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Страница 284 - On this question of principle, while actual suffering was yet afar off, they raised their flag against a power, to which, for purposes of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome, in the height of her glory, is not to be compared ; a power which has dotted over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and military posts, whose morning drum-beat, following the sun, and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England.
Страница 247 - I have now reigned above fifty years in victory or peace; beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honours, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation, I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot: they amount to FOURTEEN: — O man!
Страница 334 - I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear Such gallant chiding ; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.
Страница 44 - Approach, thou craven crouching slave : Say, is not this Thermopylae ? These waters blue that round you lave, Oh servile offspring of the free — Pronounce what sea, what shore is this ? The gulf, the rock of Salamis ! These scenes, their story not unknown, Arise, and make again your own...
Страница 168 - Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Страница 242 - Thou also fair and graceful Palm-tree, thou, Art here a stranger. Western breezes wave Softly around thee with the breath of love, Caressing thy soft beauty. Rich the soil Wherein thy roots are prospering, and thy head Thou liftest high to heaven. Thou, fair tree, Dost feel no grief for thine abandoned home. To me alone that pain, to me alone The tears of long regret for thy fair sisters lilooming by Forat's* wave.