Of the two, Harold was the more beloved by king and country alike; indeed, one chronicler of that time boldly says that Edward's greatest claim to glory lies in the fact that he called Harold to the government of his realm. Tall of stature4, beautiful in form and face, he excelled in all things, whether in the battle-field or at the council, and to his many gifts was added a noble and upright character, strong when the need for strength arose, but ever inclined to show mercy and compassion5. This was the man on whose shoulders Edward virtually laid all the responsibilities of his realm, while he spent most of his time in his palace at Westminster, so that he might be on the spot to superintend the progress of the building, which went on apace, and to consult with Abbot Edwy as to the form it should take. It was on the church itself, rather than on the buildings of the monastery6, that the king lavished7 his especial care. He meant it to be in the "new style," which he had learnt to love during his exile in Normandy, that land from which came forth8 those master-builders, many of them priests and scholars, whose handiwork is still to be found alike in Norman and in English minsters, beautiful as ever in its strength, its simplicity9, and its dignity. Many were the Norman customs and ideas which Edward brought over with his Norman friends, and some of them were vigorously opposed by Harold, who was passionately10 English.
But as we go through the country and find one after another of those majestic11 buildings in grey stone, made so perfect as to defy the centuries, we must gratefully remember that it was King Edward who first of all set up this "new style" as a model in our midst.
One characteristic was, that every great church should be built in the form of a cross; in the centre the nave12, at the east end the High Altar, and where the nave merged13 into the choir14 cross arms on the right and on the left, and so it was that Westminster was the first cruciform church in England.
This is a description of Edward's building, given to us in a French Life of the king, written very shortly after his death:—
"Now he laid the foundations of the church
With large square blocks of grey stone.
Its foundations are deep,
The front, towards the east he makes round,
The stones are very strong and hard.
In the centre rises a tower
And two at the western front,
And fine and large bells he hangs there.
The pillars and mouldings
Are rich without and within.
At the basis and the capitals
The work rises grand and royal.
Sculptured are the stones
And storied the windows.
All are made with the skill
Of good and loyal workmanship.
And when he finished the work,
He covers the church with lead.
He makes then a Cloister15, and Chapter-House in front,
Towards the east, vaulted16 and round,
Where his ordained17 ministers
May hold their secret Chapter,
Prater18 and dorter,
And the officers round about."
Considering the size of Edward's building, for it was very little if any smaller than the Abbey as we know it to-day, it is unlikely that all the parts described by the French chronicler were finished during the lifetime of the king. Indeed, the royal builder seems to have known that his eyes would never rest on his work, perfected as he dreamt of it. His longing19 therefore was that church and choir might be completed and dedicated20, and for the rest he made such munificent21 gifts in land and money, plate and jewels to the Abbot, that he had no fear but that the building of the monastery with its cloisters22 and dormitories, infirmary and refectory, would be easily accomplished, even if he did not live to see it.
Signs were not wanting to warn him that the hour of his death was near at hand. He had ever firmly believed in dreams and visions, and of late these had been full of solemn meaning to him. He had seen the Seven Sleepers23 of Ephesus turning from their right sides to their left, and this he judged to be an omen24 which told of a great upheaval25, of wars, pestilence26, and famine, which should last for seventy years. Then, too, the Christ Child had appeared to him as he stood near the High Altar in the newly finished choir, and had told him how soon he was to be called hence. And, most wonderful of all, two pilgrims, just returned from the Holy Land, came to the king with a strange story.
Some time before, Edward was on his way to the dedication27 of a church he had built to St. John the Evangelist, when he passed a beggar who pleaded with him for his charity in the name of the Apostle of Love. The king carried no money with him, and his much-loved Chamberlain, Hugolin, was not at hand. Yet so tender-hearted was Edward that he could not pass the beggar by, and he took from his hand a ring, "large, royal, and beautiful." The beggar took it and vanished. But these two pilgrims told how while they were in Syria and in great straits, having wandered from their path, an old man with a long, white beard, carrying two lighted tapers28, stood in their pathway and questioned them. When they spoke29 of their country and their king, he became very joyous30, and declared how great a love he bore to Edward. Furthermore he led them to a hostel31 hard by, told them that lie was none other than St. John the Evangelist, and gave them the ring, bidding them to take it back to the king with the assurance that in half a year he should stand at his side in Paradise.
Edward accepted the story with childlike simplicity. He fasted more rigorously, he prayed more earnestly, and he decided32 to hasten on the hallowing of his church.
