I have sworn
that the blood which stains and darkens it, shall be washed off in the
blood of the people of Rome. Though I should perish under those
accursed walls; though you in your soulless patience should refuse me
protection and aid; I, widowed, weakened, forsaken as I am, will hold to
the fulfilment of my oath!'
As she ceased she folded the crest in her mantle, and turned abruptly
from Hermanric in bitter and undissembled scorn. All the attributes of
her sex, in thought, expression, and manner, seemed to have deserted
her. The very tones she spoke in were harsh and unwomanly.
Every word she had uttered, every action she had displayed, had sunk
into the inmost heart, had stirred the fiercest passions of the young
warrior whom she addressed. The first national sentiment discoverable
in the day-spring of the ages of Gothic history, is the love of war; but
the second is the reverence of woman. This latter feeling--especially
remarkable among so fierce and unsusceptible a people as the ancient
Scandinavians--was entirely unconnected with those strong attaching
ties, which are the natural consequence of the warm temperaments of more
southern nations; for love was numbered with the base inferior passions,
in the frigid and hardy composition of the warrior of the north.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289