章节正文
measures tripping to thine ancient harmonies, echoing and replying
to the Muses of Horace and Catullus. Returning to Nature, poets
returned to thee. Thy monument has perished, but not thy music, and
the Prince of Poets has returned to his own again in a glorious
Restoration.
Through the dust and smoke of ages, and through the centuries of
wars we strain our eyes and try to gain a glimpse of thee, Master,
in thy good days, when the Muses walked with thee. We seem to mark
thee wandering silent through some little village, or dreaming in
the woods, or loitering among thy lonely places, or in gardens where
the roses blossom among wilder flowers, or on river banks where the
whispering poplars and sighing reeds make answer to the murmur of
the waters. Such a picture hast thou drawn of thyself in the summer
afternoons.
Je m'en vais pourmener tantost parmy la plaine,
Tantost en un village, et tantost en un bois,
Et tantost par les lieux solitaires et cois.
J'aime fort les jardins qui sentent le sauvage,
J'aime le flot de l'eau qui gazouille au rivage.
Still, methinks, there was a book in the hand of the grave and
learned poet; still thou wouldst carry thy Horace, thy Catullus, thy
Theocritus, through the gem-like weather of the Renouveau, when the
woods were enamelled with flowers, and the young Spring was lodged,
like a wandering prince, in his great palaces hung with green:
Orgueilleux de ses fleurs, enfle de sa jeunesse,
Loge comme un grand Prince en ses vertes maisons!
Thou sawest, in these woods by Loire side, the fair shapes of old
religion, Fauns, Nymphs, and Satyrs, and heard'st in the
nightingale's music the plaint of Philomel. The ancient poets came
back in the train of thyself and of the Spring, and learning was
scarce less dear to thee than love; and thy ladies seemed fairer for
the names they borrowed from the beauties of forgotten days, Helen
and Cassandra. How sweetly didst thou sing to them thine old
morality, and how gravely didst thou teach the lesson of the Roses!
Well didst thou know it, well didst thou love the Rose, since thy
nurse, carrying thee, an infant, to the holy font, let fall on thee
the sacred water brimmed with floating blossoms of the Rose!
Mignonne, allons voir si la Rose,
Qui ce matin avoit desclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil,
A point perdu ceste vespree
Les plis de sa robe pourpree,
Et son teint au votre pareil.
And again,
La belle Rose du Printemps,
Aubert, admoneste les hommes
Passer joyeusement le temps,
Et pendant que jeunes nous sommes,
Esbattre la fleur de nos ans.
In the same mood, looking far down the future, thou sangest of thy
lady's age, the most sad, the most beautiful of thy sad and
beautiful lays; for if thy bees gathered much honey 'twas somewhat
bitter to taste, like that of the Sardinian yews. How clearly we
see the great hall, the grey lady spinning and humming among her
drowsy maids, and how they waken at the word, and she sees her
spring in their eyes, and they forecast their winter in her face,
when she murmurs "'Twas Ronsard sang of me."
Winter, and summer, and spring, how swiftly they pass, and how early
time brought thee his sorrows, and grief cast her dust upon thy
head.
Adieu ma Lyre, adieu fillettes,
Jadis mes douces amourettes,
Adieu, je sens venir ma fin,
Nul passetemps de ma jeunesse
Ne m'accompagne en la vieillesse,
Que le feu, le lict et le vin.
Wine, and a soft bed, and a bright fire: to this trinity of poor
pleasures we come soon, if, indeed, wine be left to us. Poetry
herself deserts us; is it not said that Bacchus never forgives a
renegade? and most of us turn recreants to Bacchus. Even the bright
fire, I fear, was not always there to warm thine old blood, Master,
or, if fire there were, the wood was not bought with thy book-
seller's money. When autumn was drawing in during thine early old
age, in 1584, didst thou not write that thou hadst never received a
sou at the hands of all the publishers who vended thy books? And as
thou wert about putting forth thy folio edition of 1584, thou didst
pray Buon, the bookseller, to give thee sixty crowns to buy wood
withal, and make thee a bright fire in winter weather, and comfort
thine old age with thy friend Gallandius. And if Buon will not pay,
then to try the other booksellers, "that wish to take everything and
give nothing."