The Feast of Christmas was at hand, and the king summoned the Witan for the first time to Westminster, that they might take part in the great ceremony. Little did he dream how through the centuries to come Abbey and Parliament would be welded together.
On Christmas Day, though ill, he, wearing his crown, took part in the services, and was present at the Christmas banquet in the palace. He conversed33 with the bishops35 and the nobles, and appointed the feast of the Holy Innocents as the day on which the great event for which he had so longed should take place.
But his strength began to rapidly ebb37 away, and all who saw him knew him to be a dying man. Too weak to do more than set his signature to the charter of the foundation, he still insisted that the hallowing should take place. Death held no terrors for him; it was but the gate through which he must pass ere he could join that white-robed host of saints and martyrs38 whose presence he had felt so near to him through life. Only, like Simeon of old, there was one thing he desired before he could say, "Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace." Not till his church was consecrated39 would the desire of his heart be satisfied.
By his bedside stood his wife, the Lady Eadgytha, herself the founder40 of a convent church at Wilton. In life he had never loved her overmuch; like his kingdom, she occupied a very secondary place in his thoughts. But womanlike she forgot all that in this moment, and thought only how best she could help and comfort him. Calmly she carried out his every wish, and, acting41 as his representative, went, accompanied by her two brothers Harold and Garth, to the consecration42 of the Abbey Church by Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury.
"Magnificently finished was the church," says an old writer, and it is not difficult for us to picture what took place there on this joyous festival. The walls, massive and stately in their simplicity, gleamed in their freshness, and formed a vivid contrast to the colours to be found in the vestments of the bishops and the priests, the robes of the acolytes44 and singing boys, the distinctive45 dress of the monks46, and the varied47 costumes of nobles, both Norman and Saxon, who were assembled there. The lights shone on the High Altar, clouds of incense48 floated around it, and for the first time those walls resounded49 with chant and hymn51 and solemn antiphon.
"The work stands finished," murmured the king as the echoes of the music floated across to him.
When the queen returned to his bedside, he lay unconscious, and she, kneeling on the ground, tried to restore to him warmth and life. But for many days he made no sign. Then suddenly, on the last day of the old year, came the final flicker52. In a voice clear and strong, he spoke of two holy monks, and all that they had prophesied53 to him concerning the disaster which would shortly overthrow54 the land. So earnest were his words that they struck terror into the hearts of all present; only Stigand, the Archbishop, dared declare that the king babbled55 in delirium56. Yet other things did Edward bequeath in those last days. To his friend the Abbot Eadwine he gave his body with the command that it should be laid in the Abbey Church, and to Harold, his brother-in-law, he commended the Lady Eadgytha, who had never failed in her duty towards him, and to whom he desired all honour should be accorded. Neither did he forget his Norman favourites, who had, he declared, left their native land for love of him.
Still there was one all-important bequest57 to be made, and in that moment Edward seemed to have understood, as he had never understood before, the hopes and longings58 of his people.
"To thee, Harold, my brother, I commit my kingdom," he said solemnly.
Then once more he became silent till near the end, when he turned to the weeping queen.
"Mourn not, my daughter," he said. "I shall not die, but live. For passing from the country of the dead, I verily hope to behold59 the good things of the Lord in the land of the living."
So he fell asleep; and to him St. Peter opened the gate of Paradise, and St. John, his own dear one, led him before the Divine Majesty60.
The grief of the people was intense, and to it was added a wild terror as to what might now befall the land. Hurriedly, as if in a panic, the royal funeral took place on the Feast of the Epiphany, but one day after the king had breathed his last, and the Abbey became the scene of the deepest mourning. Dirges61 and penitential psalms62 filled its walls instead of joyful63 hymns64 of praise and thanksgiving.
Edward, wrapped around in beautiful robes embroidered65 by Eadgytha and her maidens66, and wearing the pilgrim's ring, was laid in royal state on a bier, and carried by eight men to the Abbey, there to be placed before the high altar.
"Bishops, and a multitude of abbots, priests, and ecclesiastics67, with dukes and earls assembled together. A crowd of monks went thither68, and innumerable bodies of people. Here psalms resound50, the sighs and tears burst out, and in that temple of chastity, that dwelling69 of virtue70, the king is honourably71 interred72 in the place appointed by himself."
THE CONFESSOR'S FUNERAL. FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY73.
THE CONFESSOR'S FUNERAL. FROM THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY.
