From eb70e6e3d0bff11c25f14b1196025791bf2308fb Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: "Matt A. Tobin" Date: Tue, 25 Feb 2020 15:07:00 -0500 Subject: Issue #439 - Remove tests from toolkit/ --- .../modules/tests/browser/file_FinderSample.html | 824 --------------------- 1 file changed, 824 deletions(-) delete mode 100644 toolkit/modules/tests/browser/file_FinderSample.html (limited to 'toolkit/modules/tests/browser/file_FinderSample.html') diff --git a/toolkit/modules/tests/browser/file_FinderSample.html b/toolkit/modules/tests/browser/file_FinderSample.html deleted file mode 100644 index e952d1fe9..000000000 --- a/toolkit/modules/tests/browser/file_FinderSample.html +++ /dev/null @@ -1,824 +0,0 @@ - - - - Childe Roland - - -

"Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came"

Robert Browning

- -

My first thought was, he lied in every word, -

That hoary cripple, with malicious eye

Askance to watch the working of his lie

- -

On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford

Suppression of the glee that pursed and scored -

Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.

- -

II.

- -

What else should he be set for, with his staff? -

What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare

All travellers who might find him posted there,

- -

And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh

Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph -

For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,

- -

III.

- -

If at his counsel I should turn aside -

Into that ominous tract which, all agree,

Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly

- -

I did turn as he pointed: neither pride

Nor hope rekindling at the end descried, -

So much as gladness that some end might be.

- -

IV.

- -

For, what with my whole world-wide wandering, -

What with my search drawn out thro' years, my hope

Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope

- -

With that obstreperous joy success would bring,

I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring -

My heart made, finding failure in its scope.

- -

As when a sick man very near to death -

Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end

The tears and takes the farewell of each friend,

- -

And hears one bid the other go, draw breath

Freelier outside ("since all is o'er," he saith, -

"And the blow fallen no grieving can amend;")

- -

VI.

- -

While some discuss if near the other graves -

Be room enough for this, and when a day

Suits best for carrying the corpse away,

- -

With care about the banners, scarves and staves:

And still the man hears all, and only craves -

He may not shame such tender love and stay.

- -

VII.

- -

Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest, -

Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ

So many times among "The Band" - to wit,

- -

The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressed

Their steps - that just to fail as they, seemed best, -

And all the doubt was now—should I be fit?

- -

VIII.

- -

So, quiet as despair, I turned from him, -

That hateful cripple, out of his highway

Into the path he pointed. All the day

- -

Had been a dreary one at best, and dim

Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim -

Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.

- -

IX.

- -

For mark! no sooner was I fairly found -

Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,

Than, pausing to throw backward a last view

- -

O'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round:

Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound. -

I might go on; nought else remained to do.

- -

So, on I went. I think I never saw -

Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:

For flowers - as well expect a cedar grove!

- -

But cockle, spurge, according to their law

Might propagate their kind, with none to awe, -

You'd think; a burr had been a treasure trove.

- -

XI.

- -

No! penury, inertness and grimace, -

In some strange sort, were the land's portion. "See

Or shut your eyes," said Nature peevishly,

- -

"It nothing skills: I cannot help my case:

'Tis the Last Judgment's fire must cure this place, -

Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free."

- -

XII.

- -

If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk -

Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents

Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents

- -

In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk

All hope of greenness? 'tis a brute must walk -

Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents.

- -

XIII.

- -

As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair -

In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud

Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood.

- -

One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,

Stood stupefied, however he came there: -

Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!

- -

XIV.

- -

Alive? he might be dead for aught I know, -

With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain,

And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane;

- -

Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe;

I never saw a brute I hated so; -

He must be wicked to deserve such pain.

- -

XV.

- -

I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart. -

As a man calls for wine before he fights,

I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,

- -

Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.

Think first, fight afterwards - the soldier's art: -

One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

- -

XVI.

- -

Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face -

Beneath its garniture of curly gold,

Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold

- -

An arm in mine to fix me to the place

That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace! -

Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold.

- -

XVII.