Was it knowledge of this passage, Master, or ignorance of everything
else, that made certain of the common steadfast dunces of our days
speak of thee as if thou hadst been a starveling, neglected
poetaster, jealous forsooth of Maitre Francoys Rabelais? See how
ignorantly M. Fleury writes, who teaches French literaturewithal to
them of Muscovy, and hath indited a Life of Rabelais. "Rabelais
etait revetu d'un emploi honorable; Ronsard etait traite en
subalterne," quoth this wondrous professor. What! Pierre de
Ronsard, a gentleman of a noble house, holding the revenue of many
abbeys, the friend of Mary Stuart, of the Duc d'Orleans, of Charles
IX., HE is traite en subalterne, and is jealous of a frocked or
unfrocked manant like Maitre Francoys! And then this amazing Fleury
falls foul of thine epitaph on Maitre Francoys and cries, "Ronsard a
voulu faire des vers mechants; il n'a fait que de mechants vers."
More truly saith M. Sainte-Beuve, "If the good Rabelais had returned
to Meudon on the day when this epitaph was made over the wine, he
would, methinks, have laughed heartily." But what shall be said of
a Professor like the egregious M. Fleury, who holds that Ronsard was
despised at Court? Was there a party at tennis when the king would
not fain have had thee on his side, declaring that he ever won when
Ronsard was his partner? Did he not give thee benefices, and many
priories, and call thee his father in Apollo, and even, so they say,
bid thee sit down beside him on his throne? Away, ye scandalous
folk, who tell us that there was strife between the Prince of Poets
and the King of Mirth. Naught have ye by way of proof of your
slander but the talk of Jean Bernier, a scurrilous, starveling
apothecary, who put forth his fables in 1697, a century and a half
after Maitre Francoys died. Bayle quoted this fellow in a note, and
ye all steal the tattle one from another in your dull manner, and
know not whence it comes, nor even that Bayle would none of it and
mocked its author. With so little knowledge is history written, and
thus doth each chattering brook of a "Life" swell with its tribute
"that great Mississippi of falsehood," Biography.
LETTER--To Herodotus
To Herodotus of Halicarnassus, greeting.--Concerning the matters set
forth in your histories, and the tales you tell about both Greeks
and Barbarians, whether they be true, or whether they be false, men
dispute not little but a great deal. Wherefore I, being concerned
to know the verity, did set forth to make search in every manner,
and came in my quest even unto the ends of the earth. For there is
an island of the Cimmerians beyond the Straits of Heracles, some
three days' voyage to a ship that hath a fair following wind in her
sails; and there it is said that men know many things from of old:
thither, then, I came in my inquiry. Now, the island is not small,
but large, greater than the whole of Hellas; and they call it
Britain. In that island the east wind blows for ten parts of the
year, and the people know not how to cover themselves from the cold.
But for the other two months of the year the sun shines fiercely, so
that some of them die thereof, and others die of the frozen mixed
drinks; for they have ice even in the summer, and this ice they put
to their liquor. Through the whole of this island, from the west
even to the east, there flows a river called Thames: a great river
and a laborious, but not to be likened to the River of Egypt.
The mouth of this river, where I stepped out from my ship, is
exceedingly foul and of an evil savour by reason of the city on the
banks. Now this city is several hundred parasangs in circumference.
Yet a man that needed not to breathe the air might go round it in
one hour, in chariots that run under the earth; and these chariots
are drawn by creatures that breathe smoke and sulphur, such as
Orpheus mentions in his "Argonautica," if it be by Orpheus. The
people of the town, when I inquired of them concerning Herodotus of
Halicarnassus, looked on me with amazement, and went straightway
about their business--namely, to seek out whatsoever new thing is
coming to pass all over the whole inhabited world, and as for things
old, they take no keep of them.
Nevertheless, by diligence I learned that he who in this land knew
most concerning Herodotus was a priest, and dwelt in the priests'
city on the river which is called the City of the Ford of the Ox.
But whether Io, when she wore a cow's shape, had passed by that way
in her wanderings, and thence comes the name of that city, I could
not (though I asked all men I met) learn aught with certainty. But
to me, considering this, it seemed that Io must have come thither.
And now farewell to Io.
To the City of the Priests there are two roads: one by land; and
one by water, following the river. To a well-girdled man, the land
journey is but one day's travel; by the river it is longer but more
pleasant. Now that river flows, as I said, from the west to the
east. And there is in it a fish called chub, which they catch; but
they do not eat it, for a certain sacred reason. Also there is a
fish called trout, and this is the manner of his catching. They
build for this purpose great dams of wood, which they call weirs.
