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At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon.
在翻书的间隙，我抬头细看冬日下午的景色。
Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud.
只见远方白茫茫一片云雾。
Near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast.
近处湿漉漉一块草地和受风雨袭击的灌木。一阵持久而凄厉的狂风，驱赶着如注的暴雨，横空归过。
I returned to my book- Bewick's History of British Birds.
我重又低头看书，那是本比尤伊克的《英国鸟类史》。
The letterpress thereof I cared little for, generally speaking.
文字部份我一般不感兴趣。
And yet there were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank.
但有几页导言，虽说我是孩子，却不愿当作空页随手翻过。
They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl.
内中写到了海鸟生息之地。
Of 'the solitary rocks and promontories' by them only inhabited.
写到了只有海鸟栖居的“孤零零的岩石和海岬”。
Of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from its southern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape.
写到了自南端林纳斯尼斯，或纳斯，至北角都遍布小岛的挪威海岸。
Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls, Boils round the naked, melancholy isles of farthest Thule.
那里，北冰洋掀起的巨大漩涡，咆哮在极地光秃凄凉约小岛四周。
And the Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.
而大西洋的汹涌波涛，泻入了狂暴的赫布里底群岛。
Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland,
还有些地方我也不能看都不看，一翻而过，那就是书中提到的拉普兰、西伯利亚、斯匹次卑尔根群岛、新地岛、冰岛和格陵兰荒凉的海岸。
with 'the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of dreary space, that reservoir of frost and snow.
广袤无垠的北极地带和那些阴凄凄的不毛之地，宛若冰雪的储存库。
Where firm fields of ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glazed in Alpine heights above heights,
千万个寒冬所积聚成的坚冰，像阿尔卑斯山的层层高峰，光滑晶莹，
surround the pole and concentre the multiplied rigours of extreme cold.
包围着地极，把与日俱增的严寒汇集于一处。
Of these death-white realms I formed an idea of my own: shadowy,
我对这些死白色的地域，已有一定之见，但一时难以捉摸，
like all the half-comprehended notions that float aim through children's brains, but strangely impressive.
仿佛孩子们某些似懂非懂的念头，朦朦胧胧浮现在脑际，却出奇地生动。
The words in these introductory pages connected themselves with the succeeding vignettes,
导言中的这几页文字，与后面的插图相配，
and gave significance to the rock standing up alone in a sea of billow and spray.
使兀立于大海波涛中的孤岩。
To the broken boat stranded on a desolate coast.
搁浅在荒凉海岸上的破船。
To the cold and ghastly moon glancing through bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking.
以及透过云带俯视着沉船的幽幽月光，更加含义隽永了。
I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the quite solitary churchyard, with its inscribed headstone.
我说不清一种什么样的情调弥漫在孤寂的墓地。
Its gate, its two trees, its low horizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its newly-risen crescent, attesting the hour of eventide.
刻有铭文的墓碑、一扇大门、两棵树、低低的地平线、破败的围墙。
The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I believed to be marine phantoms.
两艘轮船停泊在水波不兴的海面上，我以为它们是海上的鬼怪。
The fiend pinning down the thief's pack behind him, I passed over quickly: it was an object of terror.
魔鬼从身后按住窃贼的背包，那模样实在可怕，我赶紧翻了过去。
So was the black horned thing seated aloof on a rock, surveying a distant crowd surrounding a gallows.
一样可怕的是，那个头上长角的黑色怪物，独踞于岩石之上，远眺着一大群人围着绞架。
Each picture told a story.
每幅画都是一个故事。
Mysterious often to my undeveloped understanding and imperfect feelings, yet ever profoundly interesting.
由于我理解力不足，欣赏水平有限，它们往往显得神秘莫测。
As interesting as the tales Bessie sometimes narrated on winter evenings, when she chanced to be in good humour.
但无不趣味盎然，就像某些冬夜，贝茜碰巧心情不错时讲述的故事一样。
And when, having brought her ironing-table to the nursery hearth,
遇到这种时候，贝茵会把烫衣桌搬到保育室的壁炉旁边，让我们围着它坐好。
she allowed us to sit about it, and while she got up Mrs. Reed's lace frills, and crimped her nightcap borders,
她一面熨里德太太的网眼饰边，把睡帽的边沿烫出褶裥来，
fed our eager attention with passages of love and adventure taken from old fairy tales and other ballads.
一面让我们迫不及待地倾听她一段段爱情和冒险故事，这些片段取自于古老的神话传说和更古老的歌谣。
Or (as at a later period I discovered) from the pages of Pamela, and Henry, Earl of Moreland.
或者如我后来所发现，来自《帕美拉》和《莫兰伯爵亨利》。
