There is always a feeling of uncanniness in speeding through an unknown town at night for the first time. Here at Luzo little white cottages flashed past us, a dim light flickered15 before a shrine16 at a street corner, a man dimly visible tinkled17 a bandurra a by the side of a grated window, little groups whispered mysteriously in the semi-darkness: they were all shadows to me, whilst I, poor waif, to them was nothing, for the clatter18 of the mules and the rattle14 of the carriage over the cobble stones were the only signs they had of the momentary19 presence of a man who, like a ship passing in the night, flitted in the darkness through the village which to them was life and death and all things. Our road lay ever upward. By the dim light of a waning20 moon one could see the trunks of great pines close together, and 92the soft moist air was heavily charged with the grateful balsamic scent21 of the trees. As we toiled23 patiently upward and still upward, in the darkness of the night the hush24 of the woods fell deeply upon us, for no breath of wind stirred the lofty tops that closed over us like an arch, and the summer night-birds had already taken flight farther south. Presently we passed through what in the dimness looked like an imposing25 architectural gateway26 set in a high wall, and then the wood grew perceptibly denser27. By the wayside the bank on the left rose sheer from the road covered with verdure, and one felt rather than saw that up and up, as it seemed infinitely29, the great trees towered higher and higher upon the steep slope, whilst on the right hand the huge eucalyptus30 trunks shining white through the blackness of the night, stood upon the brink31 of a precipitous drop, from which emerged now and again tree tops and a tumult32 of vegetation that showed, even though one saw but little of it, that we were in the midst of a luxuriant forest such as those I have seen on the Amazon and in Brazil, but never before in Europe.
Presently we drove into a circle of light, and one of the surprises of my life burst upon me. 93A palace so stately and beautiful, so new and spotless withal, as to seem like a scene from a fairy tale. But no—this flashing white dream in stone is no scenic33 illusion; the carved tracery, like petrified34 lace, and leaves, and branches, infinite in caprice and variety, the lovely cloistered36 terrace, the monumental staircase, and the almost insolent37 wealth and intricacy of sculptured ornament38, are all solid chiselled39 stone, and this splendid royal castle in the most wondrous40 wood in Europe is an ordinary hotel, or rather an extraordinary one run on ordinary lines.
The first instinct of a traveller when he lights upon such a find as this is to keep it to himself rather than diminish his enjoyment41 in the possession of his secret by sharing it with others; but Bussaco is big enough, and it would be ungenerous to hide it. It was built by the Portuguese42 Government, it is said, for a royal residence, and is hardly yet quite finished, for an annexe is now being constructed for the use of the royal family during their summer sojourn43, and some of the frescoes44 in the main castle are still to be added; but it is difficult to understand—unless the intention really was, as stated, to make the place a permanent royal residence—the 94reason for spending the vast sums of money that the place must have cost upon a house of public entertainment. However, there it stands, with its stately tower, its majestic45 carved staircase, and all its heraldic blazonry, in the midst of a crown domain46 seized from a Carmelite monastery47, probably the most beautiful hotel in Europe, certainly by far the best in the Peninsula; in an exquisite48 climate, with perfect sanitation49 and water, a good white wine grown on its own hillside, a cuisine50 with which no fault can reasonably be found, cleanliness, and order; a Swiss lessee51 who speaks English fluently and understands English needs, a bill of almost disconcerting moderation ... and the woods! For, after all, the hotel-palace, the golf-links, the tennis-lawn, the ballroom52, and all the rest of the added attractions of the place, are but subsidiary incidents to the terrestrial paradise that surrounds it, enclosed in its high granite53 wall six miles in circumference54.
Manueline Architecture at the Hotel, Bussaco
It was night when the gleaming salt-white palace first flashed upon me out of the darkness, but when I opened my shutters55 as the dawn was breaking the next morning, and stepped out upon the wide battlements of the castle, the scene 95before me was so wonderful as to force from me an involuntary prayer of praise and thankfulness to God that so much of beauty should be vouchsafed56 to my senses. Below and around me for miles on all sides stretched the woods, woods such as I have seen nowhere else in Europe, though the private gardens and plantations57 of Cintra and Monserrat approach them in luxuriant fertility. Great palms and towering cedars58 of Lebanon grow side by side with oaks of giant bulk: oranges and fig-trees, cork60 and acacia, maple61, birch, and willow62 stand beneath the straight eucalyptus, “tall as the mast of some great admiral”: araucarias spread their spiny63 branches with a luxuriance never seen at home, and mosses64, ivy65, and ferns clothe thickly every inch of ground, every bank, and even the time-worn stones, that all around testify to the existence of dwelling66 here long before the white palace raised its tall tower over the darkening wood.
Beyond the trees, on the fair morning I first beheld67 the scene, the shadow of twilight68 still lingered in the valleys and the horizon was veiled in mist, but already the sun was touching69 the mountain-tops all around. One range after another caught the golden light, and as far as the 96vision reached mountain succeeded mountain like mighty70 waves suddenly stayed in their onward sweep and turned into rosy71 rock. Here and there amidst the greenery, far below upon the plains, a white cottage, or the clustered red roofs of a village lit up the picture with a note of emphasis, and the sweet, cool air of the mountains, fresh with the scent of pine, eucalyptus, and wild flowers innumerable, came to the jaded72 town-dweller like a foretaste of some exquisite new sense to endow mankind in a fuller life to come.
