Richelieu; or, The conspiracy: a play. To which are added, Historical odes. By the author of the 'Lady of Lyons'.

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Сторінка 18 - I found France rent asunder, — The rich men despots, and the poor banditti; — Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple; Brawls festering to Rebellion; and weak Laws Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths. — I have re-created France; and, from the ashes Of the old feudal and decrepit carcase, Civilization on her luminous wings Soars, phoenix-like, to Jove!
Сторінка 39 - Beneath the rule of men entirely great The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold The arch-enchanter's wand ! — itself a nothing ! — But taking sorcery from the master-hand 310 To paralyse the Caesars, and to strike The loud earth breathless ! — Take away the sword — States can be saved without it ! (Looking on the clock.) 'Tis the hour, — Retire, Sir.
Сторінка 53 - Beneath the aspect of a bright-eyed star, And my triumphant adamant of soul Is but the fix'd persuasion of success. Ah ! — here ! — that spasm ! — again ! — How Life and Death Do wrestle for me momently ! — And yet The King looks pale. I shall outlive the King ! And then, thou insolent Austrian — who...
Сторінка 45 - We priests, to whom the Church forbids in youth The plighted one — to manhood's toil denies The soother helpmate — from our wither'd age Shuts the sweet blossoms of the second spring That smiles in the name of Father — we are yet Not holier than humanity, and must Fulfil Humanity's condition — Love...
Сторінка 82 - Marked out for vengeance, — exile or the scaffold. You find me now amidst my trustiest friends, My closest kindred : you would tear them from me. They murder you, forsooth, since me they love ! Enough of plots and treasons for one reign.
Сторінка 89 - I'm patient, see! Bar. [aside]. His mind And life are breaking fast! Rich, [overhearing him]. Irreverent ribald! If so, beware the falling ruins ! Hark ! I tell thee, scorner of these whitening hairs, When this snow melteth there shall come a flood ! Avaunt ! my name is Richelieu — I defy thee ! Walk blindfold on ; behind thee stalks the headsman. Ha ! ha ! — how pale he is ! Heaven save my country ! [Falls back in JOSEPH'S arms.
Сторінка 52 - Upon the dark and stormy tides where life Gives battle to the elements, — and man Wrestles with man for some slight plank, whose weight Will bear but one — while round the desperate wretch The hungry billows roar — and the fierce Fate, Like some huge monster, dim-seen through the surf, Waits him who drops ; — ye safe and formal men, Who write the deeds, and with unfeverish hand Weigh in nice scales the motives of the Great, Ye cannot know what ye have never tried...
Сторінка 51 - When I am dust, my name shall, like a star, Shine through wan space, a glory — and a prophet Whereby pale seers shall from their aery towers Con all the ominous signs, benign or evil, That make the potent astrologue of kings. But shall the Future judge me by the ends That I have...
Сторінка 82 - Mark'd out for vengeance — exile or the scaffold. You find me now amidst my trustiest friends, My closest kindred; — you would tear them from me; They murder you forsooth, since me they love! Eno' of plots and treasons for one reign ! Home!
Сторінка 42 - In the lexicon of youth, which Fate reserves For a bright manhood, there is no such word As — fail!

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