"Oh that the desert were my dwelling1 place,
With one fair spirit for my minister;
That I might all forget the human race,
And, hating no one, love but only her."
A cheerful party were met in the drawing room of Delme. Clarendon Gage2, a neighbouring land proprietor3, to whom Emily had for a twelvemonth been betrothed4, had the night previous returned from a continental5 tour. In consequence, Emily looked especially radiant, Delme much pleased, and Clarendon superlatively happy. Nor must we pass over Mrs. Glenallan, Miss Delme's worthy6 aunt, who had supplied the place of a mother to Emily, and who now sat in her accustomed chair, with an almost sunny brow, quietly pursuing her monotonous7 tambouring. At times she turned to admire her niece, who occasionally walked to the glass window, to caress8 and feed an impudent9 white peacock; which one moment strutted10 on the wide terrace, and at another lustily tapped for his bread at ne of the lower panes11.
"I am glad to see you looking so well, Clarendon!"
"And I can return the compliment, Delme! Few, looking at you now, would take you for an old campaigner."
The style of feature in Delme and Clarendon was very dissimilar. Sir Henry was many years Gage's senior; but his manly12 bearing, and dark decided13 features, would bear a contrast with even the tall and elegant, although slight form of Clarendon. The latter was very fair, and what we are accustomed to call English-looking. His hair almost, but not quite, flaxen, hung in thick curls over his forehead, and would have given an effeminate expression to the face, were it not for the peculiar14 flash of the clear blue eye.
"Come! Clarendon," said Emily, "I will impose a task. You have written twice in my album; once, years ago, and the second time on the eve of our parting. Come! you shall read us both effusions, and then write a sonnet15 to our happy meeting. Would that dear George were here now!"
Gage took up the book. It was a moderately-sized volume, bound in crimson16 velvet17. It was the fashion to keep albums then. It glittered not in a binding18 of azure19 and gold, nor were its momentous20 secrets enclosed by one of Bramah's locks. The Spanish proverb says, "Tell me who you are with, and I will tell you what you are." Ours, in that album age, used to be, "Show me your scrap21 book, I will tell you your character." Emily's was not one commencing with--
"I never loved a dear gazelle!"
and ending with stanzas22 on the "Forget-me-not." It had not those hackneyed but beautiful lines addressed by Mr. Spencer to Lady Crewe--
"I stay'd too late: forgive the crime!
Unheeded flew the hours;
For noiseless falls the foot of Time.
That only treads on flowers."
Nor contained it those sublime23, but yet more common ones, on Sir John Moore's death; which lines, by the bye, have suffered more from that mischief-making, laughter-loving creature, Parody24, than any lines we know. It was not one of these books. Nor was it the splendid scrap book, replete25 with superb engravings and proof-impression prints; nor at all allied26 to the sentimental27 one of a garrison28 flirt29, containing locks of hair of at least five gentlemen, three of whom are officers in the army. Nor, lastly, was it of that genus which has vulgarity in its very title-page, and is here and there interspersed30 with devilish imps31, or caricatured likenesses of the little proprietress, all done in most infinite humour, and marking the familiar friendship, of some half-dozen whiskered cubs32, having what is technically33 called the run of the house. No! it was a repository for feeling and for memory, and, in its fair pages, presented an image of Emily's heart. Many of these were marked, it is true; and what human being's character is unchequered? But it was blotless; and the virgin34 page looks not so white as when the contrast of the sable35 ink is there.
Clarendon read aloud his first contribution--who knows it not? The very words form a music, and that music is Metastasio's,
"Placido zeffiretto,
Se trovi il caro oggetto,
Digli che sei sospiro
Ma non gli dir di chi,
Limpido ruscelletto,
Se mai t'incontri in lei,
Digli che pianto sei,
Ma non le dir qual' eiglio
Crescer ti fe cosi."
"And now, Emily! for my parting tribute--if I remember right, it was sorrowful enough."
Gage read, with tremulous voice, the following, which we will christen
THE FAREWELL.
I will not be the lightsome lark36,
That carols to the rising morn,--
I'd rather be some plaintive37 bird
Lulling38 night's ear forlorn.
I will not be the green, green leaf,
Mingling39 'midst thousand leaves and flowers
That shed their fairy charms around
To deck Spring's joyous40 bowers41.
I'd rather be the one red leaf,
Waving 'midst Autumn's sombre groves:--
On the heart to breathe that sadness
Which contemplation loves.
I will not be the morning ray,
Dancing upon the river's crest42,
All light, all motion, when the stream
Turns to the sun her breast.
I'd rather be the gentle shade,
Lengthening43 as eve comes stealing on,
And rest in pensive44 sadness there,
When those bright rays are gone.
I will not be a smile to play
Upon thy coral lip, and shed
Around it sweetness, like the sun
Risen from his crimson bed.
Oh, no! I'll be the tear that steals
In pity from that eye of blue,
Making the cheek more lovely red,
Like rose-leaf dipp'd in dew.