Straight before me, as I stood upon the battlements looking towards the south, there rose as it seemed quite close a steep mountain slope clothed with a mass of verdure so thick as to look like a solid billowy surface of every tint73 of green, from tender primrose74 to deepest bronze. Here and there a straight pine or cedar59, more lofty than its fellows, caught with its feathery top a glinting sun-ray and held it, whilst high up, almost overhead, upon a rocky spur emerging from the foliage75 there stood a humble76 hermitage, and on the very summit, looking so inaccessible77 that no human foot could reach it, a little white tower of another hermitage reared its cross over all.
FROM THE BATTLEMENT, BUSSACO.
97On the right hand, as one looked down over the battlements, the pretty gardens of the palace, with flowers and palms, are spread at the foot, whilst, resting humbly78 under the shadow of the palace, is the ancient church and the tiny monastery, which for centuries housed the silent Trappists, whose loving care made this holy wood to grow upon the spurs and glens of a granite mountain. Beyond the garden, the wood slopes suddenly down in billows of greenery, and then at its foot spreads the vast plain, with towns and villages nestling in its hollows. And as the sun grows in brightness I see beyond the limits of the plain, far away, a long strip of white, and over it, high up, as it seems above the horizon, a deep violet wall. It is the sea, the broad Atlantic, with its fringe of silvery sand many miles distant, and it gives the supreme79 touch to a scene of perfect beauty. On the other side of the castle the view is just as lovely in a different way. Beyond the palms and flowers at the foot, seen over a hundred carved crockets and capricious stone pinnacles80 and gargoyles81, with the great tower of the castle and its armillary sphere over all, is a far stretch of undulating wood; and then a vast tumble of mountains, range over range, all but the highest 98clothed to the top with forests, and beyond and above them all the bare granite peaks of the Caramulo range, iridescent82 now with the morning sun. The domain occupies the whole of the north-western end of a long continuous mountain ridge83, some eight miles in total length, running from south-east to north-west and extremely precipitous on all sides. From the earliest times, at all events since the fourth century, the glens and ravines that score these slopes have been jealously guarded by ecclesiastical masters. The sheltered position and soft westerly breezes from the Atlantic endowed the spot with a climate mild, equable, and healthy, even for Portugal, whilst the purity and abundance of the springs and the marvellous fertility of the soil in the deep, moist gorges84 on the mountain-side made it an enviable place of secluded85 residence. Whilst the minimum winter temperature is about forty degrees, frost being unknown, the summer heat is tempered by the altitude of the place and by the abundant shade of the woods, so that the temperature rarely exceeds that of a warm July day in England.
With these climatic conditions it is natural that this end of the ridge, protected on all sides, 99should develop a vegetation of extraordinary luxuriance. So remarkably86 was this the case that the successive ecclesiastical bodies to which it belonged for fifteen hundred years decreed that the woods were for ever to be held sacred as a place of sanctuary87 and devotion. From the eleventh century onward the domain belonged to the Archbishops of Braga, and in 1626 one of them granted it to the order of shoeless Carmelites, as a retreat remote from the world, where the monks90 following the strict Trappist rule might meditate91 in silence undisturbed by the turmoil92 of their fellow-men. In poverty, and with the hard labour of their own hands, the monks built the little monastery and humble church as they now stand, with other portions since demolished93; and, year by year, for two hundred years, planted and tended with devout94 care the sacred wood which was their one earthly concern. From all quarters of the globe where the Portuguese flag waved, from India, South America, and the Far East, rare plants and trees were sent by Carmelites to their beloved “Matto de Bussaco.” Medicinal herbs, rare and lovely ferns, and exotic fruit and flowers, impossible in other places in Europe, here grew luxuriantly, 100and the silent, white-robed gardeners planted and tended their domain until it became not a wood but a sylvan95 garden of surpassing beauty, as it remains96 to-day.
A high wall shuts it in from the rest of the world, whilst a special Bull of Urban VIII., deeply cut to this day upon a great slab97 on the principal gateway, condemned98 to major excommunication any person who violated the sanctuary or injured any plant within the sacred precincts; and another papal Bull bans any woman who dares to set her foot upon the domain. Beautiful terraced paths were cut upon the hillsides, and zigzagging99 down the ravines, fountains that gushed100 spontaneously from the mossy rocks were dedicated101 to saints and adorned102 with sculptured shrines103 or rustic104 grottoes. Everything that single-hearted toil22 and devotional spirit could do, for centuries the shoeless Carmelites did for their remote monastery and the fairy glens of Bussaco; and since the abolition105 of the monastic orders in Portugal, the Government have tended and guarded the spot as carefully as the silent monks before them. One trembles for each innovation in such a spot as this, and the present road-cutting operations through the wood and 101just around the palace, though the new approaches will doubtless add to the accessibility of the place, cannot fail to injure somewhat its sylvan beauty; just as the building of the palace itself, and especially of the new annexe now in course of construction, further dwarfs106 and hides the quaint107 little monastery, which really seems to strike the note harmonious108 with the place.
