In many of the slighter descriptive passages, we recognize
the poet by those minute touches, which a mind susceptible of poetic
feeling is alone capable of bringing out. The approach of the emperor,
while the conspirators are caballing, is announced by Orchan, with
these picturesque circumstances:
I see the blaze of torches from afar,
And hear the trampling of thick-beating feet--
This way they move.--
The following account, given by the slave sent to observe what passed
in the castle of Dorax, believed to be dead, or dying, is equally
striking:
_Haly._ Two hours I warily have watched his palace:
All doors are shut, no servant peeps abroad;
Some officers, with striding haste, past in;
While others outward went on quick dispatch.
Sometimes hushed silence seemed to reign within;
Then cries confused, and a joint clamour followed;
Then lights went gliding by, from room to room,
And shot like thwarting meteors cross the house.
Not daring further to inquire, I came
With speed to bring you this imperfect news.
The description of the midnight insurrection of the rabble is not less
impressive:
_Ham._ What you wish:
The streets are thicker in this noon of night,
Than at the mid-day sun: A drouzy horror
Sits on their eyes, like fear, not well awake:
All crowd in heaps, as, at a night alarm,
The bees drive out upon each others backs,
T'imboss their hives in clusters; all ask news:
Their busy captain runs the weary round
To whisper orders; and, commanding silence,
Makes not noise cease, but deafens it to murmurs.
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