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Updated: April 30, 2025
Holkar, I know thee, and thou knowest me too! Who, with his single sword, destroyed thy armies? Who, with his pistol, cleft in twain thy nose-ring? Who slew thy generals? Who slew thy elephants? Three hundred mighty beasts went forth to battle: of these I slew one hundred and thirty-five! Dog, coward, ruffian, tyrant, unbeliever! Gahagan hates thee, spurns thee, spits on thee!"
The Moor seems noble, frank, confiding, grateful for the love shown him; and he is all this, and, moreover, a hero who spurns at danger, a worthy leader of an army, a faithful servant of the state; but the mere physical force of passion puts to flight in one moment all his acquired and mere habitual virtues, and gives the upper hand to the savage over the moral man.
Without a God, he acknowledges no benefactor; without divine laws, he knows no rule for the conduct of life, and submits to no law but his passions. An enemy to all social order, he spurns at human laws, and breaks through every barrier opposed to his wickedness."
Oh! you may laugh; but he laughs last. He has not only a patent for it, but a good sale also, and is looking around for other worlds to conquer." "And yet spurns society? Ours!" "No, simply develops no affinity for it; would like to, if only to please me; but can't.
There is a steadfastness of virtue in some high-minded men, which enables them to resist the insidious temptations of the bad demon; there is also a stern stability of vice often found in the unfortunate outlaw, which disregards, for a time, the voice of conscience, and spurns the whispered wooing of the good principle, "charm it never so wisely;" yet the real confessions of the hearts of those individuals would show traces enough of the agency of the unseen power to prove their want of title to an exception from the general rule which includes all the sons of Adam.
Anathema of power so dread, It blends the living with the dead, Bids each good angel soar away, And every ill one claim his prey; Expels thee from the church's care, And deafens Heaven against thy prayer; Arms every hand against thy life, Bans all who aid thee in the strife; Nay, each whose succor, cold and scant, With meanest alms relieves thy want; Haunts thee when living; and, when dead, Dwells on thy yet devoted head, Rends honor's 'scutcheon from thy hearse, Stills o'er thy bier the holy verse, And spurns thy corpse from hallowed ground Flung like vile carrion to the hound; Such is the dire and desperate doom For sacrilege, decreed by Rome; And such the well-deserved meed Of thine unhallowed, ruthless deed."
Here are seen the old fossil footprints of feudalism. The law relating to woman tends to make every family a barony or a monarchy or a despotism, of which the husband is the baron, king, or despot, and the wife the dependent, serf, or slave. That this is not always the fact, is not due to the law, but to the enlarged humanity which spurns the narrow limits of its rules.
It is a glorious task that lies before the minister of to-day to maintain, develop, and uplift the spiritual life of the most wonderful epoch of the world's history; to place upon human souls that vital touch that shall hold their powers subject to eternal influences and aims. The times are not wholly unfavorable: our era, which spurns many ecclesiastical forms, is at heart essentially religious.
When nature shrinks From the slight puncture of an insect's sting, Faints, if not screen'd from sultry suns, and pines Beneath the hardship of an hour's delay Of needful nutriment; when Liberty, Is priz'd so dearly, that the slightest breath, That ruffles but her mantle, can awake To arms unwarlike nations, and can rouse Confed'rate states to vindicate her claims: How shall the suff'rer man his fellow doom To ills he mourns or spurns at; tear with stripes His quiv'ring flesh; with hunger and with thirst Waste his emaciate frame; in ceaseless toils Exhaust his vital powers; and bind his limbs In galling chains!
You're proud of the wonderful influence you exercise over me. And all I get out of you is a 'aughty smile." "The fact is," declared Mrs. Mills, "you get too much attention from the ladies. It spoils you!" "See how she spurns me," he cried, turning to Gertie. "You wouldn't treat a gentleman like that, would you, missy? You wouldn't play football with an honest, loving heart, I'm sure.
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