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All the evening sky was now aflame. Upon the ear there fell the mournful lament: When snow has veiled the earth in white, The snowy plain the wild wolves tread. They wail for the cheering warmth of spring As I bewail the bairn that's dead. Vologonov listened for a moment. Then he said firmly: "These are mere accesses of impulse which come upon her. And that is only what might be expected.
After this, they walked hand-in-hand. Professor Marshall continued to walk rapidly, scuffling in his loose, unlaced shoes. They passed barns and farmhouses, the latter sleeping, black in the starlight, with darkened windows. In one, a poor little shack of two rooms, there was a lighted pane, and as they passed, Sylvia heard the sick wail of a little child. The sound pierced her heart.
Suddenly, beside me I distinctly heard a sigh, a compassionate, mournful sigh. The sound was unmistakable. I started from my seat, looked round, amazed to discover no one, no living thing! The windows were closed, the night was still. That sigh was not the wail of the wind. But there, in the darker angle of the room, what was that?
Oh that none of us may be the subjects of that sad wail from a Saviour's heart and a Saviour's lips, which lamented, 'If thou hadst known, at least, in this thy day, the things that belong to thy peace; but now' the night has come, and the darkness of the night, and 'they are hid from thine eyes!
"There is to be a big Run to-morrow a mighty Kill," said A'tim, growing tired of the old Bull's reminiscent wail. "Where?" queried the other. "At Stone Hill Corral. Eagle Shoe says they will kill five hundred head." "I know," sighed Shag "at the Pound; I know that death-trap. Half a Herd I lost there once through the conceit of a young Bull hardly out of the Spike Horn age.
With his eyes still upon hers, as a cat might mesmerize a bird, he changed into a minor wail of heart-broken love, whose sadness brought great tears to Marcia’s eyes, and deep color to her already burning cheeks, while the music throbbed out her own half-realized loneliness and sorrow.
Morton and Molly had been so drilled in their deportment before they came, that each sat now stiff and solemn as martinets awaiting some command; Morton, eying hopelessly the tiny bouillon-cup before him, with the healthy appetite of a boy who had not eaten anything since an early breakfast; while Molly, after a stony rigidity of perhaps two minutes, suddenly gave a little twist and drew a sigh as long and lugubrious as the wail of an autumn blast.
The very doggrel of them, the total absence of any attempt at ornament in diction or polish in metre, is proof complete of their deep heart-wrung sincerity. They are like the wail of a lost child, rather than the remorse of a Titan. The heart of the man was so young to the last; the boy-vein in him, as perhaps in all great poets, beating on through manhood for good and for evil.
Oh! it was a sad sight, sad to see men in the vigorous health of early youth and the strong powers of manhood's prime cast lifeless on the ground and left to rot there for the mistaken idea on the Kafirs' part that white men were their natural enemies, when, in truth, they brought to their land the comforts of civilised life; sad to think that they had died for the mistaken notion that their country was being taken from them, when in truth they had much more country than they knew what to do with more than was sufficient to support themselves and all the white men who have ever gone there, and all that are likely to go for many years to come; sad to think of the stern necessity that compelled the white men to lay them low; sadder still to think of the wives and mothers, sisters and little ones, who were left to wail unavailingly for fathers and brothers lost to them for ever; and saddest of all to remember that it is not merely the naked savage in his untutored ignorance, but the civilised white man in his learned wisdom, who indulges in this silly, costly, murderous, brutal, and accursed game of war!
Poor maiden! bootless wail or vow "Have mercy, Jove be gracious, thou! Dread prayer was mine before!" What if the gods have heard and he, Lone victim of the stormy sea, Now struggles to the shore! There's not a sea-bird on the wave Their hurrying wings the shelter seek; The stoutest ship the storms have proved, Takes refuge in the creek.
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