酷兔英语
    当前位置:
  1. 首页
  2. 文章
  3. 娱乐英语
  4. 原版小说
  5. 正文

Tanglewood Tales-Part9_NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE(1804-1864)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

0 收藏 0 分享 0 赞

章节正文
文章总共2页
slew the great Antaeus shall lay me prostrate, like him, on the

soil which I give my life to defend."



So saying, this valiant Pygmy drew out his weapon (which was

terrible to behold, being as long as the blade of a penknife),



and sent the scabbard whirling over the heads of the multitude.

His speech was followed by an uproar of applause, as its



patriotism and self-devotion unquestionably deserved; and the

shouts and clapping of hands would have been greatly prolonged,



had they not been rendered quite inaudible by a deep

respiration, vulgarly called a snore, from the sleeping



Hercules.

It was finally decided that the whole nation of Pygmies should



set to work to destroy Hercules; not, be it understood, from

any doubt that a single champion would be capable of putting



him to the sword, but because he was a public enemy, and all

were desirous of sharing in the glory of his defeat. There was



a debate whether the national honor did not demand that a

herald should be sent with a trumpet, to stand over the ear of



Hercules, and after blowing a blast right into it, to defy him

to the combat by formalproclamation. But two or three



venerable and sagacious Pygmies, well versed in state affairs,

gave it as their opinion that war already existed, and that it



was their rightfulprivilege to take the enemy by surprise.

Moreover, if awakened, and allowed to get upon his feet,



Hercules might happen to do them a mischief before he could be

beaten down again. For, as these sage counselors remarked, the



stranger's club was really very big, and had rattled like a

thunderbolt against the skull of Antaeus. So the Pygmies



resolved to set aside all foolish punctilios, and assail their

antagonist at once.



Accordingly, all the fighting men of the nation took their

weapons, and went boldly up to Hercules, who still lay fast



asleep, little dreaming of the harm which the Pygmies meant to

do him. A body of twenty thousand archers marched in front,



with their little bows all ready, and the arrows on the string.

The same number were ordered to clamber upon Hercules, some



with spades to dig his eyes out, and others with bundles of

hay, and all manner of rubbish with which they intended to plug



up his mouth and nostrils, so that he might perish for lack of

breath. These last, however, could by no means perform their



appointed duty; inasmuch as the enemy's breath rushed out of

his nose in an obstreperous hurricane and whirlwind, which blew



the Pygmies away as fast as they came nigh. It was found

necessary, therefore, to hit upon some other method of carrying



on the war.

After holding a council, the captains ordered their troops to



collect sticks, straws, dry weeds, and whatever combustible

stuff they could find, and make a pile of it, heaping it high



around the head of Hercules. As a great many thousand Pygmies

were employed in this task, they soon brought together several



bushels of inflammatory matter, and raised so tall a heap,

that, mounting on its summit, they were quite upon a level with



the sleeper's face. The archers, meanwhile, were stationed

within bow shot, with orders to let fly at Hercules the instant



that he stirred. Everything being in readiness, a torch was

applied to the pile, which immediately burst into flames, and



soon waxed hot enough to roast the enemy, had he but chosen to

lie still. A Pygmy, you know, though so very small, might set



the world on fire, just as easily as a Giant could; so that

this was certainly the very best way of dealing with their foe,



provided they could have kept him quiet while the conflagration

was going forward.



But no sooner did Hercules begin to be scorched, than up he

started, with his hair in a red blaze.



"What's all this?" he cried, bewildered with sleep, and staring

about him as if he expected to see another Giant.



At that moment the twenty thousand archers twanged their

bowstrings, and the arrows came whizzing, like so many winged



mosquitoes, right into the face of Hercules. But I doubt

whether more than half a dozen of them punctured the skin,



which was remarkably tough, as you know the skin of a hero has

good need to be.






文章总共2页
文章标签:名著  

章节正文
Copyright © 2023 Qeto All rights reserved.
商务合作 | 联系我们 | 关于我们 | 版权声明 | 隐私条款 | 如果智培

京ICP备05059198号-1 京公网安备 11011202003401号