The Roman work in Palestine seems to exaggerate its peculiar3 characteristics, so that here one notices these more distinctly than in any other land. A Roman tower in Switzerland, a Roman road in Scotland—certainly they are Roman, but they are not removed from all things Swiss or Scotch4 by so vast an interval5 as that which divides Roman from native work in Palestine. It is indeed an invasion of arms, this Roman life—an intrusion of what is, first and last, alien to the spirit of the place. The traveller to-day, to whom the very dust of this land is dear, inevitably6 feels about the Roman relics7 an air of obtrusive8 and uncomprehending indifference9. They “cared for none of these things,” or, if they did care a little now and then and try to understand, they did it clumsily and unnaturally10. Rome’s policy was that of wide toleration, but her spirit was absolutely unaccommodating. She might allow her provinces to govern themselves and to worship pretty much as they chose, but she herself, in her officials and their works, stood aloof11 from them and was Rome still. This is to be seen in Palestine in all its good and in all its bad aspects. In those solidly-constructed bridges and mighty12 aqueducts and imperishable causeways there is the very embodiment of the Roman virtus and gravitas, that output of manhood which never trifled nor{100} spared itself, that solemn, business-like reality which is so full of purpose. In this hard reality of Rome there is not only purpose but pitilessness of force to accomplish what is planned. Every Roman road you chance upon seems to be feeling its way with an unerring instinct towards Jerusalem or some other goal, and you know that it will arrive. Just as impressive, on the other hand, is the sense of Rome’s limitations. Her works disclose her seeing a certain length, and you know beyond all doubt that she will get there. But there are very obvious and very clearly defined limits to the length she ever sees or will go. The work of Greece is far beyond the furthest reach of Roman work—the glad spring, the grace of conscious strength that is beautiful as well as strong, the restfulness withal of perfect harmony that is thinking of more than merely utilitarian14 values; of these Rome knows not the secret. Beside the flight of Greek art she is pedestrian; to the Greek artist she plays at best but the part of Roman artisan. Forceful, massive, successful up to its highest desire, the Roman work is finished and perfect. And it has attained15 finish and perfection on a lower level than that of any nation that ever yet dreamed dreams or “looked beyond the world for truth and beauty.”
Not that there are no other traces of Rome in Syria beyond the stones of Roman ruins. In many place-names Latin is discernible, and the country is full of{101} inscriptions17 of all sorts. A still more permanent mark was left by that invasion of Roman spirit which, for a time, claimed Israel for Rome. Rome came to Syria next in succession to the invasion of Alexander the Great. After his death the Macedonian power remained in the East, and the seductive spirit of Greek humanism became the rival of the old Puritan Hebraism of the nation. It was this that led to the Wars of the Maccabees, who fought for the sterner against the more genial18 spirit. As in the days of English Cromwell, the Puritan was invincible19 while he remained true to his faith—that singularly effective blend of patriotism20 with religious belief which has made itself felt in so many national histories. The triumph of Hebraism lasted for about a century, and then came Pompey in 63 B.C. to Jerusalem. Hellenism regained21 its ascendency and the Greek cities of Palestine their freedom. About a quarter of a century later the figure of Herod the Great appears as a critical factor in the history of Palestine. An Idumean and a Sadducee, he had neither patriotism nor religion to check his ambition. The path of glory and of easy advancement22, then, was by way of Rome, and there was much in Herod that found Rome congenial. As a young man he had made his name by clearing out a notorious band of robbers from the valley which led down the great road from the Mediterranean23 to the Sea of Galilee at Capernaum. This “Vale of Doves” is flanked by precipices25 pierced with many caves, in which the robbers lived. Josephus tells us how Herod fell upon the device of letting down cages{102} with the bravest of his soldiers. These men, lowered by ropes from the edge of the cliff, sprang upon the robbers in their cave’s mouth, and when they retreated within, smoked them out with fires like vermin. The man who contrived27 and carried out that design was not unworthy of the title “Great” from the Roman point of view. He became the centre and the champion of the new Hellenism, which was really the worship of Rome, touched as Rome was with the Greek culture she had conquered and envied and sought in vain to acquire. Rome was clumsily Greek at this time, and Herod was clumsily Roman. Certainly he would have been a Roman if he could. He was prepared to go any length to serve his end. At the Banias springs of Jordan he built a temple to Augustus. Samaria and C?sarea, his Roman cities, must have cost him a fabulous28 sum to build.