- -

Giles then, the soul of honour - there he stands -

Frank as ten years ago when knighted first.

What honest men should dare (he said) he durst.

- -

Good - but the scene shifts - faugh! what hangman hands

Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands -

Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst!

- -

XVIII.

- -

Better this present than a past like that; -

Back therefore to my darkening path again!

No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain.

- -

Will the night send a howlet or a bat?

I asked: when something on the dismal flat -

Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train.

- -

XIX.

- -

A sudden little river crossed my path -

As unexpected as a serpent comes.

No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms;

- -

This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath

For the fiend's glowing hoof - to see the wrath -

Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes.

- -

XX.

- -

So petty yet so spiteful! All along -

Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it;

Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit

- -

Of mute despair, a suicidal throng:

The river which had done them all the wrong, -

Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit.

- -

XXI.

- -

Which, while I forded, - good saints, how I feared -

To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek,

Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek

- -

For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard!

—It may have been a water-rat I speared, -

But, ugh! it sounded like a baby's shriek.

- -

XXII.

- -

Glad was I when I reached the other bank. -

Now for a better country. Vain presage!

Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage,

- -

Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank

Soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank, -

Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage—

- -

XXIII.

- -

The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque. -

What penned them there, with all the plain to choose?

No foot-print leading to that horrid mews,

- -

None out of it. Mad brewage set to work

Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk -

Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.

- -

XXIV.

- -

And more than that - a furlong on - why, there! -

What bad use was that engine for, that wheel,

Or brake, not wheel - that harrow fit to reel

- -

Men's bodies out like silk? with all the air

Of Tophet's tool, on earth left unaware, -

Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel.

- -

XXV.

- -

Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood, -

Next a marsh, it would seem, and now mere earth

Desperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth,

- -

Makes a thing and then mars it, till his mood

Changes and off he goes!) within a rood— -

Bog, clay and rubble, sand and stark black dearth.

- -

XXVI.

- -

Now blotches rankling, coloured gay and grim, -

Now patches where some leanness of the soil's

Broke into moss or substances like boils;

- -

Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him

Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim -

Gaping at death, and dies while it recoils.

- -

XXVII.

- -

And just as far as ever from the end! -

Nought in the distance but the evening, nought

To point my footstep further! At the thought,

- -

A great black bird, Apollyon's bosom-friend,

Sailed past, nor beat his wide wing dragon-penned -

That brushed my cap—perchance the guide I sought.

- -

XXVIII.

- -

For, looking up, aware I somehow grew, -

'Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place

All round to mountains - with such name to grace

- -

Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view.

How thus they had surprised me, - solve it, you! -

How to get from them was no clearer case.

- -

XXIX.

- -

Yet half I seemed to recognise some trick -

Of mischief happened to me, God knows when—

In a bad dream perhaps. Here ended, then,

- -

Progress this way. When, in the very nick

Of giving up, one time more, came a click -

As when a trap shuts - you're inside the den!

- -

XXX.

- -

Burningly it came on me all at once, -

This was the place! those two hills on the right,

Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight;

- -

While to the left, a tall scalped mountain... Dunce,

Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce, -

After a life spent training for the sight!

- -

XXXI.

- -

What in the midst lay but the Tower itself? -

The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart

Built of brown stone, without a counterpart

- -

In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf

Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf -

He strikes on, only when the timbers start.

- -

XXXII.

- -

Not see? because of night perhaps? - why, day -

Came back again for that! before it left,

The dying sunset kindled through a cleft:

- -

The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay

Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay,— -

"Now stab and end the creature - to the heft!"

- -

XXXIII.

- -

Not hear? when noise was everywhere! it tolled -

Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears

Of all the lost adventurers my peers,—

- -

How such a one was strong, and such was bold,

And such was fortunate, yet each of old -

Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

- -

XXXIV.

- -

There they stood, ranged along the hillsides, met -

To view the last of me, a living frame

For one more picture! in a sheet of flame

- -

I saw them and I knew them all. And yet

Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set, -

And blew "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came."

- -

- - - -- cgit v1.2.3