To describe in detail the beauties of Bussaco is impossible in the space at my disposal, but one ramble109 amongst many may be cited as an example of the effect produced by them upon an appreciative110 visitor. The sky was the deep, lustrous111, sapphire112 blue of which Portugal alone seems to hold the secret, and the fierce sunlight, held in check by the lofty canopy113 of leaves, just dappled with golden tesselation the steep path up which I wandered from the palace door. On each side of the well-kept walk stood low stone walls, a mass of brilliant emerald, clothed, as they were, with long trailing mosses and tender fronds114 of ferns innumerable. Autumn as yet had done nothing to braise and brand the greenness of summer; for in this favoured spot the seasons make but slight difference in the vegetation. Verdant115 glades116 and dim recesses117 of sea-green 102shadow open up at every turn in the winding119 path; domed120 masses of foliage above and below on the steep sides of the glen seem like the silent naves121 and aisles122 of vast cathedrals. To say that the air was like wine is a commonplace. This was primeval air, the breath of a myriad123 trees and sweet health-giving plants, inhaled124 upon a mountain top overlooking the boundless125 sea. Not like wine grossly made by man was this, but like some vital elixir126 distilled127 in a magician’s laboratory, bringing new life and vigour128, with a sensuous129 joy added by the spirit of the place and the soft warmth of the shaded sun.
Towering eucalyptus trees, the fawn-coloured bark hanging in long loose strips and showing the silver skin beneath, alternated with pied planes and feathery palms. Pines and cedars of Lebanon, and a score of trees one knows not by name, tower over all, their great trunks (I measured one cedar twenty feet round), clothed at foot by a dense28 undergrowth of flowering plants. Large camellia trees, agaves and magnolias full of bloom, the big white pendent flower of the datura, the pink and blue masses of hydrangea, and the glistening130 foliage of orange trees, lit up the shadowy slopes overhung by the dense foliage of the forest; and trails of smilax, and I know not what other verdant creepers hung in festoons from branch to branch.
THE HOTEL, BUSSACO, FROM THE WOODS.
103At the top of the path a moss-grown cross at the foot of a flight of broken stone steps, hard by a crumbling131 archway, marks the beginning of one of the several pilgrimages of the Cross scattered132 through the woods, a lichen-covered slab upon the cross recording133 that: “These two hermitages of the pilgrimage of the Cross were built by order of the Illustrious Jo?o de Melo, Bishop88 and Count, in the year 1694.” The little hermitages stand almost intact, though their thick walls are all overgrown with bright mosses and reaching arms of verdure. Passing beneath the archway, shadowed by a mighty cedar, I find myself at the foot of this Via Sacra, a steep ascent134 with green and crumbling steps before each open shrine of the Passion every hundred yards or so. The shrines, little quaint square buildings, with the window-like opening breast high, and a kneeling-stone before each, are all dismantled135 and empty now; though with their cloak of foliage and ferns and their lichen-clothed slabs136 telling the 104scene of the sacred Passion which used to be exhibited inside, they are perhaps more beautiful so than ever they were. Weeks after, when I saw at Caldas, in course of construction, some very fine sacred groups in enamelled earthenware137, the figures half life-size, and was told that these scenes of the Passion were intended by the Government for the restoration of the shrines at Bussaco, I breathed a silent hope that, though the groups might be replaced, no attempt would be made to restore to newness the shrines themselves.
As one trod the old path of the pilgrimage, up mossy steps and past despoiled138 shrines, with glimpses of sunlit glades and shady green dells, it was impossible to shut away from one’s thoughts those generations of silent white-clad figures, who, shoeless, had toiled so often up the Via Dolorosa, with tears of penitence139, perhaps agonies of regret, for the life from which they had fled. All around were relics140 of their unrecorded labour. Sculptured stones, chapels141, hermitages, fountains, grottoes, and shrines were all built by their patient hands; paths scarped on steep hillsides, seats placed in quiet nooks for the meditative143 and the weary, nay144, the trees and plants from all lands growing so proudly now had all been tended anxiously by the same dumb shadows that for centuries waited for death within the walls enclosing the sacred wood. If ever a place was haunted by sad, harmless ghosts, these paths of pilgrimage at Bussaco must still be thronged145 by the white-robed phantoms146 of those who made them.
On the Via Sacra, Bussaco.
105Turning aside and descending148 the glen by a narrower path, a ramble of half a mile brings me to another scene of marvellous beauty. In the foreground is a pool covered with water lilies and overshadowed by trees; and from it, leading straight up the hillside, is the “holy stair,” or cold spring, as it is called. Eleven double flights of stone stairs, each pair of flights leading to a landing of black and white mosaic149, whilst in the centre between the two lines of steps a rocky cataract150 leads a rushing stream of icy cold clear water from the fountain gushing151 at the top from the rock in its mosaic recess118 down to the bottom of the hill, where it tumbles tumultuously into the pool. Through the whole length of the long fall, flanked by stairs, perhaps two hundred 106feet, rare ferns and mosses grow with wild luxuriance, especially in and about the pools on the ten landings; and, embosomed as the whole hillside is in dense greenery, it is impossible to exaggerate the delicious coolness and beauty of this secluded spot.
From the top of the Fonte Fria, or Scala Santa, the path leads through a valley, and then precipitously up the ascent that faced me when on the morning after my arrival I stood upon the battlements for the first time. The hermitage of St. Ant?o stands upon a ledge152 high up the slope, a tiny dismantled cell, from which a view is gained on a clear day that fairly takes one’s breath away. Below, set in its vast bed of verdure, the white stone castle stands, the gold armillary sphere that crowns its tower glittering in the sun; whilst on the left the far-flung panorama153 of the plain, with the blue wall of the sea beyond, and the grey mountains on the north, is flooded with an inundation154 of light, and scattered with the abodes156 of men—the sombre masses of greenery and the profound silence that surround us making the contrast the more striking. A wider view still than this is obtained from the highest point of the domain, on the very outskirts157 towards the south, where the Cruz Alta, the “high cross,” marks the site of what in ancient times was a watch-tower of soldier-monks, overlooking the country towards Coimbra, whence the Moors158 might come to invade the sacred wood.
