Cromwell And The Crown.

("Ah! je le tiens enfin.")

[CROMWELL, Act II., October, 1827.]


THURLOW communicates the intention of Parliament to
offer CROMWELL the crown.

CROMWELL. And is it mine? And have my feet at length
Attained the summit of the rock i' the sand?

THURLOW. And yet, my lord, you have long reigned.

CROM.        Nay, nay!
Power I have 'joyed, in sooth, but not the name.
Thou smilest, Thurlow. Ah, thou little know'st
What hole it is Ambition digs i' th' heart
What end, most seeming empty, is the mark
For which we fret and toil and dare! How hard
With an unrounded fortune to sit down!
Then, what a lustre from most ancient times
Heaven has flung o'er the sacred head of kings!
King - Majesty - what names of power! No king,
And yet the world's high arbiter! The thing
Without the word! no handle to the blade!
Away - the empire and the name are one!
Alack! thou little dream'st how grievous 'tis,
Emerging from the crowd, and at the top
Arrived, to feel that there is something still
Above our heads; something, nothing! no matter -
That word is everything.

LEITCH RITCHIE.

Victor-Marie Hugo

Victor-Marie Hugo was a French poet, novelist, and dramatist of the Romantic movement. He is considered one of the greatest French writers, with works such as "Les Misérables" and "The Hunchback of Notre-Dame." His literary works often explore themes of justice, love, and human rights. In addition to his literary achievements, he was also a politician and human rights activist. Hugo's influence extends beyond literature into politics and society.

Victor-Marie Hugo

The Lover's Wish.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

Genius.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

The Favorite Sultana.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

Morning.

Victor-Marie Hugo, Simple Poetry

English

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Milton's Appeal To Cromwell.

("Non! je n'y puis tenir.")

[CROMWELL, Act III. sc. iv.]


Stay! I no longer can contain myself,
But cry you: Look on John, who bares his mind
To Oliver - to Cromwell, Milton speaks!
Despite a kindling eye and marvel deep
A voice is lifted up without your leave;
For I was never placed at council board
To speak my promptings. When awed strangers come
Who've seen Fox-Mazarin wince at the stings
In my epistles - and bring admiring votes
Of learned colleges, they strain to see
My figure in the glare - the usher utters,
"Behold and hearken! that's my Lord Protector's
Cousin - that, his son-in-law - that next" - who cares!
Some perfumed puppet! "Milton?" "He in black -
Yon silent scribe who trims their eloquence!"
Still 'chroniclin...

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My Napoleon.

("Toujours lui! lui partout!")

[XL., December, 1828.]


Above all others, everywhere I see
His image cold or burning!
My brain it thrills, and oftentime sets free
The thoughts within me yearning.
My quivering lips pour forth the words
That cluster in his name of glory -
The star gigantic with its rays of swords
Whose gleams irradiate all modern story.

I see his finger pointing where the shell
Should fall to slay most rabble,
And save foul regicides; or strike the knell
Of weaklings 'mid the tribunes' babble.
A Consul then, o'er young but proud,
With midnight poring thinned, and sallow,
But dreams of Empire pierce the transient cloud,
And round pale face and lank locks form the halo.

And soon the Caesar, with an eye ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

After The Coup D'Êtat.

("Devant les trahisons.")

[Bk. VII, xvi., Jersey, Dec. 2, 1852.]


Before foul treachery and heads hung down,
I'll fold my arms, indignant but serene.
Oh! faith in fallen things - be thou my crown,
My force, my joy, my prop on which I lean:

Yes, whilst he's there, or struggle some or fall,
O France, dear France, for whom I weep in vain.
Tomb of my sires, nest of my loves - my all,
I ne'er shall see thee with these eyes again.

I shall not see thy sad, sad sounding shore,
France, save my duty, I shall all forget;
Amongst the true and tried, I'll tug my oar,
And rest proscribed to brand the fawning set.

O bitter exile, hard, without a term,
Thee I accept, nor seek nor care to know
Who have down-truckled 'mid the men...

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Imperial Revels.

("Courtisans! attablés dans le splendide orgie.")

[Bk. I. x., Jersey, December, 1852.]


Cheer, courtiers! round the banquet spread -
The board that groans with shame and plate,
Still fawning to the sham-crowned head
That hopes front brazen turneth fate!
Drink till the comer last is full,
And never hear in revels' lull,
Grim Vengeance forging arrows fleet,
    Whilst I gnaw at the crust
    Of Exile in the dust -
But Honor makes it sweet!

Ye cheaters in the tricksters' fane,
Who dupe yourself and trickster-chief,
In blazing cafés spend the gain,
But draw the blind, lest at his thief
Some fresh-made beggar gives a glance
And interrupts with steel the dance!
But let him toilsomely tramp by,
    As ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

State Tricks Or A Peep Into The Cabinet Of The Premier Consul, At St. Cloud, On The Night Of The 26Th Oct. 1803.

- "they show an outward hideousness,
And speak off half a dozen dang'rous words,
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst;
And this is all."

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, Act V. Scene 4.


FIRST CONSUL.

My dear Talleyrand! I am sorry to send
For you out of your bed; but you know you're my friend:
No secret I hide from your generous breast;
This invasion is always invading my rest:
My soldiers, poor devils! are ready to start,
But to stay where I am is the wish of my heart;
And yet I have sworn at their head to appear:
I am puzzl'd to act 'twixt my threats and my fear;
If I go, I am lost! - say, what shall I do?

TALLEYRAND.

Why I think I've a snug little project in view:
I have felt for you long, and have ransack'...

John Carr

Marston Moor

The armies met on Marston Moor,
'Midst lightning's flash and thunder's roar;
As murky clouds sweep o'er the sky,
God's cannonade with man's will vie.
The Royalists in phalanx strong,
By fiery Rupert led along,
From Bolton's cruel massacre
Towards York, in hope to keep it free
From the Roundheads at any cost.
"If York be lost, my crown is lost"--
Wrote Charles to this trusted chief,
And he must bring it prompt relief.
The foe's true strength he did not know,
But dazzled much by victory's glow
He hoped with ease to overthrow
The untrained volunteers;
Nor did he for brave Cromwell care,
Tho' he had asked "is Cromwell there?"
Would not his grenadiers
Scatter those yeomen to their fields,
To hold their ploughs instead of shields?
Thus confi...

Joseph Horatio Chant