Philip Van Artevelde: A Dramatic Romance. In Two Parts, Issue 73

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E. Moxon, 1852 - Flanders - 431 pages
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Page xvi - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Page 29 - He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that. 'Tis an ill cure For life's worst ills, to have no time to feel them. Where sorrow's held intrusive and turned out, There wisdom will not enter, nor true power, Nor aught that dignifies humanity.
Page 29 - Who wins the race of glory, but than him A thousand men more gloriously endowed Have fallen upon the course ; a thousand others Have had their fortunes foundered by a chance, Whilst lighter barks...
Page 1 - ... no navigation nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea, no commodious building, no instruments of moving and removing such things as require much force, no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time, no arts, no letters, no society, and, which is worst of all, continual fear and danger of violent death, and the life of man solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
Page 122 - There lies a sleeping city, God of dreams ! What an unreal and fantastic world Is going on below ! Within the sweep of yon encircling wall How many a large creation of the night, Wide wilderness and mountain, rock and sea, Peopled with busy, transitory groups, Finds room to rise, and never feels the crowd.
Page 368 - And I perceived the river and the bridge, The mottled sky and horizontal moon, The distant camp, and all things as they were. Elena. If you are not afraid to see such things, I am to hear them. Go not near that bridge ; — You said that something happened there before — Oh, cross it not again. Artevelde. Not cross the bridge ? The river cannot otherwise be passed.
Page 39 - tis ignoble to have led my life In idle meditations — that the times Demand me, echoing my father's name ? Oh ! what a fiery heart was his ! such souls Whose sudden visitations daze the world, Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind A voice that in the distance far away Wakens the slumbering ages. Oh ! my father ! Thy life is eloquent, and more persuades Unto dominion than thy death deters ; For that reminds me of a debt of blood Descended with my patrimony to me, Whose paying off would clear...
Page 29 - Whose story is a fragment, known to few. Then comes the man who has the luck to live, And he's a prodigy. Compute the chances, And deem there's ne'er a one in dangerous times Who wins the race of glory, but than him A thousand men more gloriously endowed Have fallen upon the course...
Page 232 - Ordered the common weal ; where great men grew Up to their natural eminence, and none Saving the wise, just, eloquent, were great ; Where power was of God's gift, to whom he gave Supremacy of merit, the sole means And broad highway to power, that ever then Was meritoriously administer'd, Whilst all its instruments from first to last, The tools of state for service high or low, Were chosen for their aptness to those ends Which virtue meditates.
Page 423 - Yet they do leave us. You behold me here, A man bereaved, with something of a blight Upon the early blossoms of his life, And its first verdure — having not the...

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