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【美国故事】厄舍古屋的倒塌 The collapse of the old house of Usher

来源:慢速英语   时间:2020-01-11 10:44:34

The Fall of the House of Usher.It was a dark and soundless day near the end of the year,and clouds were hanging low in the heavens.All day I had been riding on horseback through country with little life or beauty;and in the early evening,I came within view of the House of Usher.I do not know how it was—but,with my first sight of the building,a sense of heavy sadness filled my spirit.I looked at the scene before me—at the house itself—at the ground around it—at the cold stone walls of the building—at its empty eye-like windows—and at a few dead trees—I looked at this scene,I say,with a complete sadness of soul,which was no healthy,earthly feeling.There was a coldness,a sickening of the heart,in which I could discover nothing to lighten the weight I felt.What was it,I asked myself,what was it that was so fearful,so frightening in my view of the House of Usher?This was a question to which I could find no answer.


I stopped my horse beside the building,on the edge of a dark and quiet lake.There,I could see reflected in the water a clear picture of the dead trees,and of the house and its empty,eye-like windows.I was now going to spend several weeks in this house of sadness—this house of gloom.Its owner was named Roderick Usher.We had been friends when we were boys;but many years had passed since our last meeting.A letter from him had reached me;a wild letter,which demanded that I reply by coming to see him.He wrote of an illness of the body—of a sickness of the mind—and of a desire to see me—his best and,indeed,his only friend.It was the manner in which all this was said—it was the heart in it—which did not allow me to say no.Although as boys we had been together,I really knew little about my friend.I knew,however,that his family,a very old one,had long been famous for its understanding of all the arts,and for many quiet acts of kindness to the poor.I had learned,too,that the family had never been a large one,with many branches.The name had passed always from father to son,and when people spoke of the"House of Usher,"they included both the family and the family home.

我把马停在建筑物旁边,一个又黑又安静的湖边。在那里,我可以看到倒映在水里的一幅清晰的图画,上面是枯树,房子和空荡荡的,像眼睛一样的窗户。我现在要在这悲伤的房子里呆上几个星期,这阴郁的房子。它的主人叫Roderick Usher。我们小时候是朋友,但自从上次见面以来已经多年了。我收到了他的一封信;一封狂野的信,要求我回信来看他。他写下了一种身体上的疾病,一种精神上的疾病,一种想见我的欲望,他最好的,甚至是他唯一的朋友。这一切都是用这种方式说的——这是内心的——这不允许我说不。虽然我们小时候在一起,但我对我的朋友真的知之甚少。然而,我知道,他的家族是一个非常古老的家族,长期以来以其对所有艺术的理解和对穷人的许多无声的善举而闻名。我也了解到,这个家庭从来就不是一个大家庭,有很多分支。这个名字总是从父亲传给儿子,当人们谈到“厄舍之家”时,他们包括了这个家庭和这个家庭。

I again looked up from the picture of the house reflected in the lake to the house itself.A strange idea grew in my mind—an idea so strange that I tell it only to show the force of the feelings which laid their weight on me.I really believed that around the whole house,and the ground around it,the air itself was different.It was not the air of heaven.It rose from the dead,decaying trees,from the gray walls,and the quiet lake.It was a sickly,unhealthy air that I could see,slow-moving,heavy,and gray.Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream,I looked more carefully at the building itself.The most noticeable thing about it seemed to be its great age.None of the walls had fallen,yet the stones appeared to be in a condition of advanced decay.Perhaps the careful eye would have discovered the beginning of a break in the front of the building,a crack making its way from the top down the wall until it became lost in the dark waters of the lake.



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