So, in a halo of sanctity, ended the life and reign74 of Edward; and remembering all his piety75, his humility76, the nights of contrition77 he spent on the cold stones in spite of his wearing sickness, his deep reverence78 for all things holy, and the noble gifts he made to the Church, men spoke of him rather as a saint than as a king. And indeed as a ruler he left but little mark on his times. Yet the Abbey Church of Westminster is no small memorial for this last king of the Saxons to have bequeathed to the English nation, and for that alone we owe him a debt of gratitude79 which lends an unfading glory to his name.
Now, you will be wondering how much of the Abbey Church as Edward built it, stands to-day. And alas80! there is but little of it left. For when Henry III., who had a special love for the Confessor, resolved to set up some worthy81 memorial of this "glorious king," he pulled down the greater part of the simple, stately building Edward had so loved, and set up in its place a much more ornate and magnificent piece of work. Edward built to the honour of St. Peter; Henry, to the memory of St. Edward. But generous as was his motive82 in pulling down that solid Norman building, which otherwise would have been standing83 firm as ever to-day, we cannot help regretting those vanished Norman arches and massive pillars.
When you stand by the altar rails, you can remember that the bases of the pillars on either side of the altar are those belonging to Edward's church; or if you go from the cloisters, where the south and the east walks join, into the little cloisters, you will pass under an old archway over the entrance, always known as the Confessor's door. Underneath84, too, what used to be the ancient dormitory, but is now the great schoolroom of Westminster School, some very massive and solid buildings remain which evidently date from Edward, and there is also again the Chapel85 of the Pyx, or Chapel of the Chest, where treasures belonging to the sovereign and the monastery were kept. Neither of these latter places are shown to the general public, but when you go to see the Chapter-House, the entrance to which is in the east cloister, you will see to the right of it the doorway86 of the Pyx Chapel, which is wonderfully strong, and is said to be lined with the skins of Danes. The interior of this, with its stone altar and its solid stone arches, can have undergone very little alteration87 since Edward's day. You will get, too, what is probably a correct general idea of the whole building as it looked from the outside in those early days if, when you are in the Chapter-House, you look carefully at the pictures which are copied from the Bayeux tapestries88. This wonderful piece of work, which was prepared for the rebuilt Cathedral at Bayeux in Normandy, was certainly embroidered during the lifetime of William the Conqueror89, and may even have been the work of his wife, Queen Matilda. Most probably it was made in England, and is in itself a valuable addition to the very fragmentary history of those times. All its details seem to be very accurate, copied from what the workers actually saw and knew about, so there is no reason why the picture of the Abbey in that part of the tapestry which shows the funeral of the Confessor should not as accurately90 represent the building exactly as it stood.
You must notice the part towards the east made round, and the stones which are "very strong and hard," with the main tower and the two smaller towers at the side. And notice too the figure of a man, who is standing on the roof of the Palace, and holding with one hand the weathercock on the east end of the Abbey.
May be the worker only sought to show the buildings of the Abbey and the Palace standing side by side, but all unconsciously that unknown hand prophesied what should be throughout the centuries to come, and told how Church and State should stand firmly linked together.
The members of the Witan had not departed to their homes on the conclusion of the festivities connected with Christmastide and the consecration of the Abbey. They knew the king was dying fast, and that before many days a great duty would rest on them. Rumours91 may have reached their ears that William of Normandy, cousin to Edward, meant to lay claim to the throne on his death, declaring that the king had promised to make him his heir, and that Harold himself had vowed92 to support him. But the sturdy Englishmen who formed that council were resolved that never with their consent should a Norman rule over them, and Edward knew full well the man of their choice when he pointed36 to Harold as their future king. There was an heir to the throne by right of birth, Edgar the Atheling. Still he lived far away unknown to them all, and the days had not yet come when men succeeded to the throne by right of birth alone. On the spot was Harold, the man they loved and trusted, "the shield of the kingdom, the shelter of the oppressed, the judge of the fatherless and the widow."
Edward had done his part. "Death snatched him from the earth, angels bore his white soul to heaven, and in his death he had been glorious, for he had made fast his realm to the noble earl."