Having built the weir they sit upon it with rods in their hands, and
a line on the rod, and at the end of the line a little fish. There
then they "sit and spin in the sun," as one of their poets says, not
for a short time but for many days, having rods in their hands and
eating and drinking. In this wise they angle for the fish called
trout; but whether they ever catch him or not, not having seen it, I
cannot say; for it is not pleasant to me to speak things concerning
which I know not the truth.
Now, after sailing and rowing against the stream for certain days, I
came to the City of the Ford of the Ox. Here the river changes his
name, and is called Isis, after the name of the goddess of the
Egyptians. But whether the Britons brought the name from Egypt or
whether the Egyptians took it from the Britons, not knowing I prefer
not to say. But to me it seems that the Britons are a colony of the
Egyptians, or the Egyptians a colony of the Britons. Moreover, when
I was in Egypt I saw certain soldiers in white helmets, who were
certainly British. But what they did there (as Egypt neither
belongs to Britain nor Britain to Egypt) I know not, neither could
they tell me. But one of them replied to me in that line of Homer
(if the Odyssey be Homer's), "We have come to a sorry Cyprus, and a
sad Egypt." Others told me that they once marched against the
Ethiopians, and having defeated them several times, then came back
again, leaving their property to the Ethiopians. But as to the
truth of this I leave it to every man to form his own opinion.
Having come into the City of the Priests, I went forth into the
street, and found a priest of the baser sort, who for a piece of
silver led me hither and thither among the temples, discoursing of
many things.
Now it seemed to me a strange thing that the city was empty, and no
man dwellingtherein, save a few priests only, and their wives, and
their children, who are drawn to and fro in little carriages dragged
by women. But the priest told me that during half the year the city
was desolate, for that there came somewhat called "The Long," or
"The Vac," and drave out the young priests. And he said that these
did no other thing but row boats, and throw balls from one to the
other, and this they were made to do, he said, that the young
priests might learn to be humble, for they are the proudest of men.
But whether he spoke truth or not I know not, only I set down what
he told me. But to anyone considering it, this appears rather to
to the Muses of Horace and Catullus. Returning to Nature, poets
returned to thee. Thy monument has perished, but not thy music, and
the Prince of Poets has returned to his own again in a glorious
Restoration.
Through the dust and smoke of ages, and through the centuries of
wars we strain our eyes and try to gain a glimpse of thee, Master,
in thy good days, when the Muses walked with thee. We seem to mark
thee wandering silent through some little village, or dreaming in
the woods, or loitering among thy lonely places, or in gardens where
the roses blossom among wilder flowers, or on river banks where the
whispering poplars and sighing reeds make answer to the murmur of
the waters. Such a picture hast thou drawn of thyself in the summer
afternoons.
Je m'en vais pourmener tantost parmy la plaine,
Tantost en un village, et tantost en un bois,
Et tantost par les lieux solitaires et cois.
J'aime fort les jardins qui sentent le sauvage,
J'aime le flot de l'eau qui gazouille au rivage.
Still, methinks, there was a book in the hand of the grave and
learned poet; still thou wouldst carry thy Horace, thy Catullus, thy
Theocritus, through the gem-like weather of the Renouveau, when the
woods were enamelled with flowers, and the young Spring was lodged,
like a wandering prince, in his great palaces hung with green:
Orgueilleux de ses fleurs, enfle de sa jeunesse,
Loge comme un grand Prince en ses vertes maisons!
Thou sawest, in these woods by Loire side, the fair shapes of old
religion, Fauns, Nymphs, and Satyrs, and heard'st in the
nightingale's music the plaint of Philomel. The ancient poets came
back in the train of thyself and of the Spring, and learning was
scarce less dear to thee than love; and thy ladies seemed fairer for
the names they borrowed from the beauties of forgotten days, Helen
and Cassandra. How sweetly didst thou sing to them thine old
morality, and how gravely didst thou teach the lesson of the Roses!
Well didst thou know it, well didst thou love the Rose, since thy
nurse, carrying thee, an infant, to the holy font, let fall on thee
the sacred water brimmed with floating blossoms of the Rose!
Mignonne, allons voir si la Rose,
Qui ce matin avoit desclose
Sa robe de pourpre au soleil,
A point perdu ceste vespree
Les plis de sa robe pourpree,
Et son teint au votre pareil.
