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Philip Van Artevelde: A Dramatic Romance. In Two Parts, Tema 73
Sir Henry Taylor
Vista completa - 1852
ADRIANA AESWYN arms ARTEVELDE bear better blood BOSCH BOURBON bring brought Bruges BURGHER BURGUNDY called CECILE CLARA comes Constable counsel D'ARLON death deem Earl ears ELENA Enter Exit eyes fair fall FATHER JOHN fear fire Flanders follow force France friends Ghent GILBERT give grace hand hast hath head hear heard heart highness hold hope hour hundred keep King lady leave less LESTOVET light live look lord Master meet mind Mount MUCK never night occo once pardon pass peace Philip PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE poor SCENE SIR FLEUREANT sleep soul speak stand strange surely tell thank thee things thou thought town true truth turn VAN DEN BOSCH VAN RYK VAUCLAIRE wait wish WOMAN Ypres
Página 16 - 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.
Página 59 - We figure to ourselves The thing we like, and then we build it. up> As chance will have it, on the rock or sand : For thought is tired of wandering o'er the world. And homebound Fancy runs her bark ashore.
Página 29 - ... the fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no Culture of the Earth, 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, continuall feare and danger of violent death. And the life of man, solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short.
Página 125 - s that betwixt you been which you yourselves, Should ye forget, would then not be yourselves ; For must it not be thought some base men's souls Have ta'en the seats of yours and...
Página 66 - tis ignoble to have led my life In idle meditations — that the times Demand me, that they call my father'B 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.
Página 424 - Sirs, pass we on, And let the bodies follow us on biers. Wolf of the weald, and yellow-footed kite, Enough is spread for you of meaner prey. Other interment than your maws afford Is due to these. At Courtray we shall sleep, And there I'll see them buried side by side.
Página 306 - ARTEVELDE (after a pause). The night is far advanced upon the morrow, And but for that conglomerated mass Of cloud with ragged edges, like a mound Or black pine-forest on a mountain's top, Wherein the light lies ambushed, dawn were near.
Página 416 - Lo ! we're flying all ! Mount, mount, old man ; at least let one be saved ! Roosdyk ! Vauclaire ! the gallant and the kind ! Who shall inscribe your merits on your tombs ? May mine tell nothing to the world but this : That never did that prince or leader live, Who had more loyal or more loving friends ! Let it be written that fidelity Could go no farther.
Página 16 - ... of masculine judgment, would certainly excite no sentiment of admiration, even if they did not provoke contempt. When the conduct and feelings attributed to them are reduced into prose, and brought to the test of a rational consideration, they must be perceived to be beings in whom there is no strength except that of their intensely selfish passions, — in whom all is vanity; their exertions being for vanity under the name of love or revenge, and their sufferings for vanity under the name of...