Of the actual architectural remains29 of Rome in Palestine, the smallest are perhaps the most impressive. Here and there, from south to north, you come upon tesser?, the remains of inlaid mosaic30 floors of the ancient houses. Sometimes it is single little cubes that turn up among the gravel31 of the sea-shore or shine from the newly-ploughed furrow32. At other times broken fragments of a hand-breadth’s size may be found, with enough variety of colour to suggest the beginning of a pattern. But here and there you may find whole floors of elaborately designed mosaic, with concentric circles of various colour and size, with large-scale pictures, or, as in one case at least, with an ancient map—one of the{103} most ancient in the world. On many a spot of Palestine you ride over ground whose stones are capitals of carved pillars, and whose layers of caked earth disclose fragments of ancient mosaic floors.
The Roman roads are still frequently met with in Palestine, and these, perhaps more than any other of their works, help the imagination to realise the old life in its magnificence of power. Whether the causeway lies bare to the weather across a mountain, or whether it cuts its track along the sheer cliff of a gorge33, there is the same uncompromising purpose and capacity in it—the stride of the road, that seems to be aware of whither it is going and the reason for its going there. In the cities of the Decapolis and others there is generally one straight line of Roman causeway—the “Street called Straight,” which is by no means peculiar to Damascus. It was a Roman hobby, this of straightness, and one of the most characteristic of Roman hobbies. The roads went, so far as that was possible, up hill and down dale in a direct line from place to place; and in the cities at least one columned street did the same. The milestones34 which may still be found occasionally seem to heighten the human interest, though that is considerably35 damped when we realise that none of these roads date from the early Roman days in Syria. The paths our Saviour36 walked on were but tracks, not unlike those which modern travellers follow.
But the bridges are older, and in some places they are used for traffic to-day, spanning Jordan and{104} Leontes. There is little causeway at the ends of them—their one business in these old days was to do the difficult and needful task of crossing water. Once across, the traveller might find his path or make it for himself. Parapets are not provided on the old bridges, and the surface is a flight of broad and shallow steps. If you walk unwarily and are drowned in the torrent37 below, that is no concern of these resolute38 but unluxurious bridge-builders. Their business is simply to span the stream. So effectively and conscientiously40 have they done this, that even when time and floods have broken the bridge, you may see the half of it still standing41: the huge pier26 of stone and of mortar42 almost harder than stone stands at the side, and the actual arch is still flung across the water, wedged into an almost unbreakable strength by its keystone, while all the surface building above the arch has long been washed away. Such a ruin may be seen to-day on the coast some miles to the north of Tyre. It was in her fight with water, either for it in aqueducts or against it in quays44 and bridges, that Rome seems to have put out her utmost strength of masonry45. Along the coasts both of the Mediterranean and of the Sea of Galilee, submerged stones and fragments of building may be seen, which bear testimony46 to this; and at Tariche?, where a large fish-curing trade had to be provided for, there are remains of a dam and quay43 where Jordan swept round in a circle, affording a great length of water-frontage. But perhaps the most noticeable monuments of Rome in this dry and thirsty land are the{105}
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THE FORECOURT OF THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE.
aqueducts, sections of which still stand in many parts. In the neighbourhood of Jericho, Laurence Oliphant counted nine different aqueducts. At Khan Minyeh, believed by some to be the site of Capernaum, there is a bewildering mass of water-building of many sorts. A Wasserthurm still stands, whose walls are 12 feet in thickness, and in all directions water is carried at various levels in channels which run along the top of mighty banks of masonry. Great stone water-pipes, with rim47 and hollow for fitting to the next pipes tightly, lie scattered48 in all directions, peeping up through the long grass and ferns, or hiding among the roots of the thorn trees. Elsewhere are to be seen longer stretches of aqueduct, whose architects have been able to turn strength into beauty in a very wonderful fashion. Roman building at its best relies on the one principle of constructive49 truth. It never aims at being pretty; it never fails in being right for the purpose it is meant to serve. From the point of view of beauty this may often have produced harsh, material, and heavy work—and indeed that is part of what we have already referred to as the limitation of Roman achievement. But the highest beauty is, after all, a matter far more of truth than of ornament50, and there are many remains of Roman work in which such high beauty has been unconsciously attained. They built to accomplish some definite practical purpose, and for that end they built thoroughly51 and well. The result is the beauty which comes like a crown upon honest work beyond the design of the workers—a beauty of wholeness,{106} adequacy, truth, which is perhaps not so far removed from the Hebrew idea of the “beauty of holiness” as careless observers might be disposed to think. This is seen in many a fragment of the Roman aqueducts. These irregular, three-tiered clusters of variously sized and shaped arches, carrying the stone or concrete channel across a gorge, have a real beauty of their own; and the long stretches of single or double tiers that take up the channel where it emerges from a mountain-tunnel, lead it high and secure across the treacherous53 ooze54 of a marsh55, throw their level line on high bridges over ravines, and at last end in the tumbled ruins of a city whose pools and fountains they filled long ago—these have an indisputable beauty of workmanship and design, as well as an infinite pathos56 of sentiment.
