赫米斯顿的韦尔__Robert Louis Stevenson.pdf

www.ChineseA 英文名著3000 本 中文在线出品 Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson 1 www.ChineseA 英文名著3000 本 中文在线出品 TO MY WIFE I saw rain f-alling and the rainbow drawn On Lammermuir. Hearkening I heard again In my precipitous city beaten bells Winnow the keen sea wind. And here afar,Intent on my own race and place, I wrote. Take thou the writing: thine it is. For who Burnished the sword, blew on the drowsy coal,Held still the target higher, chary of praise And prodigal of counsel - who but thou?So now, in the end, if this the least be good,If any deed be done, if any fire Burn in the imperfect page, the praise be thine. 2 www.ChineseA 英文名著3000 本 中文在线出品 INTRODUCTORY IN the wild end of a moorland parish, far out of the sight of any house, there stands a cairn among the heather, and a little by east of it, in the going down of the brae-side, a monument with some verses half defaced. It was here that Claverhouse shot with his own hand the Praying Weaver of Balweary, and the chisel of Old Mortality has clinked on that lonely gravestone. Public and domestic history have thus marked with a bloody finger this hollow among the hills; and since the Cameronian gave his life there, two hundred years ago, in a glorious folly, and without comprehension or regret, the silence of the moss has been broken once again by the report of firearms and the cry of the dying. The Deils Hags was the old name. But the pla