The Witan did not hesitate so soon as the throne was theirs to fill, but of their number sent two, who sought out Harold where he stayed, comforting his widowed sister, and offered to him the throne as the man of their choice. Here again the copy of the Bayeux tapestry in the Chapter-House will help you to picture the scene. You will see the two nobles, one bearing the axe93 of office, the other holding a crown and pointing to the room in which lay Edward, from whence the crown had been borne. And you will see Harold—to quote the vivid words of Mr. Freeman, "at once wistfully and anxiously half drawing back the hand which was stretched forth to grasp the glittering gift. A path of danger lay open before him, and duty, no less than ambition, bade him enter upon the thorny94 road. And yet the risk had to be run. If he declined the crown, to whom should England offer it? Under him alone could there be the faintest hope that England would offer a united front to either of the invaders95 who were sure to attack her. The call of patriotism96 distinctly bade him not to shirk at the last moment from the post to which he had so long looked forward, and which had at last become his own. The first man in England, first in every gift of war and peace, first in the love of his countrymen, first in renown97 in other lands, was bound to be first alike in honour and in danger."
So Harold was virtually king of England, appointed by Edward, chosen by the Witan. Yet "full king" he was not until before the altar he and his people had given each other their solemn pledges, until "the blessing98 of the Church and the unction of her highest ministers had made the chosen of the people also the anointed of the Lord."
There was no time to lose. Already the members of the Witan had lingered for a much longer period than was their wont99, and they were anxious to return to their homes. But to delay the coronation until their next meeting was too dangerous to be dreamed of. England could not be left without a king. The burial of Edward and the coronation of Harold must take place at once.
So it came to pass that amid unusual sorrow Edward was buried, as I have already described to you, in the dim light of the Epiphany morning, and a few hours later all was in readiness for the solemn coronation rite43.
There can be but little doubt that it was in Westminster Abbey that the ceremony took place. Harold, led by two bishops, walked to the high altar followed by a long procession, the singers chanting the prayer that justice and judgment100 might be the foundations of his throne, that mercy and truth might go before his face. Then the king elect fell on his knees, and the grand strain of the Te Deum rose to the skies.
And now Eldred, Archbishop of Northumberland, turned to the crowd and demanded of the prelates, the Theyns, and the people of England whether it was their will that Harold should be crowned king?
Their answer was a mighty101 shout of assent102, which came from their very hearts. Then Harold, on his oath, swore to protect the Church of God and all Christian103 people, to forbid wrong and robbery to men of every rank, to strive after justice and mercy in all his judgments104; and first the Bishop34 and afterwards Eldred prayed that the God who had wrought105 such mighty works, would pour down His best gifts on him chosen to be king of the Angles and Saxons, that he might be faithful as Abraham, gentle as Moses, brave as Joshua, humble106 as David, wise as Solomon, so that he might protect both the Church and his nation from all visible and invisible foes107.
So the oath was taken and the prayers were ended. But there was yet to follow that sacred rite of mystic meaning, which was enacted108 as Eldred poured the holy oil on the head of the king, beseeching109 God, that as of old, kings, priests, and prophets were anointed, so now the oil poured on the head of His servant might be a true sign of the sanctifying of his heart, a means of grace for His glory and the welcome of His people. The crown was placed on his head; the sword was handed to him; sceptre and rod were given one after the other into his hands; while with each act the solemn voice of the Archbishop rose in prayer that a yet brighter crown in the heavenly country might be his, that he might ever with the sword defend the Church and the people against all adversaries110, that his sceptre might be a sceptre of righteousness, and that he who had been anointed with the holy oil might stand fast in the strength of God.
Thus was Harold set upon the royal throne; on his head was the crown, in his hand the sceptre, his sword was borne by two chiefs, "while all the people saw him with wonder and delight."
Directly the coronation ceremony was over, the Mass was celebrated111. Then all adjourned112 to the Palace hard by, and a great banquet was held on this Twelfth Night, the last day of the Christmas festival, into which so many and varied scenes had been crowded.
Little had those members of the Witan dreamt when they set out from their homes, of all that would have have happened ere they returned—Christmas festivities and meetings of the Council; the consecration of the new church; the death of King Edward; the choosing of King Harold; the burying of the old king and the crowning of the new, all had followed one after the other in those short wintry days.
And the Abbey itself had been the centre round which all these events had taken place.
It could never sink back into being a mere113 Benedictine monastery of seventy monks, attached to the Church King Edward had built. A greater future lay before it, and I doubt not that the Abbot Eadwine, shrewd man that he was, conscious of the charter which gave him and his successors a peculiar114 independence, rested well satisfied on that old Christmas night.
