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(like a drinker who cannot trust himself to drink only in moderation)
Starting a rebellion in the Spanish-American colonies had long been a dream of the British government—a
“The Lay of the Last Minstrel”
Gibbon, whose Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire
every captain of a King’s ship took his men into action with full bellies if possible.
All through the night he had been trying to forget the problem of Lady Barbara, as a man tries to forget an aching tooth.
glimpses a man has of a beautiful woman during delirium.
And mad though most Spaniards were, they were not mad enough to offer violence to a British captain.
she won Hornblower’s grudging approval of an ungainly poem called “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” although he maintained sturdily, in the last ditch, that its only merit lay in its content, and that it would have been infinitely better had Pope dealt with the theme in heroic couplets—especially if Pope had been assisted by someone who knew more about navigation and seamanship than did this Coleridge fellow.
Hornblower dressed in tarpaulins and sou’wester, and she thought oddly, how well those hideous garments suited him.
He had been nearly a year cooped up in the Lydia now, and a year of unnatural living breeds strange fancies.