IN THE GARDENS, BUSSACO.
107A greater battle than ever Christian159 and Moslem160 fought raged in later times upon this “Bussaco’s iron ridge,” just outside the granite walls of the wood on the north-west slopes of the long mountain. “Victory’s darling,” Massena, was to bring stubborn Portugal to heel at last. Soult had been expelled in 1809, after Wellington’s surprise of Oporto; and the Emperor was determined161 that nothing should stand between him and his small victim this time. Massena was at the height of his glory and success, and the flower of the imperial legions, eighty thousand men, marched through Spain, and carried all before him at first in Portugal. Almeida and Vizeu fell into his hands without a struggle; and the invaders162 thought that no serious obstacle would be offered to the march upon Lisbon by way of Coimbra. The road led them through the valley between 108the long mountains of Bussaco and the Cremullo range opposite, and Wellington, whose headquarters were at Coimbra, fifteen miles distant, decided164 to stop their progress there. Before the whole of his forces could be got into position, news came that the French had crossed the river Mondego, and the Anglo-Portuguese force gradually fell back, always fighting with the French advance-guard, until the whole of Wellington’s army of nearly 50,000 were stationed upon the long ridge of Bussaco, from the east wall of the domain to the river Mondego, where the mountain ends.
A curious relation exists, hitherto unnoted in English narratives165, in which a monk89 of Bussaco gives a minute account from day to day of the events there from the 20th September 1810 until after the battle on the 27th, and the artless details of the good man are more personally interesting perhaps than the broad facts of the great battle itself. He tells that, on the 20th September, an orderly of Lord Wellington came to the monastery, and: “As soon as the door was opened to him he said, ‘I want to see the monastery, ha! ha! ha! To-morrow at two o’clock the commander-in-chief is coming here. He slept last night at Lorv?o, and the French have already arrived at Tondella....’ The prior was told, and he showed the orderly the monastery and chapel142, ordering the best lodging166-chamber to be cleaned and got ready for the general, and the orderly, after drinking a little wine, galloped167 back to Lorv?o.”
THE PORTA DA SULLA, BUSSACO.
109Early next morning the whole wood, the hermitages, the monastery, and the chapel were filled with English officers, fifty officers being quartered in the monastery itself. Wellington arrived at midday, and when the prior showed him the best guest-chamber, swept and garnished168 for his use, he refused it, “although it was the best,” because it had only one door, and another apartment with two doors had to be found for him. Whilst this lodging was being prepared and cleaned, the general rode out of the domain by the gate on the north side and inspected the whole position from the highest point of the ridge to the east, on the bare granite crest169 of which he fixed170 his own position for the day of the battle. Standing171 upon this spot there spreads below the steep slopes in the foreground an undulating plain, some five miles across, with Caramulo mountains on the other side. Through 110this broken plain Massena was forced to march in order to turn or cross the Bussaco mountains, and proceed on his road to Coimbra, Lisbon, and Oporto. When he learnt that the English general had decided to risk everything by making a stand there with forces inferior to his own he at first refused to believe it, for constant success had made him think that his troops could do anything; and if Wellington were beaten here, then annihilation would await the English, and Portugal would follow Spain in bowing to the yoke172 of France. But if Wellington does take the risk, said Massena, “Je le tiens! demain nous finirons la conquête de Portugal, et en un pen de jours je noyerai le léopard.” Ney, Junot, and Regnier in vain counselled Massena not to fling his men away upon attacking such a tremendous position as that of Bussaco, and urged him to retire and await reinforcements from France; but Massena laughed at their wise fears, and decided to storm the height. “There is only the rearguard of the English there,” he said; “if the whole army is there so much the better, the good luck of the darling of victory will not abandon him.”
