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standing stifly erect was of a withered red. Sir Gawen felt his blood freeze within him, his limbs forgot to move, the face, enlarging, as it came, drew near; and swooning he fell forward on the ground.
Slow passed the vital fluid through the bosom of Sir Gawen, scarce did the heart vibrate to its impulse; on his pallid forehead sat a chilly sweat, and frequent spasms shook his limbs; but at length returning warmth gave some vigour to his frame the energy of life became more suffused, a soothing langour stole upon him, and on opening his eyes rushed neither the images of death or the rites of witchcraft, but the soft the sweet and tranquil scenery of a summer’s moon-light night. Enraptured with this sudden and unexpected change, Sir Gawen rose gently from off the ground, over
his head towered a large and majestic