And again,
La belle Rose du Printemps,
Aubert, admoneste les hommes
Passer joyeusement le temps,
Et pendant que jeunes nous sommes,
Esbattre la fleur de nos ans.
In the same mood, looking far down the future, thou sangest of thy
lady's age, the most sad, the most beautiful of thy sad and
beautiful lays; for if thy bees gathered much honey 'twas somewhat
bitter to taste, like that of the Sardinian yews. How clearly we
see the great hall, the grey lady spinning and humming among her
drowsy maids, and how they waken at the word, and she sees her
spring in their eyes, and they forecast their winter in her face,
when she murmurs "'Twas Ronsard sang of me."
Winter, and summer, and spring, how swiftly they pass, and how early
time brought thee his sorrows, and grief cast her dust upon thy
head.
Adieu ma Lyre, adieu fillettes,
Jadis mes douces amourettes,
Adieu, je sens venir ma fin,
Nul passetemps de ma jeunesse
Ne m'accompagne en la vieillesse,
Que le feu, le lict et le vin.
Wine, and a soft bed, and a bright fire: to this trinity of poor
pleasures we come soon, if, indeed, wine be left to us. Poetry
herself deserts us; is it not said that Bacchus never forgives a
renegade? and most of us turn recreants to Bacchus. Even the bright
fire, I fear, was not always there to warm thine old blood, Master,
or, if fire there were, the wood was not bought with thy book-
seller's money. When autumn was drawing in during thine early old
age, in 1584, didst thou not write that thou hadst never received a
sou at the hands of all the publishers who vended thy books? And as
thou wert about putting forth thy folio edition of 1584, thou didst
pray Buon, the bookseller, to give thee sixty crowns to buy wood
withal, and make thee a bright fire in winter weather, and comfort
thine old age with thy friend Gallandius. And if Buon will not pay,
then to try the other booksellers, "that wish to take everything and
give nothing."
Was it knowledge of this passage, Master, or ignorance of everything
else, that made certain of the common steadfast dunces of our days
speak of thee as if thou hadst been a starveling, neglected
poetaster, jealous forsooth of Maitre Francoys Rabelais? See how
ignorantly M. Fleury writes, who teaches French literaturewithal to
them of Muscovy, and hath indited a Life of Rabelais. "Rabelais
etait revetu d'un emploi honorable; Ronsard etait traite en
subalterne," quoth this wondrous professor. What! Pierre de
Ronsard, a gentleman of a noble house, holding the revenue of many
abbeys, the friend of Mary Stuart, of the Duc d'Orleans, of Charles
IX., HE is traite en subalterne, and is jealous of a frocked or
unfrocked manant like Maitre Francoys! And then this amazing Fleury
falls foul of thine epitaph on Maitre Francoys and cries, "Ronsard a
voulu faire des vers mechants; il n'a fait que de mechants vers."
More truly saith M. Sainte-Beuve, "If the good Rabelais had returned
to Meudon on the day when this epitaph was made over the wine, he
would, methinks, have laughed heartily." But what shall be said of
a Professor like the egregious M. Fleury, who holds that Ronsard was
despised at Court? Was there a party at tennis when the king would
not fain have had thee on his side, declaring that he ever won when
Ronsard was his partner? Did he not give thee benefices, and many
priories, and call thee his father in Apollo, and even, so they say,
bid thee sit down beside him on his throne? Away, ye scandalous
folk, who tell us that there was strife between the Prince of Poets
and the King of Mirth. Naught have ye by way of proof of your
slander but the talk of Jean Bernier, a scurrilous, starveling
apothecary, who put forth his fables in 1697, a century and a half
after Maitre Francoys died. Bayle quoted this fellow in a note, and
ye all steal the tattle one from another in your dull manner, and
know not whence it comes, nor even that Bayle would none of it and
mocked its author. With so little knowledge is history written, and
thus doth each chattering brook of a "Life" swell with its tribute
"that great Mississippi of falsehood," Biography.
LETTER--To Herodotus
To Herodotus of Halicarnassus, greeting.--Concerning the matters set
forth in your histories, and the tales you tell about both Greeks
and Barbarians, whether they be true, or whether they be false, men
dispute not little but a great deal. Wherefore I, being concerned
to know the verity, did set forth to make search in every manner,
and came in my quest even unto the ends of the earth. For there is
an island of the Cimmerians beyond the Straits of Heracles, some
three days' voyage to a ship that hath a fair following wind in her
sails; and there it is said that men know many things from of old:
thither, then, I came in my inquiry. Now, the island is not small,
but large, greater than the whole of Hellas; and they call it
Britain. In that island the east wind blows for ten parts of the
year, and the people know not how to cover themselves from the cold.