点击收听单词发音
1 zealous | |
adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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2 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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3 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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4 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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5 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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6 monastery | |
n.修道院,僧院,寺院 | |
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7 lavished | |
v.过分给予,滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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9 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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10 passionately | |
ad.热烈地,激烈地 | |
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11 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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12 nave | |
n.教堂的中部;本堂 | |
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13 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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14 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
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15 cloister | |
n.修道院;v.隐退,使与世隔绝 | |
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16 vaulted | |
adj.拱状的 | |
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17 ordained | |
v.任命(某人)为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 );授予(某人)圣职;(上帝、法律等)命令;判定 | |
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18 prater | |
多嘴的人,空谈者 | |
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19 longing | |
n.(for)渴望 | |
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20 dedicated | |
adj.一心一意的;献身的;热诚的 | |
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21 munificent | |
adj.慷慨的,大方的 | |
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22 cloisters | |
n.(学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的)走廊( cloister的名词复数 );回廊;修道院的生活;隐居v.隐退,使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23 sleepers | |
n.卧铺(通常以复数形式出现);卧车( sleeper的名词复数 );轨枕;睡觉(呈某种状态)的人;小耳环 | |
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24 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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25 upheaval | |
n.胀起,(地壳)的隆起;剧变,动乱 | |
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26 pestilence | |
n.瘟疫 | |
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27 dedication | |
n.奉献,献身,致力,题献,献辞 | |
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28 tapers | |
(长形物体的)逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 ); 微弱的光; 极细的蜡烛 | |
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29 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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30 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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31 hostel | |
n.(学生)宿舍,招待所 | |
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32 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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33 conversed | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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34 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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35 bishops | |
(基督教某些教派管辖大教区的)主教( bishop的名词复数 ); (国际象棋的)象 | |
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36 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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37 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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38 martyrs | |
n.martyr的复数形式;烈士( martyr的名词复数 );殉道者;殉教者;乞怜者(向人诉苦以博取同情) | |
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39 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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40 Founder | |
n.创始者,缔造者 | |
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41 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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42 consecration | |
n.供献,奉献,献祭仪式 | |
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43 rite | |
n.典礼,惯例,习俗 | |
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44 acolytes | |
n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 );随从;新手;(天主教)侍祭 | |
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45 distinctive | |
adj.特别的,有特色的,与众不同的 | |
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46 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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47 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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48 incense | |
v.激怒;n.香,焚香时的烟,香气 | |
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49 resounded | |
v.(指声音等)回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 );产生回响;(指某处)回荡着声音 | |
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50 resound | |
v.回响 | |
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51 hymn | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌 | |
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52 flicker | |
vi./n.闪烁,摇曳,闪现 | |
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53 prophesied | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
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55 babbled | |
v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 );作潺潺声(如流水);含糊不清地说话;泄漏秘密 | |
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56 delirium | |
n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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57 bequest | |
n.遗赠;遗产,遗物 | |
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58 longings | |
渴望,盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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59 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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60 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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61 dirges | |
n.挽歌( dirge的名词复数 );忧伤的歌,哀歌 | |
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62 psalms | |
n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 );圣诗;圣歌;(中的) | |
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63 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
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64 hymns | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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65 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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66 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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67 ecclesiastics | |
n.神职者,教会,牧师( ecclesiastic的名词复数 ) | |
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68 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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69 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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70 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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71 honourably | |
adv.可尊敬地,光荣地,体面地 | |
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72 interred | |
v.埋,葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73 tapestry | |
n.挂毯,丰富多采的画面 | |
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74 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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75 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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76 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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77 contrition | |
n.悔罪,痛悔 | |
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78 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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79 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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80 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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81 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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82 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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83 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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84 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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85 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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86 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
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87 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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88 tapestries | |
n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 );绣帷,织锦v.用挂毯(或绣帷)装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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89 conqueror | |
n.征服者,胜利者 | |
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90 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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91 rumours | |
n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 );风闻;谣言;谣传 | |
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92 vowed | |
起誓,发誓(vow的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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93 axe | |
n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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94 thorny | |
adj.多刺的,棘手的 | |
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95 invaders | |
入侵者,侵略者,侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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96 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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97 renown | |
n.声誉,名望 | |
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98 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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99 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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100 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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101 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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102 assent | |
v.批准,认可;n.批准,认可 | |
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103 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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104 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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105 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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106 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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107 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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108 enacted | |
制定(法律),通过(法案)( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109 beseeching | |
adj.恳求似的v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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110 adversaries | |
n.对手,敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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111 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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112 adjourned | |
(使)休会, (使)休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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114 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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