now stately and dignified, now beautiful and varied as the hues of the rainbow; again compact, even rugged in sinewy strength, or lofty and grand in eloquent declamation.
His face and manner were alike uncommon.
The turn of his head was like Byron's; the face and the action were just what the mind made them.
The excitement of the features, the motions of the head and body, the gesticulation he used, were all in absolute harmony with the words you heard.
You saw and took cognizance of thees, could so soon be overcast, and express such intense bitterness, seemed a marvel.
But bitterness and angry passions were probably, as strongly implanted in him as any other sentiments or qualities.
There was much about him to remind you of Byron—the cast of the head, the classic features, the fiery and restive nature, the moral and personal daring, the imaginative and poetical temperament, the scorn and deep passion, the deformity of which I have spoken, the satiric wit, the craving for