The poetical and dramatic works of sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Volume 1

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Halaman 235 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Halaman 231 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward.
Halaman 321 - I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart of a king, and of a king of England, too...
Halaman 317 - I am not well," and then discoursed with me of her indisposition, and that her heart had been sad and heavy for ten or twelve days, and in her discourse she fetched not so few as forty or fifty great sighs. I was grieved at the first to see her in this plight ; for in all my lifetime before I never knew her fetch a sigh, but when the Queen of Scots was beheaded.
Halaman 313 - Few words she uttered; and they were all expressive of some inward grief which she cared not to reveal: but sighs and groans were the chief vent which she gave to her despondency, and which, though they discovered her sorrows, were never able to ease or assuage them.
Halaman 253 - THE HERMIT. Years fly; beneath the yew-tree's shade, Thy father's holy dust is laid ; The brook glides on, the jasmine blows ; But where art thou, the wandering wife? And what the bliss, and what the woes, Glass'd in the mirror-sleep of life? For whether life may laugh or weep. Death the true waking — life the sleep. Who tenants thy forsaken cot — Who tends thy childhood's favourite flowcrsWho wakes, from every haunted spot, The Ghosts of buried Hours 1 "Pis...
Halaman 16 - Rowley made ; Where Villiers flaunted, and where Sedley sung, And wit's loose diamonds dropp'd from Wilmot's tongue ! All at rest now — all dust ! — wave flows on wave ; But the sea dries not ! — what to us the grave ? It brings no real homily, we sigh, Pause for awhile and murmur, " all must die ! " Then rush to pleasure, action, sin once more, Swell the loud tide, and fret unto the shore. And o'er the altered scene Calantha's eye Roves listless — yet Time's Great the passers by ! Along...
Halaman 19 - Nor gout, nor toil, his freshness can destroy, And Time still leaves all Eton in the boy; — First in the class, and keenest in the ring, He saps like Gladstone, and he fights like Spring ! EVn at the feast, his pluck pervades the board, And dauntless game-cocks symbolize their lord.
Halaman 317 - In meanings faint and low ; But sadder still to mark, the while, The vacant stare, the marble smile, And think, that goal of glory won, How slight a shade between The idiot moping in the sun And England's giant Queen ! * * ' It was after labouring for nearly three weeks under a morbid melancholy, which brought on a stupor not unmixed with some indications of a disordered fancy, that the Queen expired.
Halaman 19 - One after one, the Lords of Time advance; Here Stanley meets — how Stanley scorns ! — the glance. The brilliant chief, irregularly great, Frank, haughty, rash, the Rupert of Debate ; Nor gout nor toil his freshness can destroy, And time still leaves all Eton in the boy.

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