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Gods， what a black， fierce day！ The clouds were iron，
Wrenched1 to strange， rugged2 shapes； the red sun winked3 Over the rough crest4 of the hairy wood In angry scorn； the grey road twisted， kinked， Like a sick serpent， seeming to environ The trees with magic. All the wood was still —— Cracked， crannied pines bent5 like malicious6 cripples Before the gusty7 wind； they seemed to nose， Nudge， poke8 each other， cackling with ill mirth —— Enchantment's days were over —— sh！ —— Suppose That crouching9 log there， where the white light stipples10 Should —— break its quiet！ WAS THAT CRIMSON11 —— EARTH？ It smirched the ground like a lewd13 whisper， "Danger！" —— I hunched14 my cloak about me —— then， appalled15， Turned ice and fire by turns —— for —— someone stirred The brown， dry needles sharply！ Terror crawled Along my spine16， as forth17 there stepped —— a Stranger！ And all the pines crooned like a drowsy18 bird！ His stock was black. His great shoe-buckles glistened19. His fur cuffs20 ended in a sheen of rings. And underneath21 his coat a case bulged22 blackly —— He swept his beaver23 in a rush of wings！ Then took the fiddle24 out， and， as I listened， Tightened25 and tuned27 the yellowed strings28， hung slackly. Ping！ Pang29！ The clear notes swooped30 and curved and darted31， Rising like gulls32. Then， with a finger skinny， He rubbed the bow with rosin， said， "Your pardon Signor！ —— Maestro Nicolo Paganini They used to call me！ Tchk！ —— The cold grips hard on A poor musician's fingers！" —— His lips parted. A tortured soul screamed suddenly and loud， From the brown， quivering case！ Then， faster， faster， Dancing in flame-like whorls， wild， beating， screaming， The music wailed33 unutterable disaster； Heartbroken murmurs34 from pale lips once proud， Dead， choking moans from hearts once nobly dreaming. Till all resolved in anguish35 —— died away Upon one minor36 chord， and was resumed In anguish； fell again to a low cry， Then rose triumphant37 where the white fires fumed38， Terrible， marching， trampling39， reeling， gay， Hurling40 mad， broken legions down to die Through everlasting41 hells —— The tears were salt Upon my fingers —— Then， I saw， behind The fury of the player， all the trees Crouched42 like violinists， boughs43 crooked44， jerking， blind， Sweeping45 mad bows to music without fault， Grey cheeks to greyer fiddles46， withered47 knees. Gasping48， I fled！ —— but still that devilish tune26 Stunned49 ears and brain alike —— till clouds of dust Blotted50 the picture， and the noise grew dim —— Shaking， I reached the town —— and turned —— in trust —— Wind-smitten， dread51， against the sky-line's rim12， Black， dragon branches whipped below a moon！ 点击  收听单词发音
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