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The party broke up without having made themselves responsible for any of the orgies of which Childe Harold raves, and which Dallas in good earnest accepts as veracious, when the poet and his friend Hobhouse started for Falmouth, on their way "outre mer." There is no romance of Munchausen or Dumas more marvellous than the adventures attributed to Lord Byron abroad.
Many a time he had asked himself what Trent would do if he knew only the fear of his complete ignorance of the man had kept him silent all these years. Now the crisis had come! He had spoken! It might mean ruin. "Send for him?" Da Souza said. "Why? His memory has gone save for occasional fits of passion in which he raves at you.
"You see, my dear young lady," the Professor said, pompously, "his is the worst form of insanity; the very worst. When a patient raves constantly we know precisely what to do with him.
The paternal Emperor sends down dire edicts, thicker than hail upon the earth. The Holy Father blasts and raves from Rome. Louvain doctors denounce, Louvain hangmen burn, the bitter, blasphemous books.
Coventry tells me to-day that the Queen had a very good night last night; but yet it is strange that still she raves and talks of little more than of her having of children, and fancys now that she hath three children, and that the girle is very like the King. 28th. Up and at my office all the morning, and at noon Mr.
It sometimes happens nowadays that a gentle, sober, retiring man becomes suddenly mad, breaks the plates, upsets the table, shrieks, raves, and shocks everybody and finally withdraws, ashamed, and raging at himself whither? for what purpose? To famish apart? To suffocate with his memories?
A length of lace unstarched, a ribbon unsewed, a flower set awry, anything that crumples only one of the myriad rose-leaves on which she lies, and the spoilt woman raves as much as if each particular leaf had become suddenly beset with thorns.
High over the marge of the horrible deep Hangs and hovers a bridge with its phantom-like span, Not by man was it built, o'er the vastness to sweep; Such thought never came to the daring of man! The stream roars beneath late and early it raves But the bridge, which it threatens, is safe from the waves.
Or, again, when storm-tossed and tempest-weary, it rages and raves with all its pent-up fury broken loose goaded to frenzy by the howling lashes of Aeolus and the roar of the storm-fiend.
He raves about Ossian, gazes for hours on the Maison Carrée at Nismes, writes letters to Paine on arcs and catenaries, busies himself with vocabularies, natural history, geology, discourses magisterially about Newton and Lavoisier, and studies nothing thoroughly. One can see by the way in which he handles his technical terms that he does not know the use of them.
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