Next in impressiveness to these monuments are the remains of the Greek amphitheatres of the Roman period. Whether it be that the massiveness of the stones has been too much for the lazy builders who have constructed their modern dwellings57 out of stolen fragments of ruins; or whether, in its irony58, history has attached to these monuments of Rome’s attempt to amuse the world some special sacredness, it would be difficult to say. Certain it is that these in many places remain, sunk in the natural hollow of a hill as in a socket59, while all traces of the city which once surrounded them have disappeared. They have been often described, both as they are found in Syria and elsewhere; and the stage arrangements, the underground passages, and the whole design of them does not{107} materially differ from those of other countries. One feature in the Syrian theatres appears with special distinctness. When the play was going on, an awning60 may be supposed to have been spread horizontally over the roof, to shade spectators and actors from the sun. Between the edge of this awning and the flat top rim of the stage buildings, there would be a blank space left, as it were, like a framed and draped picture. The sites were so chosen that this space was filled up with some commandingly beautiful vista—in the north generally a view of Hermon. Hauran boasts many such theatres in the cities of the Decapolis. In cities which were first Greek and then Roman, such as these, it may be difficult to determine the exact date of a particular building. If the Romans built these theatres, they closely imitated the older Grecian work. They certainly built the theatre and hippodrome of C?sarea, in which latter the goal-post is still to be seen, an immense granite61 stone, which has seen life in its day.
The theatres have, as a rule, survived the fortresses62 and the temples. Rome undertook many things. She would worship, govern, educate, amuse. Is it not significant that her wreck63 looks so like a gigantic playground, as if in those degenerate64 days of her conquest the Empire was already finding in the motto “il faut s’amuser” her rule of life? After all, it is his chief interest that is the immortal65 thing about any man or nation. Yet this may be an unjust and fanciful estimate. Relics of Roman temples and fortresses also remain. A statue of Jupiter has had its resurrection{108} from the sands of Gaza, and a monument in honour of Jupiter Serapis now bears a Roman inscription16 near the Zion Gate of Jerusalem. Near springs and the fountain-heads of rivers especially, the ruins of Roman shrines66 to the Genius of the fountain are found, as at Banias. Fortresses too, where Roman garrisons67 used to be located, can still be traced, in a ring or an oblong trail of loose stones. Such ruins crown the height of Tabor, the summit of Gerizim, and many another hill. But these shew little trace of their former meaning. Here and there the acropolis of a Greek or Roman town may retain its ancient embankment, built on the steep slope of the hill, as if shoring up the plateau above where the temple once stood. Elsewhere, some parts of the curtain wall of a crusader castle may be blocks of Roman fortification left in situ. But the greater part of the Roman building must be looked for in the walls of village houses, where the contrast between such fragments and their surroundings is as grotesque68 as it is pitiful. The Gadarenes have built into their walls whatever lay nearest them. Coffins69 and tombstones, capitals and columns, even altars themselves, are there, “stopping holes to keep the wind away”; it is exactly what “imperial C?sar” has come to in Gadara.
When Roman power decayed, the signs of its decadence70 were manifest in the departure from old severity into an efflorescence of ornament and a magnificence of mere13 size out of all proportion to the constructive meaning of the work. In Baalbek, Rome has left us a monument of such decadence. The{109} elaborated detail is foreign to the grand simplicity71 of the old Roman style, and the exaggerated size is but boastfulness. “The Romans had seen the huge Jewish stones at Jerusalem” (as Dr. Merrill explained the matter to us) “and began at Baalbek to work on a bigger scale, the Barnums of the ancient world, whose ambition was to run the biggest show on earth. By and by they got tired of that, and left it off; it was not their line, after all.” “The line” of Rome was a very straight and simple one. With immense power and a great and single purpose, she went straight forward, and did what she meant to do. Hers was a rough simplicity which never failed. Strange that, with so mighty a resource, she should have ever gone out of her line to attempt any other work than her own! When men or nations discover their limitations, and rashly make up their mind no longer to stay within them, their ambition has already begun to foreshadow their downfall.
