Philip Van Artevelde: A Dramatic Romance. In Two Parts

John B. Alden, 1883 - 427 páginas

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Página 29 - ... 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, continual fear and danger of violent death; and the life of man solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
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 76 - All my life long I have beheld with most respect the man Who knew himself and knew the ways before him, And from amongst them chose considerately, With a clear foresight, not a blindfold courage, And, having chosen, with a steadfast mind Pursued his purposes.
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 77 - Leaps from his slumber on the wave-washed deck ; And now the time comes fast, when here in Ghent, He who would live exempt from injuries Of armed men, must be himself in arms. This time is near for all, — nearer for me.
Página 56 - 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 ; a thousand others Have had their fortunes foundered by a chance, Whilst lighter barks pushed past them ; to whom add A smaller tally, of the singular few, Who, gifted with predominating powers, Bear yet a temperate...
Página 57 - 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.
Página 451 - In the next place, for the lightsome passion of joy. It was not that which now often usurps this name ; that trivial, vanishing, superficial thing, that only gilds the apprehension, and plays upon the surface of the soul. It was not the mere crackling of thorns, a sudden blaze of the spirits, the exultation of a tickled fancy, or a pleased appetite. Joy was then a masculine and severe thing : the recreation of the judgment, the jubilee of reason.
Página 124 - Wherefore let us be slaves,' — had they thought this, Oh, then, with what an agony of shame, Their blushing faces buried in the dust, Had their great spirits parted hence for heaven ! What ! shall we teach our chroniclers henceforth To write that in five bodies were contained The sole brave hearts of Ghent! which five defunct, The heartless town, by brainless counsel led...
Página 150 - 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.

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