at that dread place, his sense suddenly seemed to return. He looked hastily round the throng that swayed and murmured below, and a faint flush rose to his cheek: he cast his eyes impatiently above, and breathed hard and convulsively. The dire preparations were made, completed; but the prisoner drew back for an instant—was it from mortal fear? He motioned to the Clergyman to approach, as if about to whisper some last request in his ear. The clergyman bowed his head,—there was a minute's awful pause—Aram seemed to struggle as for words, when, suddenly throwing himself back, a bright triumphant smile flashed over his whole face. With that smile, the haughty Spirit passed away, and the law's last indignity was wreaked upon a breathless corpse![1]
- ↑ I cannot dismiss the principal character of this tale without recommending the Reader forthwith to procure (if, indeed, he has not forestalled my recommendation) Mr. Hood's fine and striking poem of "Eugene Aram."—Mr. Hood might perhaps (at least such, I may be allowed to say, is my own impression) have formed a conception more true to nature, if he had described the stoical and dark character of the man, as rather attempting, now to refine away, now to bear up against, his guilt—than as yielding so entirely to remorse:—but no conception could have been more vigorously, more nobly executed;—the mens divinior breathes in every line.