The pathos of seeing anything which evidently was once so competent and so strong, now so absolutely dead as Rome is, is heightened almost to weeping, in those places where the little and everyday memorials of her former life are commonest. It is not the gigantic monoliths, but the little tesser?, not the fallen columns, but the broken jar-handles, that touch the heart most. Between Tyre and Sidon the rider passes over fields every stone of which is a fragment of some marble slab72 or curiously-carved piece of masonry. His horse is overturning the remains of Ornithopolis, “the city{110} of the bird,” in these ploughed fields. But it is at Samaria that the emotion is most irresistible73. Where the “fat valley” opens to the westward74, a conical hill, slightly oval and with flattened75 top now clad with an orchard76, nestles in and yet lies apart from the bend of the mountains of Ephraim. It was this hill that Omri bought from Shomer for the heavy price of two talents of silver. It was here that the city rose—the inferior houses (if we may reconstruct the probable past) of white brick, with rafters of sycamore; the grander ones of hewn stone and cedar—while the royal palace overtopped them all. A broad wall with terraced top encircled it, and the city lay there, “a vast luxurious39 couch, in which its nobles rested securely, ‘propped and cushioned up on both sides as in the cherished corner of a rich divan77.’” It was Ahab’s capital too, and after the varying fortunes of centuries it was granted to Herod the Great by Augustus, who immediately called it by the Greek name of the emperor, Sebaste, and proceeded to rebuild it in a style of unheard-of magnificence. A hippodrome appeared in the hollow, a temple on the hill. Round the summit he ran a flat terrace with double colonnade78 of monolithic79 pillars about 16 feet in height, with palaces and massive gateways80. From our camp on the threshing-floor, quite near the circuit of pillars—for many of them are still standing, and the bases of almost all may be seen in the ground—we crossed to within the ring of the colonnade. The ground was ploughed here even along the faces of the artificial terrace-banks,{111} which still preserve their sheer angle, clean and steep as of old. The furrows81 were literally82 sown with fragments of broken pottery83 and tesser?. We crossed to a squared and heavy mass of fallen stones and carved pillars lying slantwise against walls still strong in ruin, which bears the name of Herod’s daughter’s palace; and then along the colonnade to the great piles of masonry which guard the gate that looks toward C?sarea. Two massive towers are there, partly in ruins and soon to be wholly so, for the cactus84 hedge is busy with its roots among the stones, and is making its way through cracks to the very heart of the towers. We sat there watching the sun sink into the sea, and thought of all those faded splendours and crimes that make this spot so famous among the tragic85 places of the world. It was the home of Jezebel, it was the slaughter-house of Mariamne, both of whom must often have watched the sunset from that gate. The ambitions of the ancient kings, the pride and wealth and cruelty of Herod, the beauty and the misery86 of passionate87 women, dead these many centuries—all seemed to people the place with ghosts, as the twilight88 deepened. We turned to go back, and found ourselves accompanied by the man who farms the hill—a tall, friendly, and gracious man in long flowing robes. He held the hand of his little five-year-old girl, a dark-eyed, sweet-faced child, dressed in a red cloak crossed with blue and yellow stripes. Her hair was short, in clustering curls of glossy89 black, with a blue bead90 cunningly inwoven among them to keep off the evil eye.{112} She had her free hand entwined by all its fingers in the wool of a pet lamb, which she steered91 along sideways vigorously. How dead the mighty Herod and all the Roman glory seemed in contrast with this simple picture of the eternal life of home!
Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woe92
Long ago;
Lust52 of glory pricked93 their hearts up, dread94 of shame
Struck them tame;
And that glory and that shame alike, the gold
Bought and sold.
Now,—the single little turret95 that remains
On the plains,
By the caper24 over-rooted, by the gourd96
Overscored,
While the patching houseleek’s head of blossom winks97
Through the chinks—
Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time
Sprang sublime98,
And a burning ring all round, the chariots traced
As they raced,
And the monarch99 and his minions100 and his dames101
Viewed the games.
