Portrait of Bonaparte: Being a View of His AdministrationEastburn, Kirk & Company, 1814 - 87 pàgines |
Frases i termes més freqüents
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Passatges populars
Pàgina 79 - TIS done— but yesterday a King ! And arm'd with Kings to strive — And now thou art a nameless thing : So abject — yet alive ! Is this the man of thousand thrones, Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones, And can he thus survive ? Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so far.
Pàgina 80 - Thanks for that lesson — it will teach To after-warriors more Than high Philosophy can preach, And vainly preach'd before. That spell upon the minds of men Breaks never to unite again, That led them to adore Those Pagod things of sabre sway With fronts of brass, and feet of clay.
Pàgina 84 - Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, Nor written thus in vain — Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, Or deepen every stain : If thou hadst died as honour dies, Some new Napoleon might arise, To shame the world again — But who would soar the solar height, To set in such a starless night ? Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust Is vile as vulgar clay; Thy scales, Mortality!
Pàgina 82 - He fell, the forest prowlers' prey ; But thou must eat thy heart away ! The Roman, when his burning heart Was slaked with blood of Rome, Threw down the dagger — dared depart, In savage grandeur, home. — He dared depart in utter scorn Of men that such a yoke had borne, Yet left him such a doom ! His only glory was that hour Of self-upheld abandon'd power.
Pàgina 86 - Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle, And gaze upon the sea; That element may meet thy smile — It ne'er was ruled by thee! Or trace with thine all idle hand, In loitering mood upon the sand, That Earth is now as free! That Corinth's pedagogue* hath now Transferred his byword to thy brow.
Pàgina 87 - Foredoomed by God — by man accurst, And that last act, though not thy worst, The very Fiend's arch mock ! He, in his fall preserved his pride, And, if a mortal; had as proudly died!
Pàgina 81 - Or dread of death alone ? To die a prince— or live a slave — Thy choice is most ignobly brave...
Pàgina 85 - And she, proud Austria's mournful flower, Thy still imperial bride ; How bears her breast the torturing hour ? Still clings she to thy side ? Must she too bend, must she too share Thy late repentance, long despair, Thou throneless Homicide ? If still she loves thee, hoard that gem, 'Tis worth thy vanished diadem ! [16] XIV.
Pàgina 82 - He who of old would rend the oak, Dreamed not of the rebound ; Chained by the trunk he vainly broke — Alone — how looked he round ? Thou in the sternness of thy strength An equal deed hast done at length, And darker fate hast found : He fell, the forest prowlers' prey ; But thou must eat thy heart away ! VII.
Pàgina 83 - The Spaniard, when the lust of sway Had lost its quickening spell, Cast crowns for rosaries away, An empire for a cell; A strict accountant of his beads, A subtle disputant on creeds, His dotage trifled well: Yet better had he neither known A bigot's shrine, nor despot's throne.