The little couch on which he slept when he was in camp was spread for him in the antechamber; but he scarcely lay down on it.

The sight of his misery, the Dutch Envoy wrote, was enough to melt the hardest heart.
Nothing seemed to be left of the man whose serene fortitude had been the wonder of old soldiers on the disastrous day of Landen, and of old sailors on that fearful night among the sheets of ice and banks of sand on the coast of Goree.

The very domestics saw the tears running unchecked down that face, of which the stern composure had seldom been disturbed by any triumph or by any defeat.

Several of the prelates were in attendance.

The King drew Burnet aside, and gave way to an agony of grief.