Every cell and every corner of the monastery and dependencies were full of English troops, 111“except Father Antonio of the Angels’ cell, which no one would have, as it was filled with all sorts of old rags, rubbish, and old iron he could pick up, and the monks had to sleep anywhere.” On the 26th September the French were seen on the mountains opposite and upon the plain below, where skirmishing was constant between advance-guards. The north-east wall of the domain was partly demolished and crowded with English troops, whilst batteries of artillery173 topped the crest of the ridge, and Crawford’s corps174 held an outlying spur that projects into the plain from opposite the north gate (Porta da Rainha) of the wood. Lord Wellington rose very early on the morning of the 27th, and to the dismay of the monks ordered his baggage to be sent out of the wood towards Coimbra. It was not for flight, as the monks feared, but prudence175, and after breakfast the great general rode out and took his stand upon the top of the ridge of Bussaco, overlooking the long valley. His own troops were to a large extent hidden behind the crest of the hill, and occupied the whole length of the mountain from beyond the Mondego on the north-east to the monastery on the west, Crawford’s position on the projecting spur on 112the English left flank making the position at that end practically semicircular; this left flank consequently enfiladed with its artillery the face of the declivity176 upon whose crest Wellington’s centre was stationed. On the extreme right of the English, on the other side of the Mondego, General Hill was in command, with the Portuguese under General Fane; but the whole of the rest of the Anglo-Portuguese army was posted upon or behind the long crest of Bussaco, the extreme left under General Crawford being thrust forward upon the projecting spur. At six o’clock on the morning of the 27th September, under cover of a heavy mist, two desperate attacks were delivered upon the centre of the English position. That on the right of the centre was led by Regnier with incredible dash and bravery, but with terrible loss to the French. A whole division of Frenchmen at one point here finally struggled to the summit of the ridge, and the eagles planted on the granite crest proclaimed to Massena that the victory was won. But the 88th and 45th regiments177 were in reserve behind the crest, and at the captured position gallant178 Picton was in command. Like an avalanche179 the two regiments, with a Portuguese battalion180, advanced along the ridge with fixed bayonets at the charge. With irresistible181 impetus182 they swept all before them. The French division was hurled183 helter-skelter down the precipitous declivity with hideous184 ruin and devastation185. All the face of Bussaco at that point was sown with the dead and dying, the French loss exceeding four thousand, and the legions of the Darling of Victory experienced the bitterness of their first defeat. This awful carnage took place at some little distance to the right of where Wellington stood on the summit of the ridge though well within sight, and a similar attempt, but with even less success was made still nearer to him on his left; whilst a stubborn and sanguinary struggle took place upon the spur on the extreme English left occupied by Crawford and Packe, upon one point of which now stands the obelisk186 commemorating187 the battle.
BUSSACO’S IRON RIDGE.
113The English and Portuguese under English officers vied with each other in stubborn bravery, and the moral result of Bussaco was tremendous, though the material advantage was small. From that hour of defeat the legions of the Emperor knew that they were not invincible188, and the sun that was to set at Waterloo first turned its 114meridian when Massena’s gallant infantry189 were hurled headlong down the hill. By a masterly piece of strategy Wellington, the day after the victory, sent off a division to occupy Coimbra, and when defeated Massena by a circuitous190 route arrived in the neighbourhood of the city he found himself forestalled191, though the English shortly after evacuated192 it and fell back. The lines of Torres Vedras finally frustrated193 the French, but Bussaco was the turning-point of victory.
The monkish194 diarist has many poignant195 little stories to tell of the horrors into which the monastery was plunged196 during and after the battle. The wounded were everywhere, but were packed especially close in the little unfinished chapel outside the walls of the wood opposite Crawford’s position, now a commemorative chapel where many relics of the fight are shown.
At midnight on the 28th an English officer hurried to the monastery and reported that Massena was retreating and endeavouring to reach Coimbra by another road. The night was dark and the rain fell heavily, but Wellington rose from his bed, and at once gave orders for the English army to march upon Coimbra. Like 115magic the monastery and wood—even the great mountain itself—was freed from armed men, and before midday nothing was left but the débris of battle and the dead and wounded. The monk who tells his simple tale says that they managed to give beds in the monastery to most of the English officers during their stay, “and a general who was in the bishop’s chapel had a tablecloth197, two brass198 candlesticks, and a great copper199 jar for water, and also some napkins. All of this,” he adds, “was lost.” “To Lord Wellington,” he continues, “we gave the best napkins we had, four dozens of candles, and everything that the other officers were continually asking for. Even to the common soldiers and the people who came for refuge, we gave salt and all we could. We gave out a lot of wine, bread, cheese, oil, and other things for the troops, and when Lord Wellington was leaving he sent word to the prior that he would pay for what had been supplied, if he would tell him the amount. The prior replied that he asked for nothing but peace. This monastery of ours lost very heavily by the troops. Nearly everything we provided for the beds and tables of the officers disappeared, and not a thing of any value was 116left.... Besides this they stole all the oranges in our two orchards200, they forced the door of the storehouse and took all the bread and wine they chose, with a basket of eggs, and a comb of honey, and many other things. Indeed they acted just as badly or worse than the French.”
And so, after the short agony, the wave of war and horror swept away from Bussaco, leaving only the memory behind; and the sacred wood was abandoned to the white-robed monks:—
“The Carmelite, who in his cell recluse201
Was wont202 to sit, and from a skull203 receive
Death’s silent lesson, wheresoe’er he walked,
Henceforth may find his teacher. He shall see
The Frenchman’s bones in glen and grove204, on rock
And height where’er the wolves and carrion205 birds
Have strewn them, washed in torrents206 bare and bleached207
By sun and rain, and by the winds of Heaven.”
THE BATTLE MONUMENT, BUSSACO.
It is all forgotten now, and nothing matters much, I mused208, as I wandered up the dark avenue of cypress209, yew210, and pine that leads to the low three-arched fa?ade of the old monastery. Before the quaint little one-storey porch, faced with designs of coats-of-arms, flowers, and scrolls212 in black and white mosaic, stands an ancient cross, and within the entrance is the tiny cloister35 and 117church that alone remains of the monastery. I wandered into the dim cloister full of thoughts of Bussaco’s baptism of blood, though it was all quiet and peaceful now in this humble retreat. At each corner of the cloister stands a dismantled altar, faced with coloured tiles of Talavera majolica, and the walls between the windows are hung with mouldering213 and tattered214 canvases of dead and gone Carmelites—saintly men whose bones lie beneath our feet and in the little green enclosure formed by the cloister. Around the walls on three sides are the doors of the cells, each door covered, as are the timbers of the cloister, with rough cork bark, which adds to the appearance of antiquity215. One picture attracted my attention, a poor defaced painting, faded by time and weather, representing at full length a white-clad monk holding a skull in his left hand, and in his right a scroll211. Something noble and dignified216 in the appearance of the face attracted me, and I tried to decipher the almost effaced217 inscription218 on the scroll. It was difficult, but at last I read that the monk was the “Reverend Father, Fray219 Luis de Jesus,” who in the world had been called the Marquis of Mancera, when the seventeenth century was 118young. And beneath the name this distich ran:—
“A morte me fas deixar
O que me podia danar.”
