汉尼拔——迦太基的英雄（2）
《泰西故事30篇》作者：李汉昭 2017-04-10 17:32
汉尼拔——迦太基的英雄（2）
The temples are crowded with worshipers. Officers and tradesmen are there to implore gods to bless the voyage of H***lcar. Women and children are there to pray for the protection of their husbands or fathers who are going out to fight for the glory of Carthage. All bring gifts for the stern god, and the altars are smoking with burnt offerings.
It is noon. A grand procession passes down the street and enters the chief temple of Baal. H***lcar himself is there, and with him are the officers of state and the most famous men of the city. They have come, according to the custom of the time, to make their due offerings to the gods. It is thus that they pray for the success of their army in Spain.
By the side of the general is his little son Hannibal, now nine years of age. Young though he is, he is already a man in thought and ambition. It is his wish to be a great warrior like his father. Every day he has begged to be allowed to go with the army to Spain.
“I am not a child, father; for I reach almost up to your shoulder. I will be strong and brave. I will fight in the front ranks. No one shall call me weak or cowardly. I will serve you well if I may go.”
But the father firmly refuses.
“Wait yet a few years, my son. The time is coming when we shall have a much greater war; for soon Carthage must destroy Rome or be destroyed by her. Be patient, Hannibal. Stay at home yet a while; nurse your hatred of the Romans; study the art of war. You shall at length lead our armies to greater victories than mine shall be in Spain.”
And now father and son walk side by side down the long dim aisle of the temple of Baal. Through the smoke and the dark shadows of the overhanging arches, the grim-faced idols look down upon the pair. The priests stand in their places. Drums are beaten. Discordant music fills the air.
“Place your hand on the altar, Hannibal.”
The boy obeys.
The father pours out costly incense as an offering to Baal.
“Now make your vow, my son.”
And Hannibal, nothing daunted, repeats before Baal and the long-robed priests the vow he has been taught to make. He vows that he will cherish undying hatred for the Romans, that day and night he will study to do the
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The temples are crowded with worshipers. Officers and tradesmen are there to implore gods to bless the voyage of H***lcar. Women and children are there to pray for the protection of their husbands or fathers who are going out to fight for the glory of Carthage. All bring gifts for the stern god, and the altars are smoking with burnt offerings.
It is noon. A grand procession passes down the street and enters the chief temple of Baal. H***lcar himself is there, and with him are the officers of state and the most famous men of the city. They have come, according to the custom of the time, to make their due offerings to the gods. It is thus that they pray for the success of their army in Spain.
By the side of the general is his little son Hannibal, now nine years of age. Young though he is, he is already a man in thought and ambition. It is his wish to be a great warrior like his father. Every day he has begged to be allowed to go with the army to Spain.
“I am not a child, father; for I reach almost up to your shoulder. I will be strong and brave. I will fight in the front ranks. No one shall call me weak or cowardly. I will serve you well if I may go.”
But the father firmly refuses.
“Wait yet a few years, my son. The time is coming when we shall have a much greater war; for soon Carthage must destroy Rome or be destroyed by her. Be patient, Hannibal. Stay at home yet a while; nurse your hatred of the Romans; study the art of war. You shall at length lead our armies to greater victories than mine shall be in Spain.”
And now father and son walk side by side down the long dim aisle of the temple of Baal. Through the smoke and the dark shadows of the overhanging arches, the grim-faced idols look down upon the pair. The priests stand in their places. Drums are beaten. Discordant music fills the air.
“Place your hand on the altar, Hannibal.”
The boy obeys.
The father pours out costly incense as an offering to Baal.
“Now make your vow, my son.”
And Hannibal, nothing daunted, repeats before Baal and the long-robed priests the vow he has been taught to make. He vows that he will cherish undying hatred for the Romans, that day and night he will study to do the