. . . . . . . . .
Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns!
Earth’s returns
For whole centuries of folly102, noise and sin!
Shut them in,
With their triumphs and their glories and the rest!
Love is best.[18]
It is not, however, merely with the chill of that which has been long dead that Rome affects us in Syria;{113}
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THE ROTUNDA103 AND CHAPEL104 OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE.
it is with the living interest which attaches to all that touched Christ, and entered in any way into Christianity. It is a far-reaching generalisation which reminds us that “the great civilisations have always risen in the meeting-places of ideas.”[19] Historically it is true that the times of greatest international struggle have been times of heightened vitality105, when the mingling106 nations were ready to receive and to impart much, and to send forth107 a new spirit upon the world. Nothing could be more providentially apposite, from this point of view, than that Jesus should have been born “amid the fever of the establishment of the Roman power in Judea.” He kept aloof, indeed, from the Herodian people who lived delicately in kings’ houses, and from all the Greek and Gr?co-Roman life of his day. Yet, as Dr. Smith has shown us memorably108, Jesus was no quiet rustic109 dreaming dreams and seeing visions far from the life of men. He lived and died in close touch with all that Rome, Greece, Egypt, Mesopotamia, Arabia had to show. Not for the first time, nor for the last, did He see, in His temptation, “the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them.” As this realisation becomes more and more distinct, a new force is added to the contention110 that His Gospel is the Gospel for the world. It was thought out and first preached amid the throng111 of commerce, and while the din1 of battle was as yet hardly silent.
This contact of Jesus Christ with Rome, which under Paul’s hand was to become the messenger and instrument{114} of His kingdom, is vividly112 associated with two hill-tops in Palestine. One of them is that height near Nazareth, some ten minutes distant from the village well, the description of whose outlook closes the chapter on Galilee in the Historical Geography with the well-known passage about the boyhood of Jesus. There, while He faced seawards, lay on the left hand below Him the wine-coloured, battle-soaked plain of Jezreel, with squadrons of the Roman army marching east and west along it; while on the right hand the Sepphoris Road ran ribbon-like along the ranges, with its constant stream of merchandise. The other hill-top is that known as “Gordon’s Calvary” at Jerusalem—a low and rounded hillock just outside the Damascus Gate. If this be indeed the site of Calvary, Christ was crucified on a wedge of ground between a military and a commercial road; and “they that passed by wagging their heads” may have been soldiers from the Tower as well as merchants from the Northern Gate.
Certain it is, at least, that Rome was about His cradle and His grave. The earliest narratives113 of His earthly career bring Him to Bethlehem to a Roman taxation114; the latest story delivers Him to a Roman judge, to Roman soldiers, and to a Roman cross.
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1 din | |
n.喧闹声,嘈杂声 | |
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2 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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3 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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4 scotch | |
n.伤口,刻痕;苏格兰威士忌酒;v.粉碎,消灭,阻止;adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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5 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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6 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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7 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
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8 obtrusive | |
adj.显眼的;冒失的 | |
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9 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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10 unnaturally | |
adv.违反习俗地;不自然地;勉强地;不近人情地 | |
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11 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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12 mighty | |
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13 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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14 utilitarian | |
adj.实用的,功利的 | |
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15 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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16 inscription | |
n.(尤指石块上的)刻印文字,铭文,碑文 | |
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17 inscriptions | |
(作者)题词( inscription的名词复数 ); 献词; 碑文; 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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18 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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19 invincible | |
adj.不可征服的,难以制服的 | |
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20 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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21 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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22 advancement | |
n.前进,促进,提升 | |
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23 Mediterranean | |
adj.地中海的;地中海沿岸的 | |
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24 caper | |
v.雀跃,欢蹦;n.雀跃,跳跃;续随子,刺山柑花蕾;嬉戏 | |
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25 precipices | |
n.悬崖,峭壁( precipice的名词复数 ) | |
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26 pier | |
n.码头;桥墩,桥柱;[建]窗间壁,支柱 | |
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27 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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28 fabulous | |
adj.极好的;极为巨大的;寓言中的,传说中的 | |
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29 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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30 mosaic | |
n./adj.镶嵌细工的,镶嵌工艺品的,嵌花式的 | |
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31 gravel | |
n.砂跞;砂砾层;结石 | |
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32 furrow | |
n.沟;垄沟;轨迹;车辙;皱纹 | |
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33 gorge | |
n.咽喉,胃,暴食,山峡;v.塞饱,狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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34 milestones | |
n.重要事件( milestone的名词复数 );重要阶段;转折点;里程碑 | |
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35 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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36 saviour | |
n.拯救者,救星 | |
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37 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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38 resolute | |
adj.坚决的,果敢的 | |
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39 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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40 conscientiously | |
adv.凭良心地;认真地,负责尽职地;老老实实 | |
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41 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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42 mortar | |