As I pondered on this curious couplet, “Death makes me leave What might me grieve,” in the shadowy cloister, there came towards me a phantom147 of the past. It was an old, old man dressed in brown undyed homespun, short jacket, and breeches of a bygone fashion, and the universal black knitted stocking nightcap of the Portuguese peasant. He hobbled out of the cell where the great duke had slept the nights before the battle; and as he came slowly towards me, supported by a long staff, he courteously220 doffed221 his cap, and wished me good day. He was, he told me, ninety-three years old, but his eyes were still bright and his skin clear, and I fell into discourse222 with the ancient, as we rested together upon a bench in the darkling cloister, through the end door of which a bright splash of orange sunlight sent shimmering223 waves into the dimness.
Yes! gra?as à Deus, he was well, notwithstanding his great age, and he dwelt, past work now, with his son, a sort of foreman on the domain, in the double cell which had been that of the prior 119of the monastery. He was born in a neighbouring village, and had never been far away. He had witnessed the expulsion of the monks and the building of the beautiful palace that had pushed aside the pathetic abode155 of penitence, humility224, and patience. In his prime he had known and talked to many of those who had witnessed the great battle on Bussaco’s slopes, and he told me artlessly, and in his quavering treble, how all down the slope, upon which I saw him the next day, the dead and wounded Frenchmen had lain thickly, with their arms, drums, and big shakoes scattered around them; how the poor wretches225, crying in their agony for a draught226 of water, were refused by the country people, who hated so bitterly the invaders of their fatherland; how the good monks strove their hardest, succouring the wounded, French, English, and Portuguese alike, and reverently227 burying the dead in consecrated228 ground.
As the old man spoke229, quietly and gently, telling at first-hand the story of nearly a century ago, my mind went back to another old man whom I had known when I was little more than a child, who himself had fought in this battle; but to my eager inquiries230 for details had little 120of satisfaction to impart. But, somehow, the mere231 fact of having known an actor in the scene, however inarticulate, and now to be speaking upon the spot with one who had all his life heard direct from those who witnessed it the story that made his countryside for ever famous, brought nearer to me the vivid vision of long ago. Bussaco fight to me for a brief space was real, as Salamanca and Vitoria never can be, and I feel that for one half hour I have lived in the time when the giants of the world contended for mastery.
Outside the cloister the dream vanished. The lofty white tower with its golden globe, emblem232 of Portugal’s princely pioneer of extended empire, spoke of another age and aroused other memories: peace, luxury, and security reigned233 now supreme in this ancient abode of austerity, and no invader163 of the land was possible. The far-spread forest wafted234 its balsamic breath to me, and the myriad leaves softly whispered in the sensuous breeze, as if that awful day of the 27th September 1810 had never dawned upon the sacred wood. Bussaco is beautiful enough to live in the present without its one cruel memory, gently pensive235 occasionally at the thought of the stern, sad, anchorites who laboured to make it perfect for 121the glory of God. But to Englishmen—aye, and to Frenchmen and Portuguese too—there must come at least once during their stay a rousing bugle236 blast that calls their souls to arms and bids them honour their glorious dead who stood and fell so gallantly237 upon Bussaco’s granite ridge in the long long ago.
