. Tales of chivalry : or, Perils by flood and field ..... d aloud: Spare me, spare awretch ; I know not—1 did not—1 havespent a horrid existence, since I commit-ted that terrible deed. Thus he, inbroken sentences, implored for pity:* spare me, if only to live in wretched-ness, to make some atonement for guilt;spare me; oh! spare me. He rose,he tottered forwards again, and fell at thephantoms feet, who, seizing him, address-ed him for the last time, Thou wantedstthy life, to live in misery : Behold thydeath ; thou hadst no pity—thou didstnot spare tiiy fathers life, when on hisknees he implored
. Tales of chivalry : or, Perils by flood and field ..... d aloud: Spare me, spare awretch ; I know not—1 did not—1 havespent a horrid existence, since I commit-ted that terrible deed. Thus he, inbroken sentences, implored for pity:* spare me, if only to live in wretched-ness, to make some atonement for guilt;spare me; oh! spare me. He rose,he tottered forwards again, and fell at thephantoms feet, who, seizing him, address-ed him for the last time, Thou wantedstthy life, to live in misery : Behold thydeath ; thou hadst no pity—thou didstnot spare tiiy fathers life, when on hisknees he implored thee, giving up allhis wealth ; think, parricide, on that!Think, glut thy mind with thy ferocity ;but now, thy time is up ; we must speaking, he raised the almost dyingmurderer from the ground, and leapedfrom the precipice. A shriek, a long qui-vering shriek, burst from the heart-strick-en Glenalvon—a fearful plunge—a horrid,fiendish laugh, and the parricide hadexpiated a life of wickedness and sin. OR, BY FLOOD AND THE SILVER LAMP: A liEGEND OF THE UAKZ. The Harz Foiesf, in Germany, or rather themountains called Blockberg, or BrokenLerg arethe chosen scene for witches, djcmons, and appa-ritions. Antiquary. * Here, then, dear Werdorf, we mustpart—perhaps for ever ! Nay, I beseechthee, do not tarry longer—every momentplaces thy life still more in jeopardy. Fare-well, Werdorf!—farewell!—Forget not—forsake not Hermione ! ** Forsake thee, mine own love—never!sooner shall yon planiet forsake its parentsky. No, my Hermione, in the hour oftriumph, or in the hour of danger—in thecell of misery, or in the bovver of beauty,whithersoever fate may guide me—comeweal, come woe, be sure this heart willnever cease to love thee ! The youth wrung the hand of his mis-tress, who, gently disengaging herself,stealthily retracedlier steps towards a largecastellated building, the lower part ofwhich was closely concealed by severaltall heathy hills
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookpublisherlondo, bookyear1854
