Paul Clifford, by the author of 'Pelham'. by sir E. Bulwer-Lytton [with an appendix entitled] Tomlinsoniana; or, The posthumous writings of A. Tomlinson [really by sir E. Bulwer-Lytton?].
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Page 121 - Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak, for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Page iv - Do you remember the summer days, which seemed to me so short, when you repeated to me those old ballads with which Percy revived the decaying spirit of our national muse, or the smooth couplets of Pope, or those gentle and polished verses with the composition of which you had beguiled your own earlier leisure...
Page 70 - Young, innocent, on whose sweet forehead mild The parted ringlet shone in simplest guise, An inmate in the home of Albert smiled, Or blest his noonday walk — she was his only child. The rose of England bloomed on Gertrude's cheek — What though these shades had seen her birth, her sire A.
Page iv - From your graceful and accomplished taste, I early learned that, affection for literature which has exercised so large an influence over the pursuits of my life ; and you who were my first guide, were my earliest critic.
Page 119 - In this time (says the historian) the woods began to rejoice that they were no longer infested with robbers; the oxen began to plough; the pilgrims visited the sanctuaries; the roads and inns were replenished with travellers ; trade, plenty, and good faith were restored in the markets; and a purse of gold might be exposed without danger in the midst of the highway.