点击收听单词发音
1 prevailing | |
adj.盛行的;占优势的;主要的 | |
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2 clumps | |
n.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的名词复数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声v.(树、灌木、植物等的)丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 );(土、泥等)团;块;笨重的脚步声 | |
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3 tracts | |
大片土地( tract的名词复数 ); 地带; (体内的)道; (尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的)短文 | |
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4 binding | |
有约束力的,有效的,应遵守的 | |
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5 unstable | |
adj.不稳定的,易变的 | |
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6 streaked | |
adj.有条斑纹的,不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 );使布满条纹 | |
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7 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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8 thermal | |
adj.热的,由热造成的;保暖的 | |
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9 junction | |
n.连接,接合;交叉点,接合处,枢纽站 | |
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10 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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11 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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12 mules | |
骡( mule的名词复数 ); 拖鞋; 顽固的人; 越境运毒者 | |
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13 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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14 rattle | |
v.飞奔,碰响;激怒;n.碰撞声;拨浪鼓 | |
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15 flickered | |
(通常指灯光)闪烁,摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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17 tinkled | |
(使)发出丁当声,(使)发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 ); 叮当响着发出,铃铃响着报出 | |
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18 clatter | |
v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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19 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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20 waning | |
adj.(月亮)渐亏的,逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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21 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
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22 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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23 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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24 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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25 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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26 gateway | |
n.大门口,出入口,途径,方法 | |
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27 denser | |
adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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28 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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29 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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30 eucalyptus | |
n.桉树,桉属植物 | |
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31 brink | |
n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘,边沿 | |
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32 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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33 scenic | |
adj.自然景色的,景色优美的 | |
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34 petrified | |
adj.惊呆的;目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆,使惊呆;变僵硬;使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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35 cloister | |
n.修道院;v.隐退,使与世隔绝 | |
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36 cloistered | |
adj.隐居的,躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退,使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37 insolent | |
adj.傲慢的,无理的 | |
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38 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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39 chiselled | |
adj.凿过的,凿光的; (文章等)精心雕琢的v.凿,雕,镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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40 wondrous | |
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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41 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
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42 Portuguese | |
n.葡萄牙人;葡萄牙语 | |
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43 sojourn | |
v./n.旅居,寄居;逗留 | |
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44 frescoes | |
n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 );温壁画技法,湿壁画 | |
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45 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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46 domain | |
n.(活动等)领域,范围;领地,势力范围 | |
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47 monastery | |
n.修道院,僧院,寺院 | |
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48 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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49 sanitation | |
n.公共卫生,环境卫生,卫生设备 | |
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50 cuisine | |
n.烹调,烹饪法 | |
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51 lessee | |
n.(房地产的)租户 | |
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52 ballroom | |
n.舞厅 | |
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53 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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54 circumference | |
n.圆周,周长,圆周线 | |
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55 shutters | |
百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 ); (照相机的)快门 | |
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56 vouchsafed | |
v.给予,赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 );允诺 | |
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57 plantations | |
n.种植园,大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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58 cedars | |
雪松,西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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59 cedar | |
n.雪松,香柏(木) | |
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60 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
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61 maple | |
n.槭树,枫树,槭木 | |
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62 willow | |
n.柳树 | |
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63 spiny | |
adj.多刺的,刺状的;n.多刺的东西 | |
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64 mosses | |
n. 藓类, 苔藓植物 名词moss的复数形式 | |
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65 ivy | |
n.常青藤,常春藤 | |
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66 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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67 beheld | |
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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68 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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69 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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70 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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71 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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72 jaded | |
adj.精疲力竭的;厌倦的;(因过饱或过多而)腻烦的;迟钝的 | |
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73 tint | |
n.淡色,浅色;染发剂;vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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74 primrose | |
n.樱草,最佳部分, | |
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75 foliage | |
n.叶子,树叶,簇叶 | |
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76 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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77 inaccessible | |
adj.达不到的,难接近的 | |
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78 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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79 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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80 pinnacles | |
顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 ); 顶点; 尖顶; 小尖塔 | |
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81 gargoyles | |
n.怪兽状滴水嘴( gargoyle的名词复数 ) | |
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82 iridescent | |
adj.彩虹色的,闪色的 | |
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83 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
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84 gorges | |
n.山峡,峡谷( gorge的名词复数 );咽喉v.(用食物把自己)塞饱,填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 );作呕 | |
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85 secluded | |
adj.与世隔绝的;隐退的;偏僻的v.使隔开,使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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86 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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87 sanctuary | |
n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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88 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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89 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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90 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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91 meditate | |
v.想,考虑,(尤指宗教上的)沉思,冥想 | |
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92 turmoil | |
n.骚乱,混乱,动乱 | |
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93 demolished | |
v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 );推翻;拆毁(尤指大建筑物);吃光 | |
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94 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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95 sylvan | |
adj.森林的 | |
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96 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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97 slab | |
n.平板,厚的切片;v.切成厚板,以平板盖上 | |
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98 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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99 zigzagging | |
v.弯弯曲曲地走路,曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 );盘陀 | |
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100 gushed | |
v.喷,涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 );滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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101 dedicated | |
adj.一心一意的;献身的;热诚的 | |
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102 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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103 shrines | |
圣地,圣坛,神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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104 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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105 abolition | |
n.废除,取消 | |
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106 dwarfs | |
n.侏儒,矮子(dwarf的复数形式)vt.(使)显得矮小(dwarf的第三人称单数形式) | |
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107 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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108 harmonious | |
adj.和睦的,调和的,和谐的,协调的 | |
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109 ramble | |
v.漫步,漫谈,漫游;n.漫步,闲谈,蔓延 | |
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110 appreciative | |
adj.有鉴赏力的,有眼力的;感激的 | |
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111 lustrous | |
adj.有光泽的;光辉的 | |
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112 sapphire | |
n.青玉,蓝宝石;adj.天蓝色的 | |
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113 canopy | |
n.天篷,遮篷 | |
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114 fronds | |
n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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115 verdant | |
adj.翠绿的,青翠的,生疏的,不老练的 | |
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116 glades | |
n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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117 recesses | |
n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 );(工作或业务活动的)中止或暂停期间;学校的课间休息;某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 );将(墙)做成凹形,在(墙)上做壁龛;休息,休会,休庭 | |
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118 recess | |
n.短期休息,壁凹(墙上装架子,柜子等凹处) | |
