The Poetical Works of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart. M.P. Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

Who clasp for Fame its spectre-likeness—Power!

       The busy, babbling, talking, toiling race—

       The Word-besiegers of the Fortress—Place!

       Waves, each on each, in sunlight hurrying on,

       A moment gilded—in a moment gone;

       For Honours fool but with deluding light—

       The place it glides through, not the wave, is bright![B] The means, if not his ends, with these the same, In Ruthven, Party hail'd a Leader's name! Night after night the listening Senate hung On that roused mind, by Grief to Action stung! Night after night, when Action, spent and worn, Left yet more sad the soul it had upborne; The sight of Home the frown of Life renew'd— The World gave Fame and Home a Solitude!

       III.

      And Constance? sever'd from a husband's side,

       No heart to cherish, and no hand to guide,

       Still, as if ev'n the very name of wife

       Drew her soul upward into loftier life,

       The solemn sense of woman's holiest tie

       Arm'd every thought against the memory.

       'Mid shatter'd Lares stood the Marriage Queen—

       As on a Roman's hearth, with marble smile serene:

       New to her sight that galaxy of mind

       Which moves round men who light and guide their kind,

       Where all shine equal in their joint degrees

       And rank's harsh outlines vanish into ease.

       As Power and Genius interchange their hues

       So genial life the classic charm renews;

       Some Scipio's wit a Terence may refine,

       Some Cæsar's pomp exalt a Maro's line—

       The polish'd have their flaws, but least espied

       Amongst the polish'd is the angle pride;

       And, howsoever Envy grudge their state,

       Their own bland laws democratize the great.