兩條船迎接我們的是同樣駭人的景象。
On their decks, reddened with blood, the murderers of St. Bartholomew and of the Sicilian Vespers, with the fires of Smithfield,
甲板被鮮血染紅了,圣巴爾托洛繆和西西里晚禱大屠殺的劊子手手上拎著史密斯菲爾德火槍,
seem to break forth anew, and to concentrate their rage.
似乎要重新上演一場人間血案,將他們的狂怒集中到一起。
Each has now become a swimming Golgotha.
現(xiàn)在,每條船都成了在水上漂著的墓地。
At length, these vessels — such pageants of the sea — once so stately — so proudly built — but now rudely shattered by cannon balls,
最終,這些船——海上奇觀——曾經(jīng)那樣莊嚴(yán)肅穆,如此巧奪天工的杰作,現(xiàn)在被炮彈炸得粉碎,
with shivered masts and ragged sails — exist only as unmanageable wrecks, weltering on the uncertain waves,
卷起的船桅和破布一般的船帆,僅剩難以控制的破壞,在吉兇難測的波浪上顛簸搖晃。
whose temporary lull of peace is now their only safety.
暫時的這段平靜現(xiàn)在成了他們唯一的憑靠。
In amazement at this strange, unnatural contest — away from country and home — where there is no country or home to defend
這場奇異和不自然的搏斗帶給人們莫大的驚異——遠(yuǎn)離故土和家園——在這里沒有國家和家園需要守衛(wèi)。
we ask again, wherefore this dismal duel?
我們不禁再一次發(fā)問,為什么會有這場凄涼的決斗?
Again the melancholy but truthful answer promptly comes, that this is the established method of determining justice between nations.
令人傷感但切中事實(shí)的答案馬上就能得出,那就是這是確定國家之間司法權(quán)約定俗成的方式。