There now only remains1 the geography of our country to be treated of before the history is commenced. Now the most striking difference between the country as we know it and as it was known to the ancients is the existence of the great Lake in the centre of the island. From the Red Rocks (by the Severn) hither, the most direct route a galley2 can follow is considered to be about 200 miles in length, and it is a journey which often takes a week even for a vessel3 well manned, because the course, as it turns round the islands, faces so many points of the compass, and therefore the oarsmen are sure to have to labour in the teeth of the wind, no matter which way it blows.
Many parts are still unexplored, and scarce anything known of their extent, even by repute. Until Felix Aquila’s time, the greater portion, indeed, had not even a name. Each community was well acquainted with the bay before its own city, and with the route to the next, but beyond that they were ignorant, and had no desire to learn. Yet the Lake cannot really be so long and broad as it seems, for the country could not contain it. The length is increased, almost trebled, by the islands and shoals, which will not permit of navigation in a straight line. For the most part, too, they follow the southern shore of the mainland, which is protected by a fringe of islets and banks from the storms which sweep over the open waters.
Thus rowing along round the gulfs and promontories4, their voyage is thrice prolonged, but rendered nearly safe from the waves, which rise with incredible celerity before the gales6. The slow ships of commerce, indeed, are often days in traversing the distance between one port and another, for they wait for the wind to blow abaft8, and being heavy, deeply laden9, built broad and flat-bottomed for shallows, and bluff10 at the bows, they drift like logs of timber. In canoes the hunters, indeed, sometimes pass swiftly from one place to another, venturing farther out to sea than the ships. They could pass yet more quickly were it not for the inquisition of the authorities at every city and port, who not only levy11 dues and fees for the treasury12 of the prince, and for their own rapacious13 desires, but demand whence the vessel comes, to whom she belongs, and whither she is bound, so that no ship can travel rapidly unless so armed as to shake off these inquisitors.
The canoes, therefore, travel at night and in calm weather many miles away from the shore, and thus escape, or slip by daylight among the reedy shallows, sheltered by the flags and willows14 from view. The ships of commerce haul up to the shore towards evening, and the crews, disembarking, light their fires and cook their food. There are, however, one or two gaps, as it were, in their usual course which they cannot pass in this leisurely16 manner; where the shore is exposed and rocky, or too shallow, and where they must reluctantly put forth17, and sail from one horn of the land to the other.
The Lake is also divided into two unequal portions by the straits of White Horse, where vessels18 are often weather-bound, and cannot make way against the wind, which sets a current through the narrow channel. There is no tide; the sweet waters do not ebb19 and flow; but while I thus discourse20, I have forgotten to state how they came to fill the middle of the country. Now, the philosopher Silvester, and those who seek after marvels21, say that the passage of the dark body through space caused an immense volume of fresh water to fall in the shape of rain, and also that the growth of the forests distilled22 rain from the clouds. Let us leave these speculations24 to dreamers, and recount what is known to be.
For there is no tradition among the common people, who are extremely tenacious25 of such things, of any great rainfall, nor is there any mention of floods in the ancient manuscripts, nor is there any larger fall of rain now than was formerly26 the case. But the Lake itself tells us how it was formed, or as nearly as we shall ever know, and these facts were established by the expeditions lately sent out.
At the eastern extremity27 the Lake narrows, and finally is lost in the vast marshes29 which cover the site of the ancient London. Through these, no doubt, in the days of the old world there flowed the river Thames. By changes of the sea level and the sand that was brought up there must have grown great banks, which obstructed30 the stream. I have formerly mentioned the vast quantities of timber, the wreckage31 of towns and bridges which was carried down by the various rivers, and by none more so than by the Thames. These added to the accumulation, which increased the faster because the foundations of the ancient bridges held it like piles driven in for the purpose. And before this the river had become partially32 choked from the cloacæ of the ancient city which poured into it through enormous subterranean33 aqueducts and drains.
