There in the holy house at Almesbury
Weeping, none with her save a little maid,
The white mist, like a face-cloth to the face,
Clung to the dead earth, and the land was still.
For hither had she fled, her cause of flight
Sir Modred; he that like a subtle beast
Lay couchant with his eyes upon the throne,
Ready to spring, waiting a chance: for this
He chilled the popular praises of the King
With silent smiles of slow disparagement5;
Heathen, the brood by Hengist left; and sought
To make disruption in the Table Round
Serving his traitorous9 end; and all his aims
Were sharpened by strong hate for Lancelot.
For thus it chanced one morn when all the court,
That Modred still in green, all ear and eye,
Climbed to the high top of the garden-wall
To spy some secret scandal if he might,
And saw the Queen who sat betwixt her best
The wiliest and the worst; and more than this
He saw not, for Sir Lancelot passing by
Spied where he couched, and as the gardener’s hand
Picks from the colewort a green caterpillar14,
Of grasses Lancelot plucked him by the heel,
And cast him as a worm upon the way;
He, reverencing17 king’s blood in a bad man,
Made such excuses as he might, and these
By those whom God had made full-limbed and tall,
Scorn was allowed as part of his defect,
And he was answered softly by the King
And all his Table. So Sir Lancelot holp
To raise the Prince, who rising twice or thrice
But, ever after, the small violence done
A little bitter pool about a stone
On the bare coast.
But when Sir Lancelot told
This matter to the Queen, at first she laughed
Lightly, to think of Modred’s dusty fall,
Then laughed again, but faintlier, for indeed
She half-foresaw that he, the subtle beast,
Would be for evermore a name of scorn.
Henceforward rarely could she front in hall,
Or elsewhere, Modred’s narrow foxy face,
Heart-hiding smile, and gray persistent28 eye:
Henceforward too, the Powers that tend the soul,
To help it from the death that cannot die,
And save it even in extremes, began
In the dead night, grim faces came and went
Before her, or a vague spiritual fear—
Like to some doubtful noise of creaking doors,
Heard by the watcher in a haunted house,
Held her awake: or if she slept, she dreamed
An awful dream; for then she seemed to stand
On some vast plain before a setting sun,
And from the sun there swiftly made at her
A ghastly something, and its shadow flew
Before it, till it touched her, and she turned—
When lo! her own, that broadening from her feet,
And blackening, swallowed all the land, and in it
Far cities burnt, and with a cry she woke.
And all this trouble did not pass but grew;
Till even the clear face of the guileless King,
And trustful courtesies of household life,
Became her bane; and at the last she said,
“O Lancelot, get thee hence to thine own land,
For if thou tarry we shall meet again,
And if we meet again, some evil chance
Will make the smouldering scandal break and blaze
Before the people, and our lord the King.”
And Lancelot ever promised, but remained,
And still they met and met. Again she said,
“O Lancelot, if thou love me get thee hence.”
And then they were agreed upon a night
(When the good King should not be there) to meet
She told Sir Modred. Passion-pale they met
And greeted. Hands in hands, and eye to eye,
Low on the border of her couch they sat
Stammering33 and staring. It was their last hour,
A madness of farewells. And Modred brought
His creatures to the basement of the tower
Lancelot, who rushing outward lionlike
And all was still: then she, “The end is come,
And I am shamed for ever;” and he said,
“Mine be the shame; mine was the sin: but rise,
And fly to my strong castle overseas:
There will I hide thee, till my life shall end,
There hold thee with my life against the world.”
Would God that thou couldst hide me from myself!
Mine is the shame, for I was wife, and thou
Unwedded: yet rise now, and let us fly,
Set her thereon, and mounted on his own,
And then they rode to the divided way,
There kissed, and parted weeping: for he past,
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen,
Back to his land; but she to Almesbury
Fled all night long by glimmering43 waste and weald,
And heard the Spirits of the waste and weald
Moan as she fled, or thought she heard them moan:
And in herself she moaned “Too late, too late!”
Till in the cold wind that foreruns the morn,
For now the Heathen of the Northern Sea,
And when she came to Almesbury she spake
Pursue me, but, O peaceful Sisterhood,
Receive, and yield me sanctuary, nor ask
Her name to whom ye yield it, till her time
To tell you:” and her beauty, grace and power,
To ask it.
For many a week, unknown, among the nuns;
Nor with them mixed, nor told her name, nor sought,
Wrapt in her grief, for housel or for shrift,
But communed only with the little maid,
Which often lured her from herself; but now,
And leagued him with the heathen, while the King
Was waging war on Lancelot: then she thought,
“With what a hate the people and the King
Must hate me,” and bowed down upon her hands
No silence, brake it, uttering, “Late! so late!
What hour, I wonder, now?” and when she drew
No answer, by and by began to hum
An air the nuns had taught her; “Late, so late!”
Which when she heard, the Queen looked up, and said,
Sing, and unbind my heart that I may weep.”
Whereat full willingly sang the little maid.
“Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.
And learning this, the bridegroom will relent.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.
“No light: so late! and dark and chill the night!
O let us in, that we may find the light!
Too late, too late: ye cannot enter now.
“Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet?
O let us in, though late, to kiss his feet!
No, no, too late! ye cannot enter now.”
So sang the novice, while full passionately62,
Her head upon her hands, remembering
Her thought when first she came, wept the sad Queen.
“O pray you, noble lady, weep no more;
But let my words, the words of one so small,
Who knowing nothing knows but to obey,
Comfort your sorrows; for they do not flow
From evil done; right sure am I of that,
Who see your tender grace and stateliness.
But weigh your sorrows with our lord the King’s,
And weighing find them less; for gone is he
To wage grim war against Sir Lancelot there,
Round that strong castle where he holds the Queen;
And Modred whom he left in charge of all,
The traitor—Ah sweet lady, the King’s grief
For his own self, and his own Queen, and realm,
Must needs be thrice as great as any of ours.
For me, I thank the saints, I am not great.
For if there ever come a grief to me
I cry my cry in silence, and have done.
None knows it, and my tears have brought me good:
But even were the griefs of little ones
As great as those of great ones, yet this grief
Is added to the griefs the great must bear,
That howsoever much they may desire
Silence, they cannot weep behind a cloud:
As even here they talk at Almesbury
About the good King and his wicked Queen,
And were I such a King with such a Queen,
Well might I wish to veil her wickedness,
But were I such a King, it could not be.”
Then to her own sad heart muttered the Queen,
“Will the child kill me with her innocent talk?”
But openly she answered, “Must not I,
If this false traitor have displaced his lord,
Grieve with the common grief of all the realm?”
“Yea,” said the maid, “this is all woman’s grief,
That she is woman, whose disloyal life
Hath wrought confusion in the Table Round
Which good King Arthur founded, years ago,
With signs and miracles and wonders, there
At Camelot, ere the coming of the Queen.”
Then thought the Queen within herself again,
But openly she spake and said to her,
“O little maid, shut in by nunnery walls,
What canst thou know of Kings and Tables Round,
Or what of signs and wonders, but the signs
And simple miracles of thy nunnery?”
To whom the little novice garrulously66,
“Yea, but I know: the land was full of signs
And wonders ere the coming of the Queen.
So said my father, and himself was knight
Of the great Table—at the founding of it;
And rode thereto from Lyonnesse, and he said
That as he rode, an hour or maybe twain
After the sunset, down the coast, he heard
Strange music, and he paused, and turning—there,
All down the lonely coast of Lyonnesse,
Each with a beacon-star upon his head,
And with a wild sea-light about his feet,
He saw them—headland after headland flame
Far on into the rich heart of the west:
And in the light the white mermaiden swam,
And strong man-breasted things stood from the sea,
And sent a deep sea-voice through all the land,
Made answer, sounding like a distant horn.
So said my father—yea, and furthermore,
Next morning, while he past the dim-lit woods,
Come dashing down on a tall wayside flower,
That shook beneath them, as the thistle shakes
And still at evenings on before his horse
The flickering71 fairy-circle wheeled and broke
Flying, and linked again, and wheeled and broke
Flying, for all the land was full of life.
And when at last he came to Camelot,
A wreath of airy dancers hand-in-hand
Swung round the lighted lantern of the hall;
And in the hall itself was such a feast
As never man had dreamed; for every knight
Had whatsoever72 meat he longed for served
By hands unseen; and even as he said
Down in the cellars merry bloated things
While the wine ran: so glad were spirits and men
Before the coming of the sinful Queen.”
Then spake the Queen and somewhat bitterly,
“Were they so glad? ill prophets were they all,
Spirits and men: could none of them foresee,
Not even thy wise father with his signs
And wonders, what has fallen upon the realm?”
To whom the novice garrulously again,
Full many a noble war-song had he sung,
Even in the presence of an enemy’s fleet,
Between the steep cliff and the coming wave;
And many a mystic lay of life and death
Had chanted on the smoky mountain-tops,
With all their dewy hair blown back like flame:
So said my father—and that night the bard
Sang Arthur’s glorious wars, and sang the King
As wellnigh more than man, and railed at those
Who called him the false son of Gorlois:
For there was no man knew from whence he came;
But after tempest, when the long wave broke
All down the thundering shores of Bude and Bos,
There came a day as still as heaven, and then
They found a naked child upon the sands
Of dark Tintagil by the Cornish sea;
And that was Arthur; and they fostered him
Till he by miracle was approven King:
And that his grave should be a mystery
From all men, like his birth; and could he find
A woman in her womanhood as great
As he was in his manhood, then, he sang,
The twain together well might change the world.
But even in the middle of his song
And pale he turned, and reeled, and would have fallen,
But that they stayed him up; nor would he tell
His vision; but what doubt that he foresaw
This evil work of Lancelot and the Queen?”
Then thought the Queen, “Lo! they have set her on,
Our simple-seeming Abbess and her nuns,
To play upon me,” and bowed her head nor spake.
Whereat the novice crying, with clasped hands,
Full often, “and, sweet lady, if I seem
To vex an ear too sad to listen to me,
Unmannerly, with prattling and the tales
Which my good father told me, check me too
Nor let me shame my father’s memory, one
Of noblest manners, though himself would say
Sir Lancelot had the noblest; and he died,
And left me; but of others who remain,
And of the two first-famed for courtesy—
And pray you check me if I ask amiss—
But pray you, which had noblest, while you moved
Among them, Lancelot or our lord the King?”
Then the pale Queen looked up and answered her,
“Sir Lancelot, as became a noble knight,
Was gracious to all ladies, and the same
In open battle or the tilting-field
Forbore his own advantage, and the King
In open battle or the tilting-field
Forbore his own advantage, and these two
Were the most nobly-mannered men of all;
For manners are not idle, but the fruit
Of loyal nature, and of noble mind.”
“Yea,” said the maid, “be manners such fair fruit?”
Then Lancelot’s needs must be a thousand-fold
Less noble, being, as all rumour runs,
The most disloyal friend in all the world.”
To which a mournful answer made the Queen:
“O closed about by narrowing nunnery-walls,
What knowest thou of the world, and all its lights
If ever Lancelot, that most noble knight,
Were for one hour less noble than himself,
Pray for him that he scape the doom of fire,
And weep for her that drew him to his doom.”
“Yea,” said the little novice, “I pray for both;
But I should all as soon believe that his,
Sir Lancelot’s, were as noble as the King’s,
As I could think, sweet lady, yours would be
Such as they are, were you the sinful Queen.”
So she, like many another babbler, hurt
For here a sudden flush of wrathful heat
Fired all the pale face of the Queen, who cried,
“Such as thou art be never maiden more
For ever! thou their tool, set on to plague
And traitress.” When that storm of anger brake
From Guinevere, aghast the maiden rose,
White as her veil, and stood before the Queen
Stands in a wind, ready to break and fly,
And when the Queen had added “Get thee hence,”
Fled frighted. Then that other left alone
Sighed, and began to gather heart again,
Saying in herself, “The simple, fearful child
Meant nothing, but my own too-fearful guilt,
Simpler than any child, betrays itself.
But help me, heaven, for surely I repent.
For what is true repentance86 but in thought—
Not even in inmost thought to think again
The sins that made the past so pleasant to us:
And I have sworn never to see him more,
To see him more.”
And even in saying this,
Her memory from old habit of the mind
Went slipping back upon the golden days
In which she saw him first, when Lancelot came,
Reputed the best knight and goodliest man,
Ambassador, to lead her to his lord
Rapt in sweet talk or lively, all on love
Was maytime, and as yet no sin was dreamed,)
Of blossom, over sheets of hyacinth
That seemed the heavens upbreaking through the earth,
And on from hill to hill, and every day
Beheld at noon in some delicious dale
The silk pavilions of King Arthur raised
By couriers gone before; and on again,
Till yet once more ere set of sun they saw
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship,
That crowned the state pavilion of the King,
But when the Queen immersed in such a trance,
And moving through the past unconsciously,
Came to that point where first she saw the King
Ride toward her from the city, sighed to find
Her journey done, glanced at him, thought him cold,
High, self-contained, and passionless, not like him,
“Not like my Lancelot”—while she brooded thus
And grew half-guilty in her thoughts again,
A murmuring whisper through the nunnery ran,
Then on a sudden a cry, “The King.” She sat
Stiff-stricken, listening; but when armed feet
Through the long gallery from the outer doors
There with her milkwhite arms and shadowy hair
She made her face a darkness from the King:
And in the darkness heard his armed feet
Pause by her; then came silence, then a voice,
Monotonous95 and hollow like a Ghost’s
“Liest thou here so low, the child of one
I honoured, happy, dead before thy shame?
Well is it that no child is born of thee.
The children born of thee are sword and fire,
Red ruin, and the breaking up of laws,
The craft of kindred and the Godless hosts
Whom I, while yet Sir Lancelot, my right arm,
Have everywhere about this land of Christ
In twelve great battles ruining overthrown100.
And knowest thou now from whence I come—from him
From waging bitter war with him: and he,
Had yet that grace of courtesy in him left,
He spared to lift his hand against the King
Clave to him, and abode in his own land.
And many more when Modred raised revolt,
To Modred, and a remnant stays with me.
And of this remnant will I leave a part,
True men who love me still, for whom I live,
To guard thee in the wild hour coming on,
Lest but a hair of this low head be harmed.
Fear not: thou shalt be guarded till my death.
Howbeit I know, if ancient prophecies
Thou hast not made my life so sweet to me,
That I the King should greatly care to live;
For thou hast spoilt the purpose of my life.
Bear with me for the last time while I show,
Even for thy sake, the sin which thou hast sinned.
For when the Roman left us, and their law
Relaxed its hold upon us, and the ways
Were filled with rapine, here and there a deed
But I was first of all the kings who drew
The knighthood-errant of this realm and all
The realms together under me, their Head,
In that fair Order of my Table Round,
A glorious company, the flower of men,
And be the fair beginning of a time.
I made them lay their hands in mine and swear
Their conscience, and their conscience as their King,
To break the heathen and uphold the Christ,
To ride abroad redressing110 human wrongs,
To honour his own word as if his God’s,
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity,
And worship her by years of noble deeds,
Until they won her; for indeed I knew
Of no more subtle master under heaven
Than is the maiden passion for a maid,
Not only to keep down the base in man,
And courtliness, and the desire of fame,
And love of truth, and all that makes a man.
Believing, ‘lo mine helpmate, one to feel
My purpose and rejoicing in my joy.’
Then came the sin of Tristram and Isolt;
Then others, following these my mightiest knights,
And all through thee! so that this life of mine
Not greatly care to lose; but rather think
How sad it were for Arthur, should he live,
To sit once more within his lonely hall,
And miss the wonted number of my knights,
And miss to hear high talk of noble deeds
As in the golden days before thy sin.
For which of us, who might be left, could speak
Of the pure heart, nor seem to glance at thee?
And I should evermore be vext with thee
Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair.
For think not, though thou wouldst not love thy lord,
Thy lord hast wholly lost his love for thee.
I am not made of so slight elements.
Yet must I leave thee, woman, to thy shame.
Who either for his own or children’s sake,
To save his blood from scandal, lets the wife
Her station, taken everywhere for pure,
She like a new disease, unknown to men,
Creeps, no precaution used, among the crowd,
Makes wicked lightnings of her eyes, and saps
The fealty of our friends, and stirs the pulse
With devil’s leaps, and poisons half the young.
Than thou reseated in thy place of light,
The mockery of my people, and their bane.”
He paused, and in the pause she crept an inch
Nearer, and laid her hands about his feet.
Then waiting by the doors the warhorse neighed
At a friend’s voice, and he spake again:
“Yet think not that I come to urge thy crimes,
I did not come to curse thee, Guinevere,
I, whose vast pity almost makes me die
To see thee, laying there thy golden head,
My pride in happier summers, at my feet.
The doom of treason and the flaming death,
(When first I learnt thee hidden here) is past.
The pang—which while I weighed thy heart with one
Too wholly true to dream untruth in thee,
Made my tears burn—is also past—in part.
And all is past, the sin is sinned, and I,
Lo! I forgive thee, as Eternal God
Forgives: do thou for thine own soul the rest.
But how to take last leave of all I loved?
O golden hair, with which I used to play
Not knowing! O imperial-moulded form,
And beauty such as never woman wore,
Until it became a kingdom’s curse with thee—
I cannot touch thy lips, they are not mine,
But Lancelot’s: nay, they never were the King’s.
I cannot take thy hand: that too is flesh,
And in the flesh thou hast sinned; and mine own flesh,
Here looking down on thine polluted, cries
My love through flesh hath wrought into my life
So far, that my doom is, I love thee still.
Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul,
And so thou lean on our fair father Christ,
Hereafter in that world where all are pure
We two may meet before high God, and thou
Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know
I am thine husband—not a smaller soul,
Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that,
I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence.
Through the thick night I hear the trumpet blow:
They summon me their King to lead mine hosts
Far down to that great battle in the west,
Where I must strike against the man they call
My sister’s son—no kin of mine, who leagues
With Lords of the White Horse, heathen, and knights,
Traitors—and strike him dead, and meet myself
Death, or I know not what mysterious doom.
And thou remaining here wilt learn the event;
But hither shall I never come again,
Never lie by thy side; see thee no more—
Farewell!”
And while she grovelled at his feet,
She felt the King’s breath wander o’er her neck,
And in the darkness o’er her fallen head,
Perceived the waving of his hands that blest.
Then, listening till those armed steps were gone,
The casement: “peradventure,” so she thought,
“If I might see his face, and not be seen.”
And lo, he sat on horseback at the door!
And near him the sad nuns with each a light
Stood, and he gave them charge about the Queen,
To guard and foster her for evermore.
And while he spake to these his helm was lowered,
Of Britain; so she did not see the face,
Which then was as an angel’s, but she saw,
The Dragon of the great Pendragonship
Blaze, making all the night a steam of fire.
And even then he turned; and more and more
The moony vapour rolling round the King,
Enwound him fold by fold, and made him gray
And grayer, till himself became as mist
Before her, moving ghostlike to his doom.
Then she stretched out her arms and cried aloud
“Oh Arthur!” there her voice brake suddenly,
Re-makes itself, and flashes down the vale—
“Gone—my lord!
Gone through my sin to slay and to be slain!
And he forgave me, and I could not speak.
Farewell? I should have answered his farewell.
His mercy choked me. Gone, my lord the King,
My own true lord! how dare I call him mine?
And makes me one pollution: he, the King,
Called me polluted: shall I kill myself?
What help in that? I cannot kill my sin,
If soul be soul; nor can I kill my shame;
No, nor by living can I live it down.
The days will grow to weeks, the weeks to months
The months will add themselves and make the years,
The years will roll into the centuries,
And mine will ever be a name of scorn.
I must not dwell on that defeat of fame.
Let the world be; that is but of the world.
What else? what hope? I think there was a hope,
Except he mocked me when he spake of hope;
His hope he called it; but he never mocks,
And blessed be the King, who hath forgiven
My wickedness to him, and left me hope
That in mine own heart I can live down sin
And be his mate hereafter in the heavens
Before high God. Ah great and gentle lord,
Who wast, as is the conscience of a saint
Among his warring senses, to thy knights—
To whom my false voluptuous140 pride, that took
Full easily all impressions from below,
Would not look up, or half-despised the height
To which I would not or I could not climb—
I thought I could not breathe in that fine air
That pure severity of perfect light—
In Lancelot—now I see thee what thou art,
Thou art the highest and most human too,
Not Lancelot, nor another. Is there none
Will tell the King I love him though so late?
Now—ere he goes to the great Battle? none:
Myself must tell him in that purer life,
But now it were too daring. Ah my God,
What might I not have made of thy fair world,
Had I but loved thy highest creature here?
It was my duty to have loved the highest:
It surely was my profit had I known:
It would have been my pleasure had I seen.
We needs must love the highest when we see it,
Not Lancelot, nor another.”
Here her hand
Grasped, made her vail her eyes: she looked and saw
“Yea, little maid, for am I not forgiven?”
Then glancing up beheld the holy nuns
All round her, weeping; and her heart was loosed
Within her, and she wept with these and said,
“Ye know me then, that wicked one, who broke
The vast design and purpose of the King.
O shut me round with narrowing nunnery-walls,
I must not scorn myself: he loves me still.
Let no one dream but that he loves me still.
So let me, if you do not shudder at me,
Nor shun to call me sister, dwell with you;
Fast with your fasts, not feasting with your feasts;
Grieve with your griefs, not grieving at your joys,
Do each low office of your holy house;
To poor sick people, richer in His eyes
And treat their loathsome hurts and heal mine own;
And so wear out in almsdeed and in prayer
The sombre close of that voluptuous day,
Which wrought the ruin of my lord the King.”
She said: they took her to themselves; and she
Still hoping, fearing “is it yet too late?”
Dwelt with them, till in time their Abbess died.
Then she, for her good deeds and her pure life,
And for the power of ministration in her,
And likewise for the high rank she had borne,
Was chosen Abbess, there, an Abbess, lived
For three brief years, and there, an Abbess, past
To where beyond these voices there is peace.
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收听单词发音
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1
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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2
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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3
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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4
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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5
disparagement
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| n.轻视，轻蔑 | |
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6
tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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7
feuds
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| n.长期不和，世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
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8
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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9
traitorous
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| adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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10
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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11
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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12
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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13
lissome
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| adj.柔软的；敏捷的 | |
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14
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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15
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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16
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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17
reverencing
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| v.尊敬，崇敬( reverence的现在分词 )；敬礼 | |
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18
knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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19
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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20
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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21
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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22
rankled
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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24
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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25
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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26
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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27
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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28
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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29
vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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30
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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31
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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32
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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33
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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34
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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35
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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36
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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37
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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38
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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39
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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41
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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42
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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43
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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44
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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45
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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46
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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47
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
frailties
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| n.脆弱( frailty的名词复数 )；虚弱；（性格或行为上的）弱点；缺点 | |
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49
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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50
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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51
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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52
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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53
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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54
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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55
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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56
usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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57
brooked
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| 容忍，忍受（brook的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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58
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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59
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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60
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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61
passionate
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| 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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62
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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63
prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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64
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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65
prate
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| v.瞎扯，胡说 | |
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66
garrulously
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67
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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68
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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69
beheld
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| 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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70
wrangle
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| vi.争吵 | |
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71
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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72
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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73
butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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74
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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75
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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76
mid
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| adj.中央的，中间的 | |
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77
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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78
garrulity
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| n.饶舌，多嘴 | |
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79
gadding
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| n.叮搔症adj.蔓生的v.闲逛( gad的现在分词 )；游荡；找乐子；用铁棒刺 | |
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80
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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81
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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82
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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83
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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84
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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85
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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86
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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87
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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88
retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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89
tilts
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| （意欲赢得某物或战胜某人的）企图，尝试( tilt的名词复数 ) | |
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90
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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91
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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92
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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93
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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94
grovelled
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| v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的过去式和过去分词 )；趴 | |
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95
monotonous
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|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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96
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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97
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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98
mightiest
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| adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 )；巨大的；强有力的；浩瀚的 | |
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99
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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100
overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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101
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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102
smite
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| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
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103
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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104
fealty
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| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
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105
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
redressed
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| v.改正( redress的过去式和过去分词 )；重加权衡；恢复平衡 | |
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107
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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108
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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109
reverence
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| 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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110
redressing
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| v.改正( redress的现在分词 )；重加权衡；恢复平衡 | |
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111
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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112
cleave
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| v．(clave；cleaved)粘着，粘住；坚持；依恋 | |
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113
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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114
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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115
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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116
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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117
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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118
scathe
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| v.损伤；n.伤害 | |
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119
bowers
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| 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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120
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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121
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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122
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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123
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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124
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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125
reigns
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| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
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126
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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127
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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128
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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129
loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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130
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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131
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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132
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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133
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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134
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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135
spouting
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| n.水落管系统v.（指液体）喷出( spout的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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136
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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137
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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138
cleaves
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| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的第三人称单数 ) | |
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139
fume
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| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
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140
voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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141
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
suppliant
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| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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143
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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144
maidens
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| 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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145
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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146
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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147
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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148
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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149
dole
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| n.救济，（失业）救济金；vt.（out）发放，发给 | |
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150
ransomed
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| 付赎金救人，赎金( ransom的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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