relentless delight, it brewed the tempest, and hurled the destructive
lightning. Edwin gazed upon this astonishing apparition, and knew it for
a goblin of darkness. The heart of Edwin, which no human terror could
appal, sunk within him; his nerves trembled, and the objects that
surrounded him, swam in confusion before his eyes. But it is not for
virtue to tremble; it is not for conscious innocence to fear the power
of elves and goblins. Edwin presently recollected himself, and a gloomy
kind of tranquility assumed the empire of his heart. He was more
watchful than ever for his beloved Imogen; he gazed with threefold
earnestness upon the fearful spectre.

A sound now invaded his ear, from the shapeless rocks behind him. They
repeated it with all their echoes. It was hollow as the raging wind; and
yet it was not the raging wind. It was loud as the roaring thunder; and
yet it was not the voice of thunder. But he did not remain long in
suspense, from whence the voice proceeded. A wolf, whom hunger had made
superior to fear, leaped from the rock, upon the plain below. Edwin
turned his eyes upon the horrid monster; he grasped his boarspear in his
hand. The unconscious Imogen glided from his arms, and he advanced
before her. He met the savage in his fury, and plunged his weapon in his
side. He overturned the monster; he drew forth his lance reeking with
his blood; his enemy lay convulsed in the agonies of death. But ere he
could return, he heard the sound of a car rattling along the plain. The
reins were of silk, and the chariot shone with burnished gold. Upon the
top of it sat a man, tall, lusty, and youthful. His hair flowed about
his shoulders, his eyes sparkled with untamed fierceness, and his brow
was marked with the haughty insolence of pride. It was Roderic, lord of
a hundred hills; but Edwin knew him not. The goblin descended from its
eminence, and directed the course of Roderic. In a moment, he seized the
breathless and insensible Imogen, and lifted her to his car. Edwin