Author: Herbert Henry William 1807-1858
Publisher: Hardpress Publishing
Published: 2013-01-28
Total Pages: 438
ISBN-13: 9781313573702
DOWNLOAD EBOOK →Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.
Author: Henry William 1807-1858 Herbert
Publisher: Wentworth Press
Published: 2016-08-29
Total Pages: 440
ISBN-13: 9781373396952
DOWNLOAD EBOOK →This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work. This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work. As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.
Author: Frank Forester
Publisher:
Published: 2018-05-03
Total Pages: 201
ISBN-13: 9781980997214
DOWNLOAD EBOOK →The son of Godwin was the flower of the whole Saxon race. The jealousies which had disturbed the mind of Edward the Confessor had long since passed away; and Harold, whom he once had looked upon with eyes of personal aversion, he now regarded almost as his own son. Yet still the Saxon hostages--Ulfnoth, and the young son of Swerga, who in the time of his mad predilection for the Normans, and his unnatural distrust of his own countrymen, had been delivered for safe keeping to William, duke of Normandy--still lingered, melancholy exiles, far from the white cliffs of their native land. And now, for the first time since their departure, did the aspect of affairs appear propitious for their liberation; and Harold, brother of one, and uncle of the other, full of proud confidence in his own intellect and valor, applied to Edward for permission that he might cross the English channel, and, personally visiting the Norman, bring back the hostages in honor and security to the dear land of their forefathers. The countenance of the Confessor fell at the request; and, conscious probably in his own heart of some rash promise made in days long past, and long repented, to the ambitious William, he manifested a degree of agitation amounting almost to alarm."Harold," he said, after a long pause of deliberation--"Harold, my son, since you have made me this request, and that your noble heart seems set on its accomplishment, it shall not be my part to do constraint or violence to your affectionate and patriotic wishes. Go, then, if such be your resolve, but go without my leave, and contrary to my advice. It is not that I would not have your brother and your kinsman home, but that I do distrust the means of their deliverance; and sure I am, that should you go in person, some terrible disaster shall befall ourselves and this our country. Well do I know Duke William; well do I know his spirit--brave, crafty, daring, deep, ambitious, and designing. You, too, he hates especially, nor will he grant you anything, save at a price that shall draw down an overwhelming ruin on you who pay it, and on the throne of which you are the glory and the stay. If we would have these hostages delivered at a less ransom than the downfall of our Saxon dynasty--the misery of merry England--another messenger than thou must seek the wily Norman. Be it, however, as thou wilt, my friend, my kinsman, and my son."Oh, sage advice, and admirable counsel! advice how fatally neglected--counsel how sadly frustrated! Gallant, and brave, and young; fraught with a noble sense of his own powers, a full reliance on his own honorable purposes; untaught as yet in that, the hardest lesson of the world's hardest school, distrust of others, suspicion of all men--Harold set forth upon his journey, as it were, on an excursion in pursuit of pleasure. Surrounded by a train of blithe companions, gallantly mounted, gorgeously attired, with falcon upon fist, and greyhounds bounding by his side, gayly and merrily he started, on a serene autumnal morning, for the coast of Sussex. There he took ship; and scarcely was he out of sight of land, when, as it were at once to justify the words of Edward, the wind, which had been on his embarkation the fairest that could blow from heaven, suddenly shifted round, the sky was overcast with vast clouds of a leaden hue, the waves tossed wildly with an ominous and hollow murmur; and, ere the first day had elapsed, as fierce a tempest burst upon his laboring barks as ever baffled mariner among the perilous shoals and sandbanks of the narrow seas.
