没有工作的;未动用的,闲置的 | |
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71 unimpeachable | |
adj.无可指责的;adv.无可怀疑地 | |
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72 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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73 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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74 pervaded | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75 slumber | |
n.睡眠,沉睡状态 | |
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76 dispelled | |
v.驱散,赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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78 treatises | |
n.专题著作,专题论文,专著( treatise的名词复数 ) | |
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79 alleys | |
胡同,小巷( alley的名词复数 ); 小径 | |
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80 hinds | |
n.(常指动物腿)后面的( hind的名词复数 );在后的;(通常与can或could连用)唠叨不停;滔滔不绝 | |
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81 fawns | |
n.(未满一岁的)幼鹿( fawn的名词复数 );浅黄褐色;乞怜者;奉承者v.(尤指狗等)跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的第三人称单数 );巴结;讨好 | |
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82 verdant | |
adj.翠绿的,青翠的,生疏的,不老练的 | |
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83 shears | |
n.大剪刀 | |
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84 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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85 defiance | |
n.挑战,挑衅,蔑视,违抗 | |
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86 garrisoned | |
卫戍部队守备( garrison的过去式和过去分词 ); 派部队驻防 | |
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87 revels | |
n.作乐( revel的名词复数 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
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88 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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89 bigotry | |
n.偏见,偏执,持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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90 usurping | |
篡夺,霸占( usurp的现在分词 ); 盗用; 篡夺,篡权 | |
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91 repulsed | |
v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 );驳斥;拒绝 | |
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92 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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93 inflicting | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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94 recurring | |
adj.往复的,再次发生的 | |
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95 purport | |
n.意义,要旨,大要;v.意味著,做为...要旨,要领是... | |
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96 aggrandizement | |
n.增大,强化,扩大 | |
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97 wield | |
vt.行使,运用,支配;挥,使用(武器等) | |
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98 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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99 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
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100 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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101 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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102 kinsman | |
n.男亲属 | |
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103 pertinacity | |
n.执拗,顽固 | |
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104 reluctance | |
n.厌恶,讨厌,勉强,不情愿 | |
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105 extremities | |
n.端点( extremity的名词复数 );尽头;手和足;极窘迫的境地 | |
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106 recollected | |
adj.冷静的;镇定的;被回忆起的;沉思默想的v.记起,想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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107 implement | |
n.(pl.)工具,器具;vt.实行,实施,执行 | |
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108 marvels | |
n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 );令人惊奇的事物(或事例);不平凡的成果;成就v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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109 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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