But for the other two months of the year the sun shines fiercely, so
that some of them die thereof, and others die of the frozen mixed
drinks; for they have ice even in the summer, and this ice they put
to their liquor. Through the whole of this island, from the west
even to the east, there flows a river called Thames: a great river
and a laborious, but not to be likened to the River of Egypt.
The mouth of this river, where I stepped out from my ship, is
exceedingly foul and of an evil savour by reason of the city on the
banks. Now this city is several hundred parasangs in circumference.
Yet a man that needed not to breathe the air might go round it in
one hour, in chariots that run under the earth; and these chariots
are drawn by creatures that breathe smoke and sulphur, such as
Orpheus mentions in his "Argonautica," if it be by Orpheus. The
people of the town, when I inquired of them concerning Herodotus of
Halicarnassus, looked on me with amazement, and went straightway
about their business--namely, to seek out whatsoever new thing is
coming to pass all over the whole inhabited world, and as for things
old, they take no keep of them.
Nevertheless, by diligence I learned that he who in this land knew
most concerning Herodotus was a priest, and dwelt in the priests'
city on the river which is called the City of the Ford of the Ox.
But whether Io, when she wore a cow's shape, had passed by that way
in her wanderings, and thence comes the name of that city, I could
not (though I asked all men I met) learn aught with certainty. But
to me, considering this, it seemed that Io must have come thither.
And now farewell to Io.
To the City of the Priests there are two roads: one by land; and
one by water, following the river. To a well-girdled man, the land
journey is but one day's travel; by the river it is longer but more
pleasant. Now that river flows, as I said, from the west to the
east. And there is in it a fish called chub, which they catch; but
they do not eat it, for a certain sacred reason. Also there is a
fish called trout, and this is the manner of his catching. They
build for this purpose great dams of wood, which they call weirs.
Having built the weir they sit upon it with rods in their hands, and
a line on the rod, and at the end of the line a little fish. There
then they "sit and spin in the sun," as one of their poets says, not
for a short time but for many days, having rods in their hands and
eating and drinking. In this wise they angle for the fish called
trout; but whether they ever catch him or not, not having seen it, I
cannot say; for it is not pleasant to me to speak things concerning
which I know not the truth.
Now, after sailing and rowing against the stream for certain days, I
came to the City of the Ford of the Ox. Here the river changes his
name, and is called Isis, after the name of the goddess of the
Egyptians. But whether the Britons brought the name from Egypt or
whether the Egyptians took it from the Britons, not knowing I prefer
not to say. But to me it seems that the Britons are a colony of the
Egyptians, or the Egyptians a colony of the Britons. Moreover, when
I was in Egypt I saw certain soldiers in white helmets, who were
certainly British. But what they did there (as Egypt neither
belongs to Britain nor Britain to Egypt) I know not, neither could
they tell me. But one of them replied to me in that line of Homer
(if the Odyssey be Homer's), "We have come to a sorry Cyprus, and a
sad Egypt." Others told me that they once marched against the
Ethiopians, and having defeated them several times, then came back
again, leaving their property to the Ethiopians. But as to the
truth of this I leave it to every man to form his own opinion.
Having come into the City of the Priests, I went forth into the
street, and found a priest of the baser sort, who for a piece of
silver led me hither and thither among the temples, discoursing of
many things.
Now it seemed to me a strange thing that the city was empty, and no
man dwellingtherein, save a few priests only, and their wives, and
their children, who are drawn to and fro in little carriages dragged
by women. But the priest told me that during half the year the city
was desolate, for that there came somewhat called "The Long," or
"The Vac," and drave out the young priests. And he said that these
did no other thing but row boats, and throw balls from one to the
other, and this they were made to do, he said, that the young
priests might learn to be humble, for they are the proudest of men.
