All through the morning the air was held in an ominous stillness. Sitting over my books I seemed to feel the silence; when I turned my look to the window, I saw nothing but the broad, grey sky, a featureless expanse, cold, melancholy. Later, just as I was bestirring myself to go out for an afternoon walk, something white fell softly across my vision. A few minutes more, and all was hidden with a descending veil of silent snow.
It is a disappointment. Yesterday I half believed that the winter drew to its end; the breath of the hills was soft; spaces of limpid azure shone amid slow-drifting clouds and seemed the promise of spring. Idle by the fireside, in the gathering dusk, I began to long for the days of light and warmth. My fancy wandered, leading me far and wide in a dream of summer England.
整个上午,空气中都充满了一种不祥的寂静。坐在那里看书时,我似乎能感觉到这种沉寂;我转身看向窗外,只有一片广阔的灰色天空映入眼帘——广袤、冰冷而沉郁，没有任何特色。过了一会儿,在我正要去午后散步的时候，一种白色的东西轻轻地落人我的视线。几分钟之后,无声无息从天而降的雪幕便把一切都遮掩起来了。
这真是件扫兴的事情。昨天我还有几分相信冬天就要过去了:山上吹来的风是柔和的;透明的蔚蓝色天空在轻轻浮动的云朵间若隐若现,仿佛是春日的预兆。暮色渐沉,我在炉火边安然而坐,向往着那明媚而温暖的日子。我的幻想带着我在夏日英格兰宽广的梦境中漫步。
This is the valley of the Blythe. The stream ripples and glances over its brown bed warmed with sunbeams; by its bank the green flags wave and rustle, and all about, the meadows shine in pure gold of buttercups. The hawthorn hedges are a mass of gleaming blossom, which scents the breeze. There above rises the heath, yellow-mantled with gorse, and beyond, if I walk for an hour or two, I shall come out upon the sandy cliffs of Suffolk and look over the northern sea.
I am in Wensleydale, climbing from the rocky river that leaps amid broad pastures up to the rolling moor. Up and up, till my feet brush through heather, and the grouse whirrs away before me. Under a glowing sky of summer, this air of the uplands has still a life which spurs to movement, which makes the heart bound. The dale is hidden; I see only the brown and purple wilderness, cutting against the blue with great round shoulders, and far away to the west, an horizon of sombre heights.
这里是布莱斯河谷。阳光将棕色的河床晒得暖洋洋的,溪流在其中泛着涟漪、闪着波光;河岸上绿色的鸢尾草随风摇曳,发出沙沙的声响;四周长满纯金色金凤花的草地闪耀着光芒。山楂树篱上开满了花，芬芳随风荡漾。一片高出地面的荒地上,铺满黄色的金雀花。如果再往远处走上一两个小时,我就可以到达萨福克郡的沙质悬崖,并能从那里眺望北方的大海。
在文斯利代尔,我沿着在辽阔草原上奔流而过的礁石遍布的河流,向绵延起伏的荒野攀登。我一直向上爬,直到我的脚从石南花上轻踏而过,松鸡飞跑过我的眼前。在夏日炽热的天空下,高地上的空气仍然有一种激励人运动、使人心跳加速的生命力。山谷隐伏起来了,我只看到圆肩形轮廓的褐紫色荒野映衬着蓝色的天空;再往西去,远处的地平线上矗立着一片昏暗的山峦。
I ramble through a village in Gloucestershire, a village which seems forsaken in this drowsy warmth of the afternoon. The houses of grey stone are old and beautiful, telling of a time when Englishmen knew how to build whether for rich or poor; the gardens glow with flowers, and the air is delicately sweet. At the village end, I come into a lane, which winds upwards between grassy slopes, to turf and bracken and woods of noble beech. Here I am upon a spur of the Cotswolds, and before me spreads the wide vale of Evesham, with its ripening crops, its fruiting orchards, watered by sacred Avon. Beyond, softly blue, the hills of Malvern. On the branch hard by warbles a little bird, glad in his leafy solitude. A rabbit jumps through the fern. There sounds the laugh of a woodpecker from the copse in yonder hollow.
我漫步在格洛斯特郡的一个村庄中;在令人倦怠的午后暖意中,它仿佛被人遗弃了一般。灰石块建造的房屋古朴而美丽,这表明在那个时期，无论贫穿还是富有,每一个英国人都了解建造房屋的工艺。花园中万紫千红,空气中透着一股醉人的甜香。我来到村庄的尽头,沿着一条小径而行,这条小径穿过草地、欧洲蕨和茂密的山毛榉树林,在绿草如茵的斜坡间曲折而上。我身处科茨沃尔德丘陵地带的一处山岩上,在我眼前延伸开去的是辽阔的伊夫舍姆山谷。在这里,那成熟的庄稼和缀满果实的果园,接受着神圣的埃文河的灌溉。远处那一片温柔的蓝色,是马文山。一只小鸟正独自在旁边的绿枝上欢声鸣啭;在羊齿草丛间，一只野兔蹦跳着穿过;啄木鸟的笑声从远处山谷中的灌木丛里传来。
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