The Cremation of Sam McGee

03-06

分享一個來自英文課上的有意思的英文故事

The Cremation of Sam McGee

By Robert W.Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam round the Pole, God only knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though hed often say in his homely way that "hed sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parkas fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes wed close,then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldnt see;

It wasnt much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars oerhead were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "Ill cash in this trip, I guess;

And if I do, Im asking that you wont refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldnt say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

"Its the cursèd cold,and its got right hold till Im chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet taint being dead—its my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, youll cremate my last remains."

A pals last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasnt a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldnt get rid, because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and its up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

And Id often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didnt like to hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I dont know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "Ill just take a peep inside.

I guess hes cooked, and its time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.

Its fine in here, but I greatly fear youll let in the cold and storm—

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, its the first time Ive been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Its a poem, and one that rhymes - although its also a story. Tell them they might try reading it aloud. (Its a longish poem, but a shortish story...).

2. Its set in Canada, sometime in the 1900s, when a gold-rush was on; the two characters in the story have been looking for gold; one of them (at least) is from America - Sam McGee. Its also set very far up north in Canada, in the middle of winter, so its very, very cold, and much of the story is about that. The dogs that are referred to are sled dogs - like Eskimos (we now say Inuit) have.

3. "moil" means "look for" (roughly); "marge" is short for "margin" or "edge," so "the marge of Lake Lebarge" means "the edge of Lake Lebarge"; "Lake Lebarge" is not a real lake: the

author - Robert Service - just made it up for the rhyme ("marge"... "Lebarge"). "derelict"

means "a derelict boat," or "a boat which is broken down." The boat was a steam ship,

so it has a boiler, which in turn has a furnace. Other words might not be familiar to them, but they can look them up.

0. It has a happy ending!