Rufus, Or, The Red King: A Romance

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Saunders & Otley, 1838

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Page 248 - They bear him upon the shoulder, they carry him, and set him in his place, and he standeth; from his place shall he not remove: yea, one shall cry unto him, yet can he not answer, nor save him out of his trouble.
Page 268 - Ere the ruddy sun be set, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet, Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. (Weave the crimson web of war) Let us go, and let us fly, Where our friends the conflict share, Where they triumph, where they die. As the paths of fate we tread, Wading thro' th' ensanguin'd field: Gondula, and Geira, spread O'er the youthful king your shield.
Page 247 - Curse not the king, no not in thy thought; and curse not the rich in thy bedchamber: for a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter.
Page 268 - Ne'er again his likeness see; Long her strains in sorrow steep, Strains of immortality! Horror covers all the heath, Clouds of carnage blot the sun: Sisters! weave the web of death: Sisters! cease; the work is done.
Page 128 - It is their funeral knell ! and gliding near Methinks the phantoms of the dead appear ! But lo ! emerging from the watery grave Again they float incumbent on the wave, Again the dismal prospect opens round, — The wreck, the shore, the dying and the drowned ! And see ! enfeebled by repeated shocks, Those two, who scramble on the...
Page 206 - We have no time now here to waste, Hence quickly let us sail : My only sister Margaret, Something, I fear, doth ail.
Page 148 - O'er the steep rocks is borne along. Blest power of sunshine ! — genial Day, What balm, what life is in thy ray I To feel thee is such real bliss That had the world no joy but this, To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, — It were a world too exquisite For man to leave it for the gloom, The deep, cold shadow of the tomb.
Page 213 - Aliie attention claim, And Warkworth, proud of Percy's name; And next they crossed themselves to hear The whitening breakers...
Page 213 - Thy tower, proud Bamborough, marked they there, King Ida's castle, huge and square, From its tall rock look grimly down, And on the swelling ocean frown; Then from the coast they bore away, And reached the Holy Island's bay.
Page 58 - — the venturous boatmen cry — " Shoot we the bridge ! " — the exulting fare : reply. — Down the steep fall the headlong waters go, Curls the white foam, the breakers roar below. — The veering helm the...

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