The Eve of All-Hallows; Or, Adelaide of Tyrconnel, v. 3 of 3 — John Shaqi
The Eve of All-Hallows; Or, Adelaide of Tyrconnel, v. 3 of 3Hartstonge, Matthew Weld
General
The Eve of All-Hallows; Or, Adelaide of Tyrconnel, v. 3 of 3
Hartstonge, Matthew Weld
Fiction
The moon occasionally at intervals, as the stormy night-clouds cleared
away, streamed her radiance on the rippling bosom of the undulating
wave, which threw a brilliant line of light across the heaving billows;
and showed to those who might wish to observe the progress of the
fugitives, that in sooth they made but little way; which was not to be
wondered at, considering how incautiously crowded the boat had been
through the obstinacy of the too inconsiderate followers. Another
danger, superadded to the former, it but too fully appeared to the crew
arose from the frailty of the bark itself, that had soon to contend
with the approach, or rather with the return, of the tempest.
The impressive scene that we have attempted to describe, was, it must
be allowed, altogether out of the usual course of ordinary events,
and partook of a high and extraordinary degree of interest. To behold
a wild, desolate, and romantic shore, lined and occupied as it had
been, at such an hour, by a military band of pursuers, and illuminated
by the blazing fires, which broadly glanced on spear, axe, target,
and claymore; whose ruddy contrasting light served but to cause that
the dark impending rocks above, and the indented caverns below,
should appear more savage, and their dense darkness the more visible!
Meanwhile, to witness the dumb, but expressive gesticulation of the
heads and hands, and indignant and angry step, of the enraged vassals
on the beach, appearing to the distant beholder all of a deep, glaring,
fiery red, fierce as the impetuous motives which led them onward to the
bloody track. Rage, and all the varied manifestations of the fierce
passions of wrath and revenge, were but too visible, from the broad and
brilliant glare of light that flashed upon them. It was such a scene as
would have charmed the creative imagination of Michael Angelo to have
dwelt upon and portrayed, and might have even given additional sketches
of horror for his "Day of Judgment." And, oh! how would the poetic
pencil of the solitary Salvator Rosa have managed this scene!--how his
pencil would have sported with it, and his genius have rejoiced!--here
he might have conjured up and enlivened his landscape with a bold,
determined, band of pirates, soldiers, or banditti, surrounded by
dark and frowning precipices. For such was the wild and savage scene
so lately before the reader's eye. Rocks frowning in deep darkness,
indented with frequent hollow caverns below, the midnight retreat of
the otter and porpoise; while from the higher caverned cliffs above,
awakened and aroused from their quarry, sprung forth the osprey, the
vulture, and cormorant, all loudly screaming, and joining in one
continued dissonant chorus, deeming that the returning morn had arrived!
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