Dramas and Poems of Edward Bulwer Lytton (Lord Lytton).

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Page 57 - Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape ! I saw thee ! and the passionate heart of man Entered the breast of the wild-dreaming boy ; And from that hour I grew — what to the last I shall be — thine adorer ! Well ! this love, Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became A fountain of ambition and bright hope : I thought of tales that by the winter hearth Old gossips tell — how maidens, sprung from kings, Have stooped from their high sphere : how Love, like Death, Levels all ranks, and lays...
Page 160 - The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold The arch-enchanter's wand! — itself a nothing! But taking sorcery from the master hand To paralyse the Caesars — and to strike The loud earth breathless! — Take away the sword; States can be saved without it!
Page 218 - Of that high throne — spurn you the greyhair'd man, Who gave you empire — and now sues for safety? Louis. No: — when we see your Eminence in truth At the foot of the throne — we'll listen to you.
Page 223 - JOSEPH. The King is chafed Against his servant. Lady, while we speak, The lackey of the anteroom is not More powerless than the Minister of France.
Page 179 - Could I recall the past — or had not set The prodigal treasures of the bankrupt soul In one slight bark upon the shoreless sea; The yoked steer, after his day of toil, Forgets the goad, and rests — to me alike Or day or night — Ambition has no rest ! Shall I resign ? — who can resign himself...
Page 314 - That fable hath but fooled the hour ; Each age that ripens power in man But subjects man to power. Yet every day in seven, at least, One bright republic shall be known ; Man's world awhile hath surely ceased, When God proclaims his own ! Six days may rank divide the poor, O Dives, from thy banquet-hall ; The seventh the Father opes the door, And holds his feast for all ! PRANCES ANNE KEMBLE.
Page 359 - I contemplate you both ; the man there — the gold here ! Now, there is many a man in those streets honest as you are, who moves, thinks, feels and reasons as well as we do ; excellent in form — imperishable in soul ; who, if his pockets were three days empty, would sell thought, reason, body, and soul too, for that little coin ! Is that the fault of the man ? — no ! it is the fault of mankind ? God made man ; behold what mankind have made a god ! When I was poor, I hated the world ; now I am...
Page 40 - Even then, Methinks thou wouldst be only made more dear By the sweet thought that I could prove how deep Is woman's love! We are like the insects, caught By the poor glittering of a garish flame; But, oh, the wings once scorch'd, the brightest star Lures us no more; and by the fatal light We cling till death! Mel. Angel! [Aside.] O conscience! conscience!
Page 227 - Burst forth to curb the great, and raise the low. Mark, where she stands, around her form I draw The awful circle of our solemn Church! Set but a foot within that holy ground, And on thy head — yea, though it wore a crown — I launch the curse of Rome!
Page 341 - Returning, he proclaims by many a grace, By shrugs and strange contortions of his face, How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, Excels a dunce that has been kept at home.

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