After a time all these shallows and banks became well matted together by the growth of weeds, of willows, and flags, while the tide, ebbing34 lower at each drawing back, left still more mud and sand. Now it is believed that when this had gone on for a time, the waters of the river, unable to find a channel, began to overflow35 up into the deserted36 streets, and especially to fill the underground passages and drains, of which the number and extent was beyond all the power of words to describe. These, by the force of the water, were burst up, and the houses fell in.
For this marvellous city, of which such legends are related, was after all only of brick, and when the ivy37 grew over and trees and shrubs38 sprang up, and, lastly, the waters underneath39 burst in, this huge metropolis40 was soon overthrown41. At this day all those parts which were built upon low ground are marshes and swamps. Those houses that were upon high ground were, of course, like the other towns, ransacked42 of all they contained by the remnant that was left; the iron, too, was extracted. Trees growing up by them in time cracked the walls, and they fell in. Trees and bushes covered them; ivy and nettles43 concealed44 the crumbling45 masses of brick.
The same was the case with the lesser46 cities and towns whose sites are known in the woods. For though many of our present towns bear the ancient names, they do not stand upon the ancient sites, but are two or three, and sometimes ten miles distant. The founders47 carried with them the name of their original residence.
Thus the low-lying parts of the mighty48 city of London became swamps, and the higher grounds were clad with bushes. The very largest of the buildings fell in, and there was nothing visible but trees and hawthorns49 on the upper lands, and willows, flags, reeds, and rushes on the lower. These crumbling ruins still more choked the stream, and almost, if not quite, turned it back. If any water ooze50 past, it is not perceptible, and there is no channel through to the salt ocean. It is a vast stagnant51 swamp, which no man dare enter, since death would be his inevitable52 fate.
There exhales53 from this oozy54 mass so fatal a vapour that no animal can endure it. The black water bears a greenish-brown floating scum, which for ever bubbles up from the putrid55 mud of the bottom. When the wind collects the miasma56, and, as it were, presses it together, it becomes visible as a low cloud which hangs over the place. The cloud does not advance beyond the limit of the marsh28, seeming to stay there by some constant attraction; and well it is for us that it does not, since at such times when the vapour is thickest, the very wildfowl leave the reeds, and fly from the poison. There are no fishes, neither can eels57 exist in the mud, nor even newts. It is dead.
The flags and reeds are coated with slime and noisome58 to the touch; there is one place where even these do not grow, and where there is nothing but an oily liquid, green and rank. It is plain there are no fishes in the water, for herons do not go thither59, nor the kingfishers, not one of which approaches the spot. They say the sun is sometimes hidden by the vapour when it is thickest, but I do not see how any can tell this, since they could not enter the cloud, as to breathe it when collected by the wind is immediately fatal. For all the rottenness of a thousand years and of many hundred millions of human beings is there festering under the stagnant water, which has sunk down into and penetrated60 the earth, and floated up to the surface the contents of the buried cloacæ.
Many scores of men have, I fear, perished in the attempt to enter this fearful place, carried on by their desire of gain. For it can scarcely be disputed that untold61 treasures lie hidden therein, but guarded by terrors greater than fiery62 serpents. These have usually made their endeavours to enter in severe and continued frost, or in the height of a drought. Frost diminishes the power of the vapour, and the marshes can then, too, be partially traversed, for there is no channel for a boat. But the moment anything be moved, whether it be a bush, or a willow15, even a flag, if the ice be broken, the pestilence63 rises yet stronger. Besides which, there are portions which never freeze, and which may be approached unawares, or a turn of the wind may drift the gas towards the explorer.
In the midst of summer, after long heat, the vapour rises, and is in a degree dissipated into the sky, and then by following devious64 ways an entrance may be effected, but always at the cost of illness. If the explorer be unable to quit the spot before night, whether in summer or winter, his death is certain. In the earlier times some bold and adventurous65 men did indeed succeed in getting a few jewels, but since then the marsh has become more dangerous, and its pestilent character, indeed, increases year by year, as the stagnant water penetrates66 deeper. So that now for very many years no such attempts have been made.
The extent of these foul67 swamps is not known with certainty, but it is generally believed that they are, at the widest, twenty miles across, and that they reach in a winding68 line for nearly forty. But the outside parts are much less fatal; it is only the interior which is avoided.