I will not be remember'd when
Mirth shall her pageant45 joys impart,--
A dream to sparkle in thine eye,
Yet vanish from thy heart.
But when pensive sadness clouds thee,
When thoughts, half pain, half pleasure, steal
Upon the heart, and memory doth
The shadowy past reveal.
When seems the bliss46 of former years,--
Too sweet, too pure, to feel again,--
And long lost hours, scenes, friends, return,
Remember me, love--then!
"Ah, Clarendon! how often have I read those lines, and thought--but I will not think now! Here come the letters! Henry will soon be busy--I shall finish my drawing--and aunt will finish--no! she never can finish her tambour work. Take my portfolio47 and give me another contribution!" Gage now wrote "The Return," which we insert for the reader's approval:--
THE RETURN.
When the blue-eyed morn doth peep
Over the soft hill's verdant48 steep,
Lighting49 up its shadows deep,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
When the lightsome lark doth sing
Her grateful song to Nature's King,
Making all the woodlands ring,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
Or when plaintive Philomel
Shall mourn her mate in some lone50 dell,
And to the night her sorrows tell,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
When the first green leaf of spring
Shall promise of the summer bring,
And all around its fragrance51 fling,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
Or when the last red leaf shall fall,
And winter spread its icy pall52,
To mind me of the death of all,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
When the lively morning ray
Is dancing on the river's spray,
And sunshine gilds53 the joyous day,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
And when the shades of eve steal on,
Lengthening as life's sun goes down,
Like sweetest constancy alone,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
When I see a sweet smile play
On coral lips, like Phoebus' ray,
Making all look warm and gay,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
When steals the tear of pity, too,
O'er a cheek, whose crimson hue54
Looks like rose-leaf dipp'd in dew,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
When mirth's pageant joys unbind
The gloomy spells that chain my mind,
And make me dream of all that's kind,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
And when pensive sadness clouds me,
When the host of memory crowds me,
When the shadowy past enshrouds me,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
When seems the bliss of former years,--
Too sweet, too pure, to feel again,--
And long lost hours, scenes, friends, return,
I'll think of thee, love, then!
1 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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2 gage | |
n.标准尺寸,规格;量规,量表 [=gauge] | |
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3 proprietor | |
n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
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4 betrothed | |
n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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5 continental | |
adj.大陆的,大陆性的,欧洲大陆的 | |
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6 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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7 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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8 caress | |
vt./n.爱抚,抚摸 | |
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9 impudent | |
adj.鲁莽的,卑鄙的,厚颜无耻的 | |
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10 strutted | |
趾高气扬地走,高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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12 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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13 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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14 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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15 sonnet | |
n.十四行诗 | |
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16 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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17 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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18 binding | |
有约束力的,有效的,应遵守的 | |
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19 azure | |
adj.天蓝色的,蔚蓝色的 | |
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20 momentous | |
adj.重要的,重大的 | |
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21 scrap | |
n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
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22 stanzas | |
节,段( stanza的名词复数 ) | |
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23 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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24 parody | |
n.打油诗文,诙谐的改编诗文,拙劣的模仿;v.拙劣模仿,作模仿诗文 | |
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25 replete | |
adj.饱满的,塞满的;n.贮蜜蚁 | |
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26 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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27 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
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28 garrison | |
n.卫戍部队;驻地,卫戍区;vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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29 flirt | |
v.调情,挑逗,调戏;n.调情者,卖俏者 | |
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30 interspersed | |
adj.[医]散开的;点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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31 imps | |
n.(故事中的)小恶魔( imp的名词复数 );小魔鬼;小淘气;顽童 | |
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32 cubs | |
n.幼小的兽,不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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33 technically | |
adv.专门地,技术上地 | |
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34 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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35 sable | |
n.黑貂;adj.黑色的 | |
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36 lark | |
n.云雀,百灵鸟;n.嬉戏,玩笑;vi.嬉戏 | |
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37 plaintive | |
adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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38 lulling | |
vt.使镇静,使安静(lull的现在分词形式) | |
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39 mingling | |
adj.混合的 | |
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40 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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41 bowers | |
n.(女子的)卧室( bower的名词复数 );船首锚;阴凉处;鞠躬的人 | |
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42 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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43 lengthening | |
(时间或空间)延长,伸长( lengthen的现在分词 ); 加长 | |
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44 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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45 pageant | |
n.壮观的游行;露天历史剧 | |
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46 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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47 portfolio | |
n.公事包;文件夹;大臣及部长职位 | |
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48 verdant | |
adj.翠绿的,青翠的,生疏的,不老练的 | |
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49 lighting | |
n.照明,光线的明暗,舞台灯光 | |
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50 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
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51 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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52 pall | |
v.覆盖,使平淡无味;n.柩衣,棺罩;棺材;帷幕 | |
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53 gilds | |
把…镀金( gild的第三人称单数 ); 给…上金色; 作多余的修饰(反而破坏原已完美的东西); 画蛇添足 | |
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54 hue | |
n.色度;色调;样子 | |
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