n.灰浆,灰泥;迫击炮;v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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43 quay | |
n.码头,靠岸处 | |
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44 quays | |
码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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45 masonry | |
n.砖土建筑;砖石 | |
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46 testimony | |
n.证词;见证,证明 | |
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47 rim | |
n.(圆物的)边,轮缘;边界 | |
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48 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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49 constructive | |
adj.建设的,建设性的 | |
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50 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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51 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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52 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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53 treacherous | |
adj.不可靠的,有暗藏的危险的;adj.背叛的,背信弃义的 | |
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54 ooze | |
n.软泥,渗出物;vi.渗出,泄漏;vt.慢慢渗出,流露 | |
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55 marsh | |
n.沼泽,湿地 | |
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56 pathos | |
n.哀婉,悲怆 | |
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57 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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58 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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59 socket | |
n.窝,穴,孔,插座,插口 | |
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60 awning | |
n.遮阳篷;雨篷 | |
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61 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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62 fortresses | |
堡垒,要塞( fortress的名词复数 ) | |
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63 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
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64 degenerate | |
v.退步,堕落;adj.退步的,堕落的;n.堕落者 | |
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65 immortal | |
adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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66 shrines | |
圣地,圣坛,神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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67 garrisons | |
守备部队,卫戍部队( garrison的名词复数 ) | |
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68 grotesque | |
adj.怪诞的,丑陋的;n.怪诞的图案,怪人(物) | |
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69 coffins | |
n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 );使某人早亡[死,完蛋,垮台等]之物 | |
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70 decadence | |
n.衰落,颓废 | |
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71 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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72 slab | |
n.平板,厚的切片;v.切成厚板,以平板盖上 | |
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73 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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74 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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75 flattened | |
[医](水)平扁的,弄平的 | |
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76 orchard | |
n.果园,果园里的全部果树,(美俚)棒球场 | |
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77 divan | |
n.长沙发;(波斯或其他东方诗人的)诗集 | |
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78 colonnade | |
n.柱廊 | |
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79 monolithic | |
adj.似独块巨石的;整体的 | |
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80 gateways | |
n.网关( gateway的名词复数 );门径;方法;大门口 | |
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81 furrows | |
n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 );(脸上的)皱纹v.犁田,开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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82 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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83 pottery | |
n.陶器,陶器场 | |
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84 cactus | |
n.仙人掌 | |
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85 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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86 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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87 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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88 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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89 glossy | |
adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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90 bead | |
n.念珠;(pl.)珠子项链;水珠 | |
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91 steered | |
v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 );操纵;控制;引导 | |
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92 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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93 pricked | |
刺,扎,戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 ); 刺伤; 刺痛; 使剧痛 | |
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94 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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95 turret | |
n.塔楼,角塔 | |
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96 gourd | |
n.葫芦 | |
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97 winks | |
v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 );递眼色(表示友好或高兴等);(指光)闪烁;闪亮 | |
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98 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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99 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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100 minions | |
n.奴颜婢膝的仆从( minion的名词复数 );走狗;宠儿;受人崇拜者 | |
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101 dames | |
n.(在英国)夫人(一种封号),夫人(爵士妻子的称号)( dame的名词复数 );女人 | |
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102 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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103 rotunda | |
n.圆形建筑物;圆厅 | |
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104 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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105 vitality | |
n.活力,生命力,效力 | |
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106 mingling | |
adj.混合的 | |
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107 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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108 memorably | |
难忘的 | |
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109 rustic | |
adj.乡村的,有乡村特色的;n.乡下人,乡巴佬 | |
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110 contention | |
n.争论,争辩,论战;论点,主张 | |
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111 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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112 vividly | |
adv.清楚地,鲜明地,生动地 | |
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113 narratives | |
记叙文( narrative的名词复数 ); 故事; 叙述; 叙述部分 | |
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114 taxation | |
n.征税,税收,税金 | |
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