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By his way of relating the case, it should seem to have been rather a pet murder with him, for he retouches it with an apparent anxiety for its picturesque effect: Whereat he inly raged; and, as they talk'd, Smote him into the midriff with a stone That beat out life: he fell; and, deadly pale, Groan'd out his soul with gushing blood effus'd. Par. Lost, B. XI.
Fair was the breeze that attended their going from Phoebus Apollo; Upward they hoisted the mast, and the white sail spread to receive it; Full on the canvass it smote, and the dark-blue swell of the waters Echo'd around at their coming, and groan'd to the plunge of the galley, Onward advancing apace, as it sever'd the path of the billows.
But when that moan had past for evermore, The stillness of the dead world's winter dawn Amazed him, and he groan'd, "The King is gone." And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme, "From the great deep to the great deep he goes"
He saw the laws that ruled the tournament Broken, but spake not; once, a knight cast down Before his throne of arbitration cursed The dead babe and the follies of the King; And once the laces of a helmet crack'd, And show'd him, like a vermin in its hole, Modred, a narrow face: anon he heard The voice that billow'd round the barriers roar An ocean-sounding welcome to one knight, But newly-enter'd, taller than the rest, And armour'd all in forest green, whereon There tript a hundred tiny silver deer, And wearing but a holly-spray for crest, With ever-scattering berries, and on shield A spear, a harp, a bugle Tristram late From overseas in Brittany return'd, And marriage with a princess of that realm, Isolt the White Sir Tristram of the Woods Whom Lancelot knew, had held sometime with pain His own against him, and now yearn'd to shake The burthen off his heart in one full shock With Tristram ev'n to death: his strong hands gript And dinted the gilt dragons right and left, Until he groan'd for wrath so many of those, That ware their ladies' colours on the casque, Drew from before Sir Tristram to the bounds, And there with gibes and flickering mockeries Stood, while he mutter'd, 'Craven crests!
I groan'd, and hiding with my arm my head, in a flood of tears lean'd on the pillow: Nor did she then, less troubled, sit on the bed, and began in a shrill voice, to blame her age, till the priestess came in upon us; and "what," said she, "do you do in my chappel, as if some funeral had lately been, rather than a holy-day, in which, even the mournful are merry?"
"Indeed, your Highnesses be only drunk," said I, "and able at that to sign the order that I shall ask you for." "An order!" "To pass the city gates to-night." "Oh, stop him somebody," groan'd Prince Rupert: "my head is whirling." "With your leave," I explain'd, pouring out another glassful: "tis the simplest matter, and one that a child could understand.
'The knights are dust. By the marge of a brook, on the slope of Helvellyn, Under the boughs of a young birch tree. The Oak that in summer was pleasant to hear, That rustled in Autumn all withered and sear, That whistled and groan'd thro' the Winter alone, He hath gone, and a birch in his place is grown. The knight's bones are dust, His good sword is rust; His spirit is with, the saints, we trust."
A. No.... Q. Who is it that afflicts you? A. I know not, there is a great many of them.... Q. You have seen the black man, hant you? A. No. Reply. I hope you never shall. Q. You have had a book offered you, hant you? A. No. Q. The brushing of you gives you ease, don't it? A. Yes. She turn'd herselfe, and a little groan'd. Q. Now the witches scratch you, and pinch you, and bite you, don't they?
Swift from his couch he sprung, and 'scap'd the blow; When from an unknown hand the arrows fly, That lay the ruffian, in his vengeance, low. He groan'd, he died! from forth a column'd gate A fearful shepherd, pale and silent, crept, Who, as he watch'd his folded flock star-late, Had mark'd the robber steal where Hamet slept. He fear'd his own, and sav'd a stranger's life!
"The fiend's alarm began; a hollow sound Sung in the leaves; the forest rock'd around, Air blackened, rolled the thunder, groan'd the ground."
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