All these circumstances concurred to render
their songs of the vanished deer and greenwood archery and
Yoicks and Harkaway, extremely mal-a-propos, and to make
his anger boil and bubble in the cauldron of his spirit,
till its more than ordinary excitement burst forth with sudden
impulse into active manifestation.
[1] Roasting by a slow fire for the love of God.
But as it sometimes happens, from the might
Of rage in minds that can no farther go,
As high as they have mounted in despite
In their remission do they sink as low,
To our bold baron did it happen so.[2]
[2] Of these lines all that is not in italics belongs to
Mr. Wordsworth: Resolution and Independence.
For his discobolic exploit proved the climax of his rage, and was
succeeded by an immediate sense that he had passed the bounds
of legitimate passion; and he sunk immediately from the very
pinnacle of opposition to the level of implicit acquiescence.
The friar's spirits were not to be marred by such a little incident.
He was half-inclined, at first, to return the baron's compliment;
but his love of Matilda checked him; and when the baron held out his hand,
the friar seized it cordially, and they drowned all recollection
of the affair by pledging each other in a cup of canary.
The friar, having stayed long enough to see every thing replaced
on a friendly footing, rose, and moved to take his leave.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55