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Updated: May 24, 2025
But when the bones and the fat they had burn'd, and had tasted the entrails, All that remain'd was divided and fix'd on the spits of the striplings, Roasted with skill at the fire, and in readiness moved from the altar: Then was the labour complete, and the banquet prepared for the people, And they were banqueted all, nor had one to complain of his portion.
To him, as to the bursting levin, Brief, bright, resistless course was given, Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, Burn'd, blaz'd, destroy'd and was no more. Scott.
"The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tunes of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description."
It lay on the slope, and midway down we pass'd some watch fires burn'd out; and then a soldier or two running and fastening their straps; and last a little child, that seem'd wild with the joy of living amid great events, but led us pretty straight to the sign of "The Tree," which indeed was the only tavern.
Birds in the aire were rosted and not burn'd, For, as they fell downe, all the way they turn'd. Sis. Most excellent! De. I have seene Larkes in that motion at fire With an Engine of packthread perpendicular. Sis. What would they have given for a shower in those Cuntries? De.
When the shower of stars was over, and silence and darkness once more reigned, a magnificent barge, that might well have represented that of the Egyptian queen its gay canopies resplendent with the glow of many-colored lamps swept out into the middle of the lake, and "Like a burnished throne Burn'd on the water."
The following lines came full into Caroline's recollection as French Clay spoke: "Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself has said, This is my own, my native land? Whose heart has ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand?
The whole passage referred to in the text is this: Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well!
"The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
But what brought me to a stand was to see the doorway all crack'd and charr'd, and across it a soldier stretch'd a green-coated rebel and quite dead. His face lay among the burn'd ruins of the door, that had wofully singed his beard and hair. A stain of blood ran across the door stone and into the road. I was gazing upon him and shuddering, when again I heard the groans.
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