Towards the Lake the sand thrown up by the waves has long since formed a partial barrier between the sweet water and the stagnant, rising up to within a few feet of the surface. This barrier is overgrown with flags and reeds, where it is shallow. Here it is possible to sail along the sweet water within an arrow-shot of the swamp. Nor, indeed, would the stagnant mingle69 with the sweet, as is evident at other parts of the swamp, where streams flow side by side with the dark or reddish water; and there are pools, upon one side of which the deer drink, while the other is not frequented even by rats.
The common people aver7 that demons70 reside in these swamps; and, indeed, at night fiery shapes are seen, which, to the ignorant, are sufficient confirmation71 of such tales. The vapour, where it is most dense72, takes fire, like the blue flame of spirits, and these flaming clouds float to and fro, and yet do not burn the reeds. The superstitious73 trace in them the forms of demons and winged fiery serpents, and say that white spectres haunt the margin74 of the marsh after dusk. In a lesser degree, the same thing has taken place with other ancient cities. It is true that there are not always swamps, but the sites are uninhabitable because of the emanations from the ruins. Therefore they are avoided. Even the spot where a single house has been known to have existed, is avoided by the hunters in the woods.
They say when they are stricken with ague or fever, that they must have unwittingly slept on the site of an ancient habitation. Nor can the ground be cultivated near the ancient towns, because it causes fever; and thus it is that, as I have already stated, the present places of the same name are often miles distant from the former locality. No sooner does the plough or the spade turn up an ancient site than those who work there are attacked with illness. And thus the cities of the old world, and their houses and habitations, are deserted and lost in the forest. If the hunters, about to pitch their camp for the night, should stumble on so much as a crumbling brick or a fragment of hewn stone, they at once remove at least a bowshot away.
The eastward75 flow of the Thames being at first checked, and finally almost or quite stopped by the formation of these banks, the water turned backwards76 as it were, and began to cover hitherto dry land. And this, with the other lesser rivers and brooks77 that no longer had any ultimate outlet78, accounts for the Lake, so far as this side of the country is concerned.
At the western extremity the waters also contract between the steep cliffs called the Red Rocks, near to which once existed the city of Bristol. Now the Welsh say, and the tradition of those who dwell in that part of the country bears them out, that in the time of the old world the River Severn flowed past the same spot, but not between these cliffs. The great river Severn coming down from the north, with England on one bank and Wales upon the other, entered the sea, widening out as it did so. Just before it reached the sea, another lesser river, called the Avon, the upper part of which is still there, joined it passing through this cleft79 in the rocks.
But when the days of the old world ended in the twilight80 of the ancients, as the salt ocean fell back and its level became lower, vast sandbanks were disclosed, which presently extended across the most part of the Severn river. Others, indeed, think that the salt ocean did not sink, but that the land instead was lifted higher. Then they say that the waves threw up an immense quantity of shingle81 and sand, and that thus these banks were formed. All that we know with certainty, however, is, that across the estuary82 of the Severn there rose a broad barrier of beach, which grew wider with the years, and still increases westwards. It is as if the ocean churned up its floor and cast it forth upon the strand83.
Now when the Severn was thus stayed yet more effectually than the Thames, in the first place it also flowed backwards as it were, till its overflow mingled84 with the reflux of the Thames. Thus the inland sea of fresh water was formed; though Silvester hints (what is most improbable) that the level of the land sank and formed a basin. After a time, when the waters had risen high enough, since all water must have an outlet somewhere, the Lake, passing over the green country behind the Red Rocks, came pouring through the channel of the Avon.
Then, farther down, it rose over the banks which were lowest there, and thus found its way over a dam into the sea. Now when the tide of the ocean is at its ebb, the waters of the Lake rush over these banks with so furious a current that no vessel can either go down or come up. If they attempted to go down, they would be swamped by the meeting of the waves; if they attempted to come up, the strongest gale5 that blows could not force them against the stream. As the tide gradually returns, however, the level of the ocean rises to the level of the Lake, the outward flow of water ceases, and there is even a partial inward flow of the tide which, at its highest, reaches to the Red Rocks. At this state of the tide, which happens twice in a day and night, vessels can enter or go forth.
