“When he was angry, one of his eyes became so terrible, that no person could bear to behold it; and the wretch upon whom it was fixed, instantly fell backward, and sometimes expired. For fear, however, of depopulating his dominions, and making his palace desolate, he but rarely gave way to his anger.”

—  William Beckford , book Vathek

Quand il étoit en colère, un de ses yeux devenoit si terrible qu'on n'en pouvoit pas soutenir les regards: le malheureux sur lequel il le fixoit tomboit à la renverse, & quelquefois même expiroit à l'instant. Aussi, dans la crainte de dépeupler ses états, & de faire un désert de son palais, ce prince ne se mettoit en colère que très-rarement.
Source: Vathek, P. 3; translation p. 1.

Original

Quand il étoit en colère, un de ses yeux devenoit si terrible qu'on n'en pouvoit pas soutenir les regards: le malheureux sur lequel il le fixoit tomboit à la renverse, & quelquefois même expiroit à l'instant. Aussi, dans la crainte de dépeupler ses états, & de faire un désert de son palais, ce prince ne se mettoit en colère que très-rarement.

Vathek

Adopted from Wikiquote. Last update June 3, 2021. History

Help us to complete the source, original and additional information

Do you have more details about the quote "When he was angry, one of his eyes became so terrible, that no person could bear to behold it; and the wretch upon whom…" by William Beckford?
William Beckford photo
William Beckford 7
English novelist 1760–1844

Related quotes

Muhammad al-Baqir photo
Halldór Laxness photo
Lev Grossman photo
Clive Staples Lewis photo
Jeremy Taylor photo
Joseph Strutt photo
Gilbert Ryle photo
Eleanor Farjeon photo

“He could not be captured,
He could not be bought,
His running was rhythm,
His standing was thought;
With one eye on sorrow
And one eye on mirth,
He galloped in heaven
And gambolled on earth.”

Eleanor Farjeon (1881–1965) English children's writer

Pegasus, St. 3 & 4, p. 181
The New Book of Days (1961)
Context: He could not be captured,
He could not be bought,
His running was rhythm,
His standing was thought;
With one eye on sorrow
And one eye on mirth,
He galloped in heaven
And gambolled on earth. And only the poet
With wings to his brain
Can mount him and ride him
Without any rein,
The stallion of heaven,
The steed of the skies,
The horse of the singer
Who sings as he flies.

Patricia C. Wrede photo

Related topics