Imagination cannot conceive a scene more dreadful than that presented by the devoted city of Antioch on that night of horror. The Crusaders fought with a blind fury, which fanaticism and suffering alike incited. Men, women, and children were indiscriminately slaughtered, till the streets ran in gore. Darkness increased the destruction; for, when the morning dawned the Crusaders found themselves with their swords at the breasts of their fellow-soldiers, whom they had mistaken to be foes. The Turkish commander fled, first to the citadel, and, that becoming insecure, to the mountains, whither he was pursued and slain, and his gory head brought back to Antioch as a trophy. At daylight the massacre ceased, and the Crusaders gave themselves up to plunder.
Go, take thine angle, and with practised line, Light as the gossamer, the current sweep; And if thou failest in the calm, still deep, In the rough eddy may a prize be thine. Say thou'rt unlucky where the sunbeams shine; Beneath the shadow where the waters creep Perchance the monarch of the brook shall leap-- For Fate is ever better than Design. Still persevere; the giddiest breeze that blows For thee may blow with fame and fortune rife. Be prosperous; and what reck if it arose Out of some pebble with the stream at strife, Or that the light wind dallied with the boughs: Thou art successful--such is human life.
Mariana in the moated grange.--_Measure for Measure_.
With blackest moss the flower-plots Were thickly crusted, one and all; The rusted nails fell from the knots That held the peach to the garden wall. The broken sheds look'd sad and strange-- Uplifted was the clinking latch, Weeded and worn the ancient thatch, Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, "My life is dreary-- He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, weary, I would that I were dead!"
Her tears fell with the dews at even-- Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew her casement-curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, "The night is dreary-- He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, weary, I would that I were dead!"