Author: Henry William Herbert
Publisher:
Published: 2015-07-11
Total Pages: 430
ISBN-13: 9781331202332
DOWNLOAD EBOOK →Excerpt from The Knights of England, France, and Scotland "My tongue hath sworn, but still my mind is free." The son of Godwin was the flower of the whole Saxon race. The jealousies which had disturbed the mind of Edward the Confessor had long since passed away; and Harold, whom he once had looked upon with eyes of personal aversion, he now regarded almost as his own son. Yet still the Saxon hostages - Ulfnoth, and the young son of Swerga, who in the time of his mad predilection for the Normans, and his unnatural distrust of his own countrymen, had been delivered for safe keeping to William, duke of Normandy - still lingered, melancholy exiles, far from the white cliffs of their native land. And now, for the first time since their departure, did the aspect of affairs appear propitious for their liberation; and Harold, brother of one, and uncle of the other, full of proud confidence in his own intellect and valor, applied to Edward for permission that he might cross the English channel, and, personally visiting the Norman, bring back the hostages in honor and security to the dear land of their forefathers. The countenance of the Confessor fell at the request; and, conscious probably in his own heart of some rash promise made in days long past, and long repented, to the ambitious William, he manifested a degree of agitation amounting almost to alarm. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
Author: Henry Herbert
Publisher:
Published: 2018-05-02
Total Pages: 201
ISBN-13: 9781980995296
DOWNLOAD EBOOK →"He must cross, Tyrrel, he must cross here," cried the excited monarch; "ay, bythe life of Him who made us--and that before we be ten minutes older. I will takestand even here, where I command both alleys: ride thou some fifty yards or so, tothe right; stand by yon rowan sapling. And mark me--see'st thou yon scathed butgiant oak?--Now, if he pass on this side, mine is the first shot; if on the other, thine.I will not balk thy fortunes; meddle not thou with mine!"They parted--the king sitting like a statue on his well-trained but fieryAndalusian, the rein thrown loosely on the horse's neck, and the bow already halfbent in the vigorous right hand; the baron riding, as he had been commanded,down the neglected avenue, till he had reached the designated tree, when hewheeled round his courser and remained likewise motionless, facing the king, atthat brief interval.Nearer and nearer came the baying of the pack, while ever and anon a sharpand savage treble, mixed with the deeper notes, gave token to the skilful forestersthat they were running with the game in view. Nearer it came, and nearer; and nowit was so close, that not an echo could be traced amid the stormy music: but withthe crash no human shout was blended, no bugle lent its thrilling voice to the blitheuproar, no clang of hoofs announced the presence of pursuers. All, even the bestand boldest riders, saving those two who waited there in calm, deliberateimpatience, had long been foiled by the quick turns and undiminished pacemaintained by the stout quarry.The crashing of the branches might now be heard distinctly, as they wereseparated by some body in swift motion; and next the laboring sobs of a beastoverdone with toil and anguish; the waving of the coppice followed in a long,sinuous line, resembling in some degree the wake of a fleet ship among the rollingbillows. Midway it furrowed the dense thicket between the king and Tyrrel, but withan inclination toward the former. His quick eye noted his advantage: his bow roseslowly and with a steady motion to its level; it was drawn to its full extent--theforked steel head pressing against the polished yew, the silken string stretchedhome to the right ear. The brambles were forced violently outward, and with amighty but laborious effort the hunted stag dashed into the more open space.Scarcely had he cleared the thicket, before a sharp and ringing twang announcedthe shot of Rufus. So true had been his aim, that the barbed arrow grazed thewithers of the game--a hart of grease, with ten tines on his noble antlers--leavinga gory line where it had razed the skin; and so strong was the arm that launched it,that the shaft, glancing downward, owing to the king's elevation and the shortdistance of the mark at which he aimed, was buried nearly to the feathers in thesoft, mossy greensward. The wounded stag bounded at least six feet into the air;and Tyrrel, deeming the work already done, lowered his weapon. But the king'ssight was truer. Raising his bridle-hand to screen his eyes from the rays, nownearly level, of the setting sun--"Ho!" he cried, "Tyrrel, shoot--in the fiend's nameshoot!"Before the words had reached his ear, the baron saw his error; for, instantlyrecovering, the gallant deer dashed onward, passing immediately beneath the oaktreewhich Rufus had already mentioned.