Don Sebastian : $b or, The house of the Braganza: An historical romance. vol. 1 — John Shaqi
Don Sebastian : $b or, The house of the Braganza: An historical romance. vol. 1Porter, Anna Maria
General
Don Sebastian : $b or, The house of the Braganza: An historical romance. vol. 1
Porter, Anna Maria
Sebastião, King of Portugal, 1554-1578 -- Fiction
After a little good-humoured raillery, Antonio prepared to set out for
Lisbon, and the King, without suffering any one to attend him, mounted
a horse and rode forth.
His spirit was disturbed by that prevalent anxiety for his marriage,
which his ministry had urged in support of their late proposal; and it
was saddened by the small prospect there was, of his being speedily
able to realize the darling wish that had grown with his growth, and
strengthened with his strength. Disinterested as he firmly believed
himself, and purely actuated by zeal for the holy faith, yet he
could not conceal from his own conscience, that a boundless ambition
of fame, had its share in regretting the delay of his purposed
expedition: the enfeebled state of his dominions had prevented him
from contributing any assistance to the grand coalition then forming
against the Turks--and the splendid success of that coalition, deepened
his chagrin. The victory of Lepanto haunted his nightly dreams; he
secretly repined at the thick laurels of Don John of Austria; painfully
contrasting that young admiral’s achievements, with his own blighted
and withering hopes.
Wearied with thought and motion, Sebastian threw himself off his horse
in a solitary spot surrounded by hills, and suffering him to graze at
will, cast himself along under a shade of cork trees; there he mused
over ten thousand new prospects of vain and impracticable enterprize.
The sultry air was cooled and perfumed by the breathing of aromatic
plants, kept in all the greenness of spring, by several rills which
trickled almost unseen beneath them; not a breeze stirred the leaves
of the cork trees, and the very birds were silent: the only sound to
be heard throughout the valley, was the lulling murmur of bees coming
to feed upon the flowers. A steady heat glowed in the air: Sebastian
cast aside his mantle and his hat, and pushed away the hair from his
forehead; all the summer burned upon his cheek, but a hotter fire, the
fever of impatience was in his heart.--By degrees the enervating warmth
overpowered him, and he sunk into sleep.
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