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Boom!" dexterous Grumkow has drawn a Humming-top from his pocket, and suddenly sent it spinning. There it hums and caracoles, through the bottles and glasses; reckless what dangerous breakage and spilth it may occasion. Friedrich Wilhelm looked aside to it indignantly. "What is that?" inquired he, in metallic tone still high.
The Crucifixion, with its agonising deity and prostrate groups of women, sunk below the grief of tears; the Temptation in the wilderness, with its passionate contrast of the grey-robed Man of Sorrows and the ruby-winged, voluptuous fiend; the Temptation of Adam in Eden, a glowing allegory of the fascination of the spirit by the flesh; Paradise, a tempest of souls, whirled like Lucretian atoms or gold dust in sunbeams by the celestial forces that perform the movement of the spheres; the Destruction of the world, where all the fountains and rivers and lakes and seas of earth have formed one cataract, that thunders with cities and nations on its rapids down a bottomless gulf; while all the winds and hurricanes of the air have grown into one blast, that carries men like dead leaves up to judgment; the Plague of the fiery serpents, with multitudes encoiled and writhing on a burning waste of sand; the Massacre of the Innocents, with its spilth of blood on slippery pavements of porphyry and serpentine; the Delivery of the tables of the law to Moses amid clouds on Sinai, a white ascetic, lightning-smitten man emerging in the glory of apparent godhead; the anguish of the Magdalen above her martyred God; the solemn silence of Christ before the throne of Pilate; the rushing of the wings of Seraphim, and the clangour of the trumpet that awakes the dead; these are the soul-stirring themes that Tintoretto handles with the ease of mastery.
The dinner hour, however, coincided with the time of evening service, so that it was impossible to go then, and finally they spent the evening in what they all agreed to call "a perfectly quiet game at cards." "I tempted his blood and his flesh, Hid in roses my mesh, Choicest cates, and the flagon's best spilth." Robert Browning.
'My dear Mendel, observed the wizened senior, flicking away the spilth with a blue handkerchief, 'Simeon Samuels has already paid his annual subscription and you haven't! 'My money is good, Mendel replied, reddening. 'No wonder he can pay so quickly! said Solomon Barzinsky, shuffling the cards savagely. 'How he makes his money is not the question, said the Parnass weightily.
Struggling horses, grappling at the ice-bound floor with sharp-spiked shoes; huge, hoarse drivers, some clad in sheepskins from Italian valleys, some brown as bears in rough Graubünden homespun; casks, dropping their spilth of red wine on the snow; greetings, embracings; patois of Bergamo, Romansch, and German roaring around the low-browed vaults and tingling ice pillars; pourings forth of libations of the new strong Valtelline on breasts and beards; the whole made up a scene of stalwart jollity and manful labour such as I have nowhere else in such wild circumstances witnessed.
To me there seemed no stint of water in any of the fountains of Rome. In some a mere wasteful spilth seems the sole design of the artist, as in the Fontana Paolina on the Janiculum, where the cold wash of its deluge seemed to add a piercing chill to our windy afternoon.
"Thus all we laud May's sowing, Nor heed how harvests please When nowhere grain worth growing Greets autumn's questing breeze, And garnerers garner these Vain words and wasted breath And spilth and tasteless lees Until released by death.
Down her body there was a spilth of seeds and pulp. She cried hoarsely aloud. "Once more oh, answer me! Tell me my name!" Ed's steps were heard on the oilclothed portion of the staircase. "My name oh, my name!" she cried in an agony of suspense.... "Oh, they will not wait for me! They have lighted the torches they run up and down the shore with torches oh, cannot you see me?..."
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