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Updated: June 6, 2025
Tancred, Prince of Salerno, a lord most humane and kind of heart, but that in his old age he imbrued his hands in the blood of a lover, had in the whole course of his life but one daughter; and had he not had her, he had been more fortunate.
Judges, lawyers, seafaring men, hirelings of the Immigration Bureau, Chinatown guides, "Watch-dogs," officials and policemen, have all been accused of having imbrued their hands at different times in the slaughter of the virtue of Chinese women through this wretched slave business, besides the white patrons of the Chinese slave-pens.
He could have fallen on his neck and kissed him; for Francisco had become to him a capture more prized than all the wealth of the Indies. But one pure, good feeling was unextinguished in the bosom of Cain; stained with every crime with his hands so deeply imbrued in blood at enmity with all the rest of the world, that one feeling burnt bright and clear, and was not to be quenched.
The troops of Æmilianus, who still lay encamped in the plains of Spoleto, were awed by the sanctity of his character, but much more by the superior strength of his army; and as they were now become as incapable of personal attachment as they had always been of constitutional principle, they readily imbrued their hands in the blood of a prince who so lately had been the object of their partial choice.
It is true there is a Times in the smoking-room of the hotel, but it is always engaged five deep, is the cause of terrible quarrels, and every afternoon we expect to see it imbrued in gore.
But the General could find no man in that part of the state who was bold enough to undertake so dangerous mission. The country to be passed through for many miles was full of blood-thirsty Tories, who, on every occasion that offered, imbrued their hands in the blood of the Whigs.
'O gracious creature and benign! who go'st Visiting, through this element obscure, Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued, If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd, Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise, Since thou hast pity on our evil plight Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind As now is mute The land that gave me birth Is situate on the coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams 'Love that in gentle heart is quickly learnt Entangled him by that fair form, from me Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still, Love that denial takes from none beloved Caught me with pleasing him so passing well That as thou seest, he yet deserts me not 'Love brought us to one death, Caina waits The soul who spilt our life' Such were their words, At hearing which downward I bent my looks And held them there so long that the bard cried 'What art thou pondering? I in answer thus 'Alas' by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire Must they at length to that ill pass have reached' Then turning, I to them my speech address'd, And thus began 'Francesca! your sad fate Even to tears my grief and pity moves But tell me, in the time of your sweet sighs, By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew Your yet uncertain wishes? She replied 'No greater grief then to remember days Of joy when misery is at hand That kens Thy learn'd instructor Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the primal root From whence our love gat being, I will do As one who weeps and tells his tale One day For our delight we read of Lancelot, How him love thrall'd Alone we were and no Suspicion near us Oft-times by that reading Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue Fled from our altered cheek But at one point Alone we fell When of that smile we read, That wished smile, so rapturously kissed By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er From me shall separate, at once my lips All trembling kissed The book and writer both Were love's purveyors In its leaves that day We read no more' While thus one spirit spake The other wailed so sorely, that heart-struck I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far From death and like a corse fell to the ground"
A thread imbrued in some of this matter was sent to me, and with it two children were inoculated, whose cases I shall transcribe from my notes. Stephen Jenner, three years and a half old. 3d day: The arm shewed a proper and decisive inflammation. 6th: A vesicle arising. 7th: The pustule of a cherry colour. 8th: Increasing in elevation.
"Of Cinq-Mars the rebel," she said, sighing. "Well, have it so, the rebel; but no longer the favorite. Rebel, criminal, worthy of the scaffold, I know it," cried the impassioned youth, falling on his knees; "but a rebel for love, a rebel for you, whom my sword will at last achieve for me." "Alas, a sword imbrued in the blood of your country! Is it not a poniard?" "Pause! for pity, pause, Marie!
"Of Cinq-Mars the rebel," she said, sighing. "Well, have it so, the rebel; but no longer the favorite. Rebel, criminal, worthy of the scaffold, I know it," cried the impassioned youth, falling on his knees; "but a rebel for love, a rebel for you, whom my sword will at last achieve for me." "Alas, a sword imbrued in the blood of your country! Is it not a poniard?" "Pause! for pity, pause, Marie!
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