Gowrie; or, the King's Plot.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
Gowrie; or, the King's Plot.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Gowrie Conspiracy, 1600 -- Fiction
At length, however, after the scene had remained thus quiet for about
half an hour, a very young but very handsome man sauntered forth from
one of the smaller doors of the building, crossed the warm green in
front, turned to one of the old trees, stood for a moment under the
shade, and then walked languidly to another, near an opposite angle of
the palace. He seemed seeking a place for repose, but difficult to
please, for he again left that tree and strolled to its green
neighbour, where, stretching himself on the grass, he laid a book,
which he carried with him, open on the ground, and supporting his
head with his arm, gave himself up to thought. Oh, the thoughts of
youth--the gay, the whirling, dream-like thoughts of youth! How
pleasant is the visionary trance which boys and girls call meditation!
True, youth has its pains as well as pleasures, both eager, intense,
and thrilling; but it wants the fears and doubts of experience, that
bitterest fruit of long life. The cloud may hang over it for an hour,
but the breath of hope soon wafts it away, and it is not till the
storm comes down in its full fury that youth will believe there are
tempests in the sky.
There he lay and thought, with the branches waving gently over him,
and the chequered light and shade playing on his face and on the open
pages of the unread book beside him. The air was very sultry, even
beneath the shadow of the trees, and he untied the cord which confined
his silken vest at the neck, displaying a skin almost as fair as a
woman's, although exercise, it would seem, was not wanting to give a
browner hue; for even then he looked fatigued as well as heated, and
there was dust upon his hair and upon his dress, as if he had ridden
far and long that day. Weariness, and the hot summer air, with the
playing of the shadows over his face, seemed to render him sleepy. His
eyes looked heavy for a moment or two, the eyelids closed, opened
again, closed once more, and there he lay, sound, sound asleep, not
unlike what we may fancy was the shepherd boy of Latmus, when under
the influence of the fair queen of night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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