[考研类试卷]2007年北京外国语大学英语专业(英美文学)真题试卷及答案与解析.doc
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1、2007年北京外国语大学英语专业(英美文学)真题试卷及答案与解析 一、匹配题 0 Authors A. Christopher Marlowe B. Emily Dickinson C. Flannery O Connor D. Francis Bacon E. John Milton F. Jonathan Swift G. Ralph Waldo Emerson H. Sir Thomas More I. T.S.Eliot J. Virginia Woolf K. William Shakespeare L. William Wordsworth 1 But the Idols of t
2、he Marketplace are the most troublesome of all: idols which have crept into the understanding through the alliances of words and names. For men believe that their reason governs words; but it is also true that words react on the understanding; and this it is that has rendered philosophy and the scie
3、nces sophistical and inactive. 2 I, John Faustus of Wittenberg, Doctor, by these presents do give both body and soul to Lucifer, Prince of the East. 3 To go into solitude, a man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society. I am not solitary whilst I read and write though nobody is with
4、me. But if a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly words, will separate between him and vulgar things. 4 Most Utopians, however, and among these all the wisest, believe nothing of the sort: the believe in a single power, unknown, eternal, infinite, ine
5、xplicable, far beyond the grasp of the human mind, and diffused throughout the universe, not physically, but in influence. 5 Nature, in its ministry to man, is not only the material, but is also the process and the result. All the parts incessantly work into each others hands for the profit of man.
6、The wind sows the seed; the sun evaporates the sea; the wind blows the vapor to the field; the ice, on the other side of the planet, condenses rain on this; the rain feeds the plant; the plant feeds the animal; and thus the endless circulations of the divine charity nourish man. 6 The passions that
7、build up our human Soul, Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring things, With life and nature, purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying, by such discipline, Both pain and fear; until we recognize A grandeur in the beating of the h
8、eart. 7 Success is counted sweetest By those who neer succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. 8 Of mans first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our owe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and reg
9、ain the blissful seat 9 It the censure of Yahoos could any way affect me, I should have great reason to complain that some of them are so bold as to think my book of travels a mere fiction out of mine own brain. 10 I told you in the course of this paper that Shakespeare had a sister; but do not look
10、 for her in Sir Sidney Lees life of the poet. She died young alas, she never wrote a word. She lies buried where the omnibuses now stop, opposite the Elephant and Castle. Now my belief is that this poet who never wrote a word and was buried at the crossroads still lives. She lives in you and in me,
11、and in many other women who are not here tonight, for they are washing up the dishes and putting the children to bed. 二、分析题 10 Story of an Hour Kate Chopin Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband
12、s death. It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences, veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husbands friend Richards was there, too near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallards n
13、ame leading the list of “killed“. He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message. She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to
14、 accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sisters arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her. There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed
15、down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares.
16、The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled above the other in the west facing her window. She sat with her head thrown
17、back upon the cushion of the chair quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams. She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was
18、a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought. There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it
19、was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was strivi
20、ng to beat it back with her willas powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: “Free, free, free!“ The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed
21、it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body. She did not stop to ask if it were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew
22、that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her
23、arms out to them in welcome. There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending her in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a fight to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind inten
24、tion or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination. And yet she had loved him sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession of self-assertion which she
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