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119 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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120 domed | |
adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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121 naves | |
n.教堂正厅( nave的名词复数 );本堂;中央部;车轮的中心部 | |
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122 aisles | |
n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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123 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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124 inhaled | |
v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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126 elixir | |
n.长生不老药,万能药 | |
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127 distilled | |
adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 );从…提取精华 | |
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128 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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129 sensuous | |
adj.激发美感的;感官的,感觉上的 | |
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130 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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131 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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132 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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133 recording | |
n.录音,记录 | |
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134 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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135 dismantled | |
拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 ); 拆卸; 废除; 取消 | |
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136 slabs | |
n.厚板,平板,厚片( slab的名词复数 );厚胶片 | |
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137 earthenware | |
n.土器,陶器 | |
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138 despoiled | |
v.掠夺,抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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139 penitence | |
n.忏悔,赎罪;悔过 | |
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140 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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141 chapels | |
n.小教堂, (医院、监狱等的)附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 );(在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的)礼拜仪式 | |
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142 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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143 meditative | |
adj.沉思的,冥想的 | |
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144 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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145 thronged | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146 phantoms | |
n.鬼怪,幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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147 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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148 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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149 mosaic | |
n./adj.镶嵌细工的,镶嵌工艺品的,嵌花式的 | |
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150 cataract | |
n.大瀑布,奔流,洪水,白内障 | |
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151 gushing | |
adj.迸出的;涌出的;喷出的;过分热情的v.喷,涌( gush的现在分词 );滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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152 ledge | |
n.壁架,架状突出物;岩架,岩礁 | |
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153 panorama | |
n.全景,全景画,全景摄影,全景照片[装置] | |
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154 inundation | |
n.the act or fact of overflowing | |
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155 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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156 abodes | |
住所( abode的名词复数 ); 公寓; (在某地的)暂住; 逗留 | |
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157 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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158 moors | |
v.停泊,系泊(船只)( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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159 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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160 Moslem | |
n.回教徒,穆罕默德信徒;adj.回教徒的,回教的 | |
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161 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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162 invaders | |
入侵者,侵略者,侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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163 invader | |
n.侵略者,侵犯者,入侵者 | |
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164 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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165 narratives | |
记叙文( narrative的名词复数 ); 故事; 叙述; 叙述部分 | |
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166 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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167 galloped | |
(使马)飞奔,奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 ); 快速做[说]某事 | |
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168 garnished | |
v.给(上餐桌的食物)加装饰( garnish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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170 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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171 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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172 yoke | |
n.轭;支配;v.给...上轭,连接,使成配偶 | |
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173 artillery | |
n.(军)火炮,大炮;炮兵(部队) | |
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174 corps | |
n.(通信等兵种的)部队;(同类作的)一组 | |
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175 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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176 declivity | |
n.下坡,倾斜面 | |
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177 regiments | |
(军队的)团( regiment的名词复数 ); 大量的人或物 | |
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178 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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179 avalanche | |
n.雪崩,大量涌来 | |
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180 battalion | |
n.营;部队;大队(的人) | |
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181 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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182 impetus | |
n.推动,促进,刺激;推动力 | |
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183 hurled | |
v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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184 hideous | |
adj.丑陋的,可憎的,可怕的,恐怖的 | |
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185 devastation | |
n.毁坏;荒废;极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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186 obelisk | |
n.方尖塔 | |
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187 commemorating | |
v.纪念,庆祝( commemorate的现在分词 ) | |
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188 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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189 infantry | |
n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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190 circuitous | |
adj.迂回的路的,迂曲的,绕行的 | |
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191 forestalled | |
v.先发制人,预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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192 evacuated | |
撤退者的 | |
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193 frustrated | |
adj.挫败的,失意的,泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 );挫败;使受挫折;令人沮丧 | |
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194 monkish | |
adj.僧侣的,修道士的,禁欲的 | |
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195 poignant | |
adj.令人痛苦的,辛酸的,惨痛的 | |
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196 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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197 tablecloth | |
n.桌布,台布 | |
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198 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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199 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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200 orchards | |
(通常指围起来的)果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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201 recluse | |
n.隐居者 | |
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202 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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203 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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204 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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205 carrion | |
n.腐肉 | |
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206 torrents | |
n.倾注;奔流( torrent的名词复数 );急流;爆发;连续不断 | |
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207 bleached | |
漂白的,晒白的,颜色变浅的 | |
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208 mused | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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209 cypress | |
n.柏树 | |
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210 yew | |
n.紫杉属树木 | |
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211 scroll | |
n.卷轴,纸卷;(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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212 scrolls | |
n.(常用于录写正式文件的)纸卷( scroll的名词复数 );卷轴;涡卷形(装饰);卷形花纹v.(电脑屏幕上)从上到下移动(资料等),卷页( scroll的第三人称单数 );(似卷轴般)卷起;(像展开卷轴般地)将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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213 mouldering | |
v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 );腐烂,崩塌 | |
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214 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
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215 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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216 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
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217 effaced | |
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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218 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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219 fray | |
v.争吵;打斗;磨损,磨破;n.吵架;打斗 | |
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220 courteously | |
adv.有礼貌地,亲切地 | |
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221 doffed | |
v.脱去,(尤指)脱帽( doff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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222 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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223 shimmering | |
v.闪闪发光,发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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224 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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225 wretches | |
n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 );可怜的人;恶棍;坏蛋 | |
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226 draught | |
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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227 reverently | |
adv.虔诚地 | |
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228 consecrated | |
adj.神圣的,被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣,给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 );奉献 | |
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229 spoke | |
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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230 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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231 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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232 emblem | |
n.象征,标志;徽章 | |
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233 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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234 wafted | |
v.吹送,飘送,(使)浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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235 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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236 bugle | |
n.军号,号角,喇叭;v.吹号,吹号召集 | |
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237 gallantly | |
adv. 漂亮地,勇敢地,献殷勤地 | |
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