But whether he spoke truth or not I know not, only I set down what
he told me. But to anyone considering it, this appears rather to
- monument [´mɔnjumənt]
n.纪念碑；古迹 (初中英语单词) - prince [´prins] n.王子；亲王；君主 (初中英语单词)
- glimpse [glimps] n.&v.瞥见 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- blossom [´blɔsəm] n.花；开花期 vi.开花 (初中英语单词)
- learning [´lə:niŋ] n.学习；学问；知识 (初中英语单词)
- gravely [´greivli] ad.庄重地，严肃地 (初中英语单词)
- infant [´infənt] n.&a.婴(幼)儿 (初中英语单词)
- sacred [´seikrid] a.神圣的；庄严的 (初中英语单词)
- swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- ignorance [´ignərəns] n.无知，愚昧 (初中英语单词)
- jealous [´dʒeləs] a.妒忌的 (初中英语单词)
- literature [´litərətʃə] n.文学；文献；著作 (初中英语单词)
- amazing [ə´meiziŋ] a.惊人的；惊奇的 (初中英语单词)
- partner [´pɑ:tnə] n.伙伴 v.同....合作 (初中英语单词)
- apollo [ə´pɔləu] n.阿波罗 (初中英语单词)
- mississippi [,misi´sipi] n.密西西比(河) (初中英语单词)
- voyage [´vɔi-idʒ] n.&vi.航海；航程；旅行 (初中英语单词)
- inquiry [in´kwaiəri] n.询问；质询；调查 (初中英语单词)
- fiercely [´fiəsli] ad.凶猛地，残忍地 (初中英语单词)
- frozen [´frəuzn] freeze 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- liquor [´likə] n.酒类；(溶)液 (初中英语单词)
- sulphur [´sʌlfə] n.硫，硫磺 (初中英语单词)
- amazement [ə´meizmənt] n.惊愕；惊奇 (初中英语单词)
- diligence [´dilidʒəns] n.勤奋，努力 (初中英语单词)
- priest [pri:st] n.教士；牧师；神父 (初中英语单词)
- thence [ðens] ad.从那里；因此 (初中英语单词)
- farewell [feə´wel] int.再见 n.&a.告别 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- goddess [´gɔdis] n.女神 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- moreover [mɔ:´rəuvə] ad.再者，此外，而且 (初中英语单词)
- hither [´hiðə] ad.到此处 (初中英语单词)
- thither [´ðiðə] ad.到那里 a.那边的 (初中英语单词)
- dwelling [´dweliŋ] n.住所；寓所 (初中英语单词)
- humble [´hʌmbəl] a.谦卑的 vt.贬抑 (初中英语单词)
- strain [strein] vt.拉紧 vi.拖 n.张力 (高中英语单词)
- methinks [mi´θiŋks] vi.据我看来 (高中英语单词)
- sweetly [´swi:tli] ad.甜蜜地；美妙地 (高中英语单词)
- spinning [´spiniŋ] n.纺织 a.纺织品的 (高中英语单词)
- edition [i´diʃən] n.版本；很相似的 (高中英语单词)
- revenue [´revinju:] n.税收；收入 (高中英语单词)
- tennis [´tenis] n.网球(运动) (高中英语单词)
- throne [θrəun] n.宝座；王位 (高中英语单词)
- strife [straif] n.竞争；吵架；冲突 (高中英语单词)
- naught [nɔ:t] n.无；零 (高中英语单词)
- concerning [kən´sə:niŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
- certainty [´sə:tənti] n.确实(性)；确信 (高中英语单词)
- therein [ðeə´rin] ad.在那里，在其中 (高中英语单词)
- desolate [´desəleit] a.荒凉的；孤独的 (高中英语单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- withal [wi´ðɔ:l] ad.加之；同样；然而 (英语四级单词)
- wondrous [´wʌndrəs] a.极好的 ad.惊人地 (英语四级单词)
- whence [wens] ad.从何处；从那里 (英语四级单词)
- wherefore [´weəfɔ:] ad.为什么；因此 (英语四级单词)
- savour [´seivə] n.味道；风味 v.尝到 (英语四级单词)
- whatsoever [,wɔtsəu´evə] (强势语)=whatever (英语四级单词)
- considering [kən´sidəriŋ] prep.就...而论 (英语四级单词)
- forecast [´fɔ:kɑ:st] vt.&n.预测；预报 (英语六级单词)
- trinity [´triniti] n.三个一组 (英语六级单词)
- steadfast [´stedfɑ:st, -fæst] a.坚定的，不动摇的 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
- epitaph [´epitɑ:f] n.墓志铭 (英语六级单词)
- thames [temz] n.泰晤士河 (英语六级单词)
- laborious [lə´bɔ:riəs] a.吃力的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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