But oh, who can paint the distress
of Evelina? Now she dropped her head, like the tender lily whose stalk,
by some vulgar and careless hand has been broken; and now she was wild
and ungovernable, like the wild beast that has been robbed of its young.
For an instant the venerable name of religion awed her into mute
submission. But when the fatal moment approached, not the Gods, if the
Gods had descended in all their radiant brightness, could have
restrained her any longer. The air was rent with her piercing cries. She
spoke not. Her eyes, in silence turned towards heaven, distilled a
plenteous shower. At length, swifter than the winged hawk, she flew
towards the spot, and seized the sacred and inviolable arm of the holy
Druid, which was lifted up to strike the final blow. "Barbarous and
inhuman priest," she cried, "cease your vile and impious mummery! No
longer insult us with the name of Gods. If there be Gods, they are
merciful; but thou art a savage and unrelenting monster. Or if some
victim must expire, strike here, and I will thank thee. Strike, and my
bosom shall heave to meet the welcome blow. Do any thing. But oh, spare
me the killing, killing spectacle!" During this action the maidens
approached and hurried her from the plain.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45