The Irish ships, of which I have spoken, thus come into the Lake, waiting outside the bar till the tide lifts them over. The Irish ships, being built to traverse the ocean from their country, are large and stout85 and well manned, carrying from thirty to fifty men. The Welsh ships, which come down from that inlet of the Lake which follows the ancient course of the Severn, are much smaller and lighter86, as not being required to withstand the heavy seas. They carry but fifteen or twenty men each, but then they are more numerous. The Irish ships, on account of their size and draught87, in sailing about the sweet waters, cannot always haul on shore at night, nor follow the course of the ships of burden between the fringe of islands and the strand.
They have often to stay in the outer and deeper waters; but the Welsh boats come in easily at all parts of the coast, so that no place is safe against them. The Welsh have ever been most jealous of the Severn, and will on no account permit so much as a canoe to enter it. So that whether it be a narrow creek88, or whether there be wide reaches, or what the shores may be like, we are ignorant. And this is all that is with certainty known concerning the origin of the inland sea of sweet water, excluding all that superstition89 and speculation23 have advanced, and setting down nothing but ascertained90 facts.
A beautiful sea it is, clear as crystal, exquisite91 to drink, abounding92 with fishes of every kind, and adorned93 with green islands. There is nothing more lovely in the world than when, upon a calm evening, the sun goes down across the level and gleaming water, where it is so wide that the eye can but just distinguish a low and dark cloud, as it were, resting upon the horizon, or perhaps, looking lengthways, cannot distinguish any ending to the expanse. Sometimes it is blue, reflecting the noonday sky; sometimes white from the clouds; again green and dark as the wind rises and the waves roll.
Storms, indeed, come up with extraordinary swiftness, for which reason the ships, whenever possible, follow the trade route, as it is called, behind the islands, which shelter them like a protecting reef. They drop equally quickly, and thus it is not uncommon94 for the morning to be calm, the midday raging in waves dashing resistlessly upon the beach, and the evening still again. The Irish, who are accustomed to the salt ocean, say, in the suddenness of its storms and the shifting winds, it is more dangerous than the sea itself. But then there are almost always islands, behind which a vessel can be sheltered.
Beneath the surface of the Lake there must be concealed very many ancient towns and cities, of which the names are lost. Sometimes the anchors bring up even now fragments of rusty95 iron and old metal, or black beams of timber. It is said, and with probability, that when the remnant of the ancients found the water gradually encroaching (for it rose very slowly), as they were driven back year by year, they considered that in time they would be all swept away and drowned. But after extending to its present limits the Lake rose no farther, not even in the wettest seasons, but always remains the same. From the position of certain quays96 we know that it has thus remained for the last hundred years at least.
Never, as I observed before, was there so beautiful an expanse of water. How much must we sorrow that it has so often proved only the easiest mode of bringing the miseries97 of war to the doors of the unoffending! Yet men are never weary of sailing to and fro upon it, and most of the cities of the present time are upon its shore. And in the evening we walk by the beach, and from the rising grounds look over the waters, as if to gaze upon their loveliness were reward to us for the labour of the day.
