Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance, General Literature, & Art, Volumen6William Harrison Ainsworth Chapman and Hall, 1844 |
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Página 54
... Fear- fully have I felt it ; but success , and pride , and the strength of man- hood , and the impious sacrifice of all to self , have tempted me to defy it . Now I must reap the harvest I have sown . " Having thus soliloquized ...
... Fear- fully have I felt it ; but success , and pride , and the strength of man- hood , and the impious sacrifice of all to self , have tempted me to defy it . Now I must reap the harvest I have sown . " Having thus soliloquized ...
Página 63
... fears . Alcæus , the most bitter and jealous of all , —a man high in the republic , at the head of the most powerful party , and a leader in war , a native of Mitylene too , -should have felt honoured in having Sapho for a fair ...
... fears . Alcæus , the most bitter and jealous of all , —a man high in the republic , at the head of the most powerful party , and a leader in war , a native of Mitylene too , -should have felt honoured in having Sapho for a fair ...
Página 67
... fear Alive to the least shade of blame . How true and nobly spoken ! How beautiful- Pardon , my friend ; " Twould irk me much , if from a thoughtless vein- A playful disposition - you should waken Emotions destined but to make her ...
... fear Alive to the least shade of blame . How true and nobly spoken ! How beautiful- Pardon , my friend ; " Twould irk me much , if from a thoughtless vein- A playful disposition - you should waken Emotions destined but to make her ...
Página 69
... fear of secret assassination . It was bad enough in the times of the Portuguese , and when a few adventurous travellers and ardent missionaries reopened the blood - stained pathway ; but the rivalry of French and English missions ...
... fear of secret assassination . It was bad enough in the times of the Portuguese , and when a few adventurous travellers and ardent missionaries reopened the blood - stained pathway ; but the rivalry of French and English missions ...
Página 72
... the terminal sigma . With this exquisite bit of philological criticism we leave our otherwise entertaining , and , we fear , somewhat ill - used author . NOT SO BLACK AS HE'S PAINTED . BY LAMAN BLANCHARD 72 TRAVELS IN SOUTHERN ABYSSINIA .
... the terminal sigma . With this exquisite bit of philological criticism we leave our otherwise entertaining , and , we fear , somewhat ill - used author . NOT SO BLACK AS HE'S PAINTED . BY LAMAN BLANCHARD 72 TRAVELS IN SOUTHERN ABYSSINIA .
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Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance, General Literature ..., Volumen19 Vista completa - 1851 |
Términos y frases comunes
Aleppo Amanus ancient Antioch appeared arrived Auriol Baldred beauty Bimbelot brought called Captain character church Colonel Commagena cried Doctor door Doyle duchess Duchess of Marlborough duke Euphrates exclaimed eyes father favour feeling French Gindarus give Guiscard hand Harley head heard heart honour horse hour Hugh Kate king Kurds lady live look lord madam Manesty Marlborough Masham miles mind morning nature never night occasion once Othello party passed passion Pat Doyle Patrick Doyle person PHAON plain Plumpton poet Polka Party poor present Proddy queen rejoined rendered replied returned river Roman round ruins Sacheverell Saint-John Sandman SAPHO Savidge scene seemed serjeant shew side spirit stood Strabo Syria Tamworth thee Theocritus thing thou thought Tinker tion took town Turkomans turned Varnham village voice Westerwood wife woman words young
Pasajes populares
Página 179 - And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the Shepherds weep no more; Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Página 179 - Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
Página 495 - God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain : To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Página 83 - Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
Página 395 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; Which pillage they with merry march bring...
Página 308 - He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek.
Página 391 - And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes ; If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit ; If these had made one poem's period, And all combined in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest...
Página 280 - tis, that you should carry me away: And trust me not, my friends, if, every day, I walk not here with more delight, Than ever, after the most happy fight, In triumph to the capitol I rode, To thank the gods, and to be thought, myself, almost a god.
Página 279 - Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good! Hail, ye plebeian under-wood ! Where the poetic birds rejoice, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food Pay, with their grateful voice. Hail, the poor Muses...
Página 485 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.