Leila or, the Siege of Granada, Book II. by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton
page 41 of 63 (65%)
page 41 of 63 (65%)
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upon matters of common and earthly import, or solid learning, Boabdil
could contend with sages, upon those of superstition he could be fooled by a child. He was, in this, a kind of Hamlet: formed, under prosperous and serene fortunes, to render blessings and reap renown; but over whom the chilling shadow of another world had fallen--whose soul curdled back into itself--whose life had been separated from that of the herd--whom doubts and awe drew back, while circumstances impelled onward--whom a supernatural doom invested with a peculiar philosophy, not of human effect and cause--and who, with every gift that could ennoble and adorn, was suddenly palsied into that mortal imbecility, which is almost ever the result of mortal visitings into the haunted regions of the Ghostly and Unknown. The gloomier colourings of his mind had been deepened, too, by secret remorse. For the preservation of his own life, constantly threatened by his unnatural predecessor, he had been early driven into rebellion against his father. In age, infirmity, and blindness, that fierce king had been made a prisoner at Salobrena by his brother, El Zagal, Boabdil's partner in rebellion; and dying suddenly, El Zagal was suspected of his murder. Though Boabdil was innocent of such a crime, he felt himself guilty of the causes which led to it; and a dark memory, resting upon his conscience, served to augment his superstition and enervate the vigour of his resolves; for, of all things that make men dreamers, none is so effectual as remorse operating upon a thoughtful temperament. Revolving the character of his sovereign, and sadly foreboding the ruin of his country, the young hero of Granada pursued his way, until his steps, almost unconsciously, led him towards the abode of Leila. He scaled the walls of the garden as before--he neared the house. All was silent and deserted; his signal was unanswered--his murmured song brought no grateful light to the lattice, no fairy footstep to the balcony. |
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