Among My Books, Том 1

Передня обкладинка
J. R. Osgood, 1877 - 380 стор.

З цієї книги

Вибрані сторінки

Інші видання - Показати все

Загальні терