“Why should it matter that I remember her name?” he mused—“I shall never speak of her—for I have sworn I will not. But I can think of her to my heart’s content,—the beautiful Lilith!”
Then he fell to considering the old legend of that Lilith who it is said was Adam’s first wife,—and he smiled as he thought what a name of evil omen18 it was to the Jews, who had charms and talismans21 wherewith to exorcise the supposed evil influence connected with it,—while to him, Féraz, it was a name sweeter than honey-sweet singing. Then there came to his mind stray snatches of poesy,—delicate rhymes from the rich and varied22 stores of one of his favourite poets, Dante Gabriel Rossetti,—rhymes that sounded in his ears just now like the strophes of a sibylline23 chant or spell:
“It was Lilith the wife of Adam:
Not a drop of her blood was human,
But she was made like a soft sweet woman.”
“And that is surely true!” said Féraz to himself, a little startled,—“For—if she is dead, as El-Râmi asserts, and her seeming life is but the result of his art, then indeed in the case of this Lilith ‘not a drop of her blood is human.’”
And the poem ran on in his mind—
“Lilith stood on the skirts of Eden:
(Alas, the hour!)
She was the first that thence was driven:
With her was hell, and with Eve was heaven.”
“Nay, I should transpose that,”—murmured the young man drowsily25, staring out on the moonlit street—“I should say, ‘With Eve was hell, and with Lilith heaven.’ How strange it is I should never have thought of this poem before!—and I have often turned over the pages of Rossetti’s book,—since—since I saw her;—I must have actually seen the name of Lilith printed there, and yet it never suggested itself to me as being familiar or offering any sort of clue.”
He sighed perplexedly,—the heliotrope odours floated around him, and the gleam of the lamp in the room seemed to pale in the wide splendour of the moon-rays pouring through the window,—and still the delicate sprite of Poesy continued to remind him of familiar lines and verses he loved, though all the while he thought of Lilith, and kept on wondering vaguely26 and vainly what would be, what could be, the end of his brother’s experiment (whatever that was, for he, Féraz, did not know) on the lovely, apparently27 living girl who yet was dead. It was very strange—and surely, it was also very terrible!
“The day is dark and the night
To him that would search their heart;
No lips of cloud that will part,
Nor morning song in the light:
Only, gazing alone
To him wild shadows are shown,
Deep under deep unknown
And height above unknown height.
Still we say as we go,—
‘Strange to think by the way,
Whatever there is to know,
That shall we know one day.’”
This passage of rhyme sang itself out with a monotonous28 musical gentleness in his brain,—he closed his eyes restfully,—and then—lying back thus in his chair by the open window, with the moonlight casting a wide halo round him and giving a pale spiritual beauty to his delicate classic features,—he passed away out of his body, as he would have said, and was no more on earth; or rather, as we should say, he fell asleep and dreamed. And the “dream” or the “experience” was this:—
He found himself walking leisurely29 upon the slopes of a majestic30 mountain, which seemed not so much mountain as garden, for all the winding31 paths leading to its summit were fringed with flowers. He heard the silvery plashing of brooks32 and fountains, and the rustling33 of thickly-foliaged trees,—he knew the place well, and realised that he was in his “star” again,—the mystic Sphere he called his “home.” But he was evidently an exile or an alien in it,—he had grown to realise this fact and was sorry it should be so, yet his sorrow was mingled34 with hope, for he felt it would not always be so. He wandered along aimlessly and alone, full of a curiously35 vague happiness and regret, and as he walked he was passed by crowds of beautiful youths and maidens37, who were all pressing forward eagerly as to some high festival or great assembly. They sang blithe38 songs,—they scattered39 flowers,—they talked with each other in happy-toned voices,—and he stood aside gazing at them wistfully while they went on rejoicing.
“O land where life never grows old and where love is eternal!” he mused—“Why am I exiled from thy glory? Why have I lost thy joy?”
He sighed;—he longed to know what had brought together so bright a multitude of these lovely and joyous40 beings,—his own “dear people” as he felt they were; and yet—yet he hesitated to ask one of them the least question, feeling himself unworthy. At last he saw a girl approaching,—she was singing to herself and tying flowers in a garland as she came,—her loose golden hair streamed behind her, every glistening41 tress seeming to flash light as she moved. As she drew near him she glanced at him kindly42 and paused as though waiting to be addressed,—seeing this, he mustered43 up his courage and spoke44.
“Whither are you all going?” he asked, with a sad gentleness—“I may not follow you, I know,—but will you tell me why, in this kingdom of joy, so much fresh joy seems added?”
She pointed45 upwards46, and as his eyes obeyed her gesture he saw, in the opal-coloured sky that bent47 above them, a dazzling blaze of gold and crimson48 glory towards the south.
“An Angel passes!” she replied—“Below that line of light the Earth swings round in its little orbit, and from the Earth She comes! We go to watch her flight heavenward, and win the benediction49 that her passing presence gives. For look you!—all that splendour in the sky is not light, but wings!”
“Wings!” echoed Féraz dreamily, yet nothing doubting what she said.
“Wings or rays of glory,—which you will”—said the maiden36, turning her own beautiful eyes towards the flashing brilliancy; “They are waiting there,—those who come from the farthest Divine world,—they are the friends of Lilith.”
She bent her head serenely51, and passed onward52 and upward, and Féraz stood still, his gaze fixed in the direction of that southern light which he now perceived was never still, but quivered as with a million shafts53 of vari-coloured fire.
“The friends of Lilith!” he repeated to himself—“Angels then,—for she is an Angel.”
Angels!—angels waiting for Lilith in the glory of the South! How long—how long would they wait?—when would Lilith herself appear?—and would the very heavens open to receive her, soaring upward? He trembled,—he tried to realise the unimaginable scene,—and then, ... then he seemed to be seized and hurried away somewhere against his will ... and all that was light grew dark. He shuddered54 as with icy cold, and felt that earth again encompassed55 him,—and presently he woke—to find his brother looking at him.
“Why in the world do you go to sleep with the window wide open?” asked El-Râmi—“Here I find you, literally56 bathed in the moonlight—and moonlight drives men mad, they say,—so fast too in the land of Nod that I could hardly waken you. Shut the window, my dear boy, if you must sleep.”
Féraz sprang up quickly,—his eyes felt dazzled still with the remembrance of that “glory of the angels in the South.”
“I was not asleep,”—he said—“But certainly I was not here.”
“Ah!—In your Star again of course!” murmured El-Râmi with the faintest trace of mockery in his tone. But Féraz took no offence—his one anxiety was to prevent the name of “Lilith” springing to his lips in spite of himself.
“Yes—I was there”—he answered slowly. “And do you know all the people in the land are gathering57 together by thousands to see an Angel pass heavenward? And there is a glory of her sister-angels, away in the Southern horizon like the splendid circle described by Dante in his Paradiso. Thus—
“‘There is a light in heaven whose goodly shine
Makes the Creator visible to all
Created, that in seeing Him alone
Have peace. And in a circle spreads so far
That the circumference58 were too loose a zone
To girdle in the sun!’”
He quoted the lines with strange eagerness and fervour,—and El-Râmi looked at him curiously.
“What odd dreams you have!” he said, not unkindly—“Always fantastic and impossible, but beautiful in their way. You should set them down in black and white, and see how earth’s critics will bespatter your heaven with the ink of their office pens! Poor boy!—how limply you would fall from ‘Paradise’!—with what damp dejected wings!”
Féraz smiled.
“I do not agree with you”—he said—“If you speak of imagination,—only in this case I am not imagining,—no one can shut out that Paradise from me at any time—neither pope nor king, nor critic. Thought is free, thank God!”
“Yes—perhaps it is the only thing we have to be really thankful for,”—returned El-Râmi—“Well—I will leave you to resume your ‘dreams’—only don’t sleep with the windows open. Summer evenings are treacherous,—I should advise you to get to bed.”
“And you?” asked Féraz, moved by a sudden anxiety which he could not explain.
“I shall not sleep to-night,”—said his brother moodily—“Something has occurred to me—a suggestion—an idea which I am impatient to work out without loss of time. And, Féraz,—if I succeed in it—you shall know the result to-morrow.”
This promise, which implied such a new departure from El-Râmi’s customary reticence59 concerning his work, really alarmed Féraz more than gratified him.
“For Heaven’s sake be careful!” he exclaimed—“You attempt so much,—you want so much,—perhaps more than can in law and justice be given. El-Râmi, my brother, leave something to God—you cannot, you dare not take all!”
“My dear visionary,” replied El-Râmi gently—“You alarm yourself needlessly, I assure you. I do not want to take anything except what is my own,—and, as for leaving something to God, why, He is welcome to what He makes of me in the end—a pinch of dust!”
“There is more than dust in your composition—” cried Féraz impetuously—“There is divinity! And the divinity belongs to God, and to God you must render it up, pure and perfect. He claims it from you, and you are bound to give it.”
“If that be true, Féraz,” he said slowly and with emphasis—“if it indeed be true that there is divinity in me,—which I doubt!—why, then let God claim and take his own particle of fire when He will, and as He will! Good-night!”
Féraz caught his hands and pressed them tenderly in his own.
“Good-night!” he murmured—“God does all things well, and to His care I commend you, my dearest brother.”
And as El-Râmi turned away and left the room he gazed after him with a chill sense of fear and desolation,—almost as if he were doomed61 never to see him again. He could not reason his alarm away, and yet he knew not why he should feel any alarm,—but, truth to tell, his interior sense of vision seemed still to smart and ache with the radiance of the light he had seen in his “star” and that roseate sunset-flush of “glory in the south” created by the clustering angels who were “the friends of Lilith.” Why were they there?—what did they wait for?—how should Lilith know them or have any intention of joining them, when she was here,—here on the earth, as he, Féraz, knew,—here under the supreme62 dominance of his own brother? He dared not speculate too far; and, trying to dismiss all thought from his mind, he was proceeding63 towards his own room, there to retire for the night, when he met Zaroba coming down the stairs. Her dark withered64 face had a serene50 and almost happy expression upon it,—she smiled as she saw him.
“It is a night for dreams,—” she said, sinking her harsh voice to a soft almost musical cadence—“And as the multitude of the stars in heaven, so are the countless65 heart-throbs that pulsate66 in the world at this hour to the silver sway of the moon. All over the world!—all over the world!—” and she swung her arms to and fro with a slow rhythmical67 movement, so that the silver bangles on them clashed softly like the subdued68 tinkling69 of bells;—then, fixing her black eyes upon Féraz with a mournful yet kindly gaze she added—“Not for you—not for you, gentlest of dreamers! not for you! It is destined70 that you should dream,—and, for you, dreaming is best,—but for me—I would rather live one hour than dream for a century!”
Her words were vague and wild as usual,—yet somehow Féraz chafed71 under the hidden sense of them, and he gave a slight petulant72 gesture of irritation73. Zaroba, seeing it, broke into a low laugh.
“As God liveth,—” she muttered—“The poor lad fights bravely! He hates the world without ever having known it,—and recoils74 from love without ever having tasted it! He chooses a thought, a rhyme, a song, an art, rather than a passion! Poor lad—poor lad! Dream on, child!—but pray that you may never wake. For to dream of love may be sweet, but to wake without it is bitter.”
Like a gliding75 wraith76 she passed him and disappeared. Féraz had a mind to follow her down stairs to the basement where she had the sort of rough sleeping accommodation her half-savage nature preferred, whenever she slept at all out of Lilith’s room, which was but seldom,—yet on second thoughts he decided77 he would let her alone.
“She only worries me—” he said to himself half vexedly as he went to his own little apartment—“It was she who first disobeyed El-Râmi, and made me disobey him also, and though she did take me to see the wonderful Lilith, what was the use of it? Her matchless beauty compelled my adoration78, my enthusiasm, my reverence79, almost my love—but who could dare to love such a removed angelic creature? Not even El-Râmi himself,—for he must know, even as I feel, that she is beyond all love, save the Love Divine.”
He cast off his loose Eastern dress, and prepared to lie down, when he was startled by a faint far sound of singing. He listened attentively;—it seemed to come from outside, and he quickly flung open his window, which only opened upon a little narrow backyard such as is common to London houses. But the moonlight transfigured its ugliness, making it look like a square white court set in walls of silver. The soft rays fell caressingly80 too on the bare bronze-tinted shoulders of Féraz, as half undressed, he leaned out, his eyes upturned to the halcyon81 heavens. Surely, surely there was singing somewhere,—why, he could distinguish words amid the sounds!
Away, away!
Where the glittering planets whirl and swim
And the glory of the sun grows dim
Away, away!
To the regions of light and fire and air
Where the spirits of life are everywhere
Come, oh come away!
Trembling in every limb, Féraz caught the song distinctly, and held his breath in fear and wonder.
Away, away!
Come, oh come! we have waited long
And we sing thee now a summoning song
Away, away!
Thou art freed from the world of the dreaming dead,
And the splendours of Heaven are round thee spread—
Come away!—away!
The chorus grew fainter and fainter—yet still sounded like a distant musical hum on the air.
“It is my fancy”—murmured Féraz at last, as he drew in his head and noiselessly shut the window—“It is the work of my own imagination, or what is perhaps more probable, the work of El-Râmi’s will. I have heard such music before,—at his bidding—no, not such music, but something very like it.”
He waited a few minutes, then quietly knelt down to pray,—but no words suggested themselves, save the phrase that once before had risen to his lips that day,—“God defend Lilith!”
He uttered it aloud,—then sprang up confused and half afraid, for the name had rung out so clearly that it seemed like a call or a command.
“Well!” he said, trying to steady his nerves—“What if I did say it? There is no harm in the words ‘God defend her.’ If she is dead, as El-Râmi says, she needs no defence, for her soul belongs to God already.”
He paused again,—the silence everywhere was now absolutely unbroken and intense, and repelling82 the vague presentiments83 that threatened to oppress his mind, he threw himself on his bed and was soon sound asleep.
点击收听单词发音
1 tranquillity | |
n. 平静, 安静 | |
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2 hovered | |
鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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3 permeate | |
v.弥漫,遍布,散布;渗入,渗透 | |
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4 densely | |
ad.密集地;浓厚地 | |
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5 glimmered | |
v.发闪光,发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 heliotrope | |
n.天芥菜;淡紫色 | |
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7 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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8 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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9 mingle | |
vt.使混合,使相混;vi.混合起来;相交往 | |
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10 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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11 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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12 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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13 ignominiously | |
adv.耻辱地,屈辱地,丢脸地 | |
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14 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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15 inexplicable | |
adj.无法解释的,难理解的 | |
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16 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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17 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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18 omen | |
n.征兆,预兆;vt.预示 | |
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19 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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20 lessened | |
减少的,减弱的 | |
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21 talismans | |
n.护身符( talisman的名词复数 );驱邪物;有不可思议的力量之物;法宝 | |
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22 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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23 sibylline | |
adj.预言的;神巫的 | |
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24 bower | |
n.凉亭,树荫下凉快之处;闺房;v.荫蔽 | |
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25 drowsily | |
adv.睡地,懒洋洋地,昏昏欲睡地 | |
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26 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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27 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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28 monotonous | |
adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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29 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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30 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
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31 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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32 brooks | |
n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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33 rustling | |
n. 瑟瑟声,沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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34 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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35 curiously | |
adv.有求知欲地;好问地;奇特地 | |
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36 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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37 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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38 blithe | |
adj.快乐的,无忧无虑的 | |
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39 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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40 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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41 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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42 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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43 mustered | |
v.集合,召集,集结(尤指部队)( muster的过去式和过去分词 );(自他人处)搜集某事物;聚集;激发 | |
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44 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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45 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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46 upwards | |
adv.向上,在更高处...以上 | |
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47 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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48 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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49 benediction | |
n.祝福;恩赐 | |
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50 serene | |
adj. 安详的,宁静的,平静的 | |
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51 serenely | |
adv.安详地,宁静地,平静地 | |
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52 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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53 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
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54 shuddered | |
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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55 encompassed | |
v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 );包围;包含;包括 | |
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56 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
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57 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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58 circumference | |
n.圆周,周长,圆周线 | |
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59 reticence | |
n.沉默,含蓄 | |
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60 tremor | |
n.震动,颤动,战栗,兴奋,地震 | |
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61 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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62 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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63 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
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64 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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65 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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66 pulsate | |
v.有规律的跳动 | |
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67 rhythmical | |
adj.有节奏的,有韵律的 | |
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68 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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69 tinkling | |
n.丁当作响声 | |
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70 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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71 chafed | |
v.擦热(尤指皮肤)( chafe的过去式 );擦痛;发怒;惹怒 | |
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72 petulant | |
adj.性急的,暴躁的 | |
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73 irritation | |
n.激怒,恼怒,生气 | |
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74 recoils | |
n.(尤指枪炮的)反冲,后坐力( recoil的名词复数 )v.畏缩( recoil的第三人称单数 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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75 gliding | |
v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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76 wraith | |
n.幽灵;骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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77 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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78 adoration | |
n.爱慕,崇拜 | |
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79 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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80 caressingly | |
爱抚地,亲切地 | |
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81 halcyon | |
n.平静的,愉快的 | |
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82 repelling | |
v.击退( repel的现在分词 );使厌恶;排斥;推开 | |
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83 presentiments | |
n.(对不祥事物的)预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
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