the bounty of Heaven. If the sublime and disinterested rectitude that
produces and rewards itself, dwells indeed with man, it dwelt not with
ALMORAN: with respect to God, therefore, he was not impressed with a
sense either of duty or dependence; he felt neither reverence nor love,
gratitude nor resignation: in abstaining from evil, he was not
intentionally good; he practised the externals of morality without
virtue, and performed the rituals of devotion without piety.

Such were ALMORAN and HAMET, when Solyman their father, full of days and
full of honour, slept in peace the sleep of death. With this event they
were immediately acquainted. The emotions of ALMORAN were such as it was
impossible to conceal: the joy that he felt in secret was so great, that
the mere dread of disappointment for a moment suspended his belief of
what he heard: when his fears and his doubts gave way, his cheeks were
suffused with sudden blushes, and his eyes sparkled with exultation and
impatience: he looked eagerly about him, as if in haste to act; yet his
looks were embarrassed, and his gestures irresolute, because he knew
not what to do: he uttered some incoherent sentences, which discovered
at once the joy that he felt, and his sense of its impropriety; and his
whole deportment expressed the utmost tumult and perturbation of mind.

Upon HAMET, the death of his father produced a very different effect: as
soon as he heard it, his lips trembled and his countenance grew pale; he
flood motionless a moment, like a pilgrim transfixed by lightning in the
desert; he then smote his breast, and looking upward, his eyes by
degrees overflowed with tears, and they fell, like dew distilling from
the mountain, in a calm and silent shower. As his grief was thus mingled
with devotion, his mind in a short time recovered its tranquillity,
though not its chearfulness, and he desired to be conducted to his
brother.