1 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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2 galley | |
n.(飞机或船上的)厨房单层甲板大帆船;军舰舰长用的大划艇; | |
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3 vessel | |
n.船舶;容器,器皿;管,导管,血管 | |
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4 promontories | |
n.岬,隆起,海角( promontory的名词复数 ) | |
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5 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
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6 gales | |
龙猫 | |
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7 aver | |
v.极力声明;断言;确证 | |
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8 abaft | |
prep.在…之后;adv.在船尾,向船尾 | |
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9 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
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10 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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11 levy | |
n.征收税或其他款项,征收额 | |
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12 treasury | |
n.宝库;国库,金库;文库 | |
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13 rapacious | |
adj.贪婪的,强夺的 | |
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14 willows | |
n.柳树( willow的名词复数 );柳木 | |
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15 willow | |
n.柳树 | |
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16 leisurely | |
adj.悠闲的;从容的,慢慢的 | |
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17 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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18 vessels | |
n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
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19 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
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20 discourse | |
n.论文,演说;谈话;话语;vi.讲述,著述 | |
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21 marvels | |
n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 );令人惊奇的事物(或事例);不平凡的成果;成就v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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22 distilled | |
adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 );从…提取精华 | |
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23 speculation | |
n.思索,沉思;猜测;投机 | |
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24 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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25 tenacious | |
adj.顽强的,固执的,记忆力强的,粘的 | |
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26 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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27 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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28 marsh | |
n.沼泽,湿地 | |
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29 marshes | |
n.沼泽,湿地( marsh的名词复数 ) | |
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30 obstructed | |
阻塞( obstruct的过去式和过去分词 ); 堵塞; 阻碍; 阻止 | |
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31 wreckage | |
n.(失事飞机等的)残骸,破坏,毁坏 | |
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32 partially | |
adv.部分地,从某些方面讲 | |
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33 subterranean | |
adj.地下的,地表下的 | |
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34 ebbing | |
(指潮水)退( ebb的现在分词 ); 落; 减少; 衰落 | |
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35 overflow | |
v.(使)外溢,(使)溢出;溢出,流出,漫出 | |
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36 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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37 ivy | |
n.常青藤,常春藤 | |
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38 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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39 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
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40 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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41 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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42 ransacked | |
v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 );抢劫,掠夺 | |
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43 nettles | |
n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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44 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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45 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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46 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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47 founders | |
n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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48 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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49 hawthorns | |
n.山楂树( hawthorn的名词复数 ) | |
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50 ooze | |
n.软泥,渗出物;vi.渗出,泄漏;vt.慢慢渗出,流露 | |
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51 stagnant | |
adj.不流动的,停滞的,不景气的 | |
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52 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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53 exhales | |
v.呼出,发散出( exhale的第三人称单数 );吐出(肺中的空气、烟等),呼气 | |
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54 oozy | |
adj.软泥的 | |
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55 putrid | |
adj.腐臭的;有毒的;已腐烂的;卑劣的 | |
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56 miasma | |
n.毒气;不良气氛 | |
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57 eels | |
abbr. 电子发射器定位系统(=electronic emitter location system) | |
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58 noisome | |
adj.有害的,可厌的 | |
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59 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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60 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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61 untold | |
adj.数不清的,无数的 | |
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62 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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63 pestilence | |
n.瘟疫 | |
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64 devious | |
adj.不坦率的,狡猾的;迂回的,曲折的 | |
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65 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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66 penetrates | |
v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 );刺入;了解;渗透 | |
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67 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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68 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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69 mingle | |
vt.使混合,使相混;vi.混合起来;相交往 | |
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70 demons | |
n.恶人( demon的名词复数 );恶魔;精力过人的人;邪念 | |
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71 confirmation | |
n.证实,确认,批准 | |
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72 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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73 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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74 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
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75 eastward | |
adv.向东;adj.向东的;n.东方,东部 | |
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76 backwards | |
adv.往回地,向原处,倒,相反,前后倒置地 | |
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77 brooks | |
n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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78 outlet | |
n.出口/路;销路;批发商店;通风口;发泄 | |
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79 cleft | |
n.裂缝;adj.裂开的 | |
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80 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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81 shingle | |
n.木瓦板;小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌);v.用木瓦板盖(屋顶);把(女子头发)剪短 | |
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82 estuary | |
n.河口,江口 | |
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83 strand | |
vt.使(船)搁浅,使(某人)困于(某地) | |
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84 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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86 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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87 draught | |
n.拉,牵引,拖;一网(饮,吸,阵);顿服药量,通风;v.起草,设计 | |
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88 creek | |
n.小溪,小河,小湾 | |
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89 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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90 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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92 abounding | |
adj.丰富的,大量的v.大量存在,充满,富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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93 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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94 uncommon | |
adj.罕见的,非凡的,不平常的 | |
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95 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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96 quays | |
码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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97 miseries | |
n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 );痛苦的事;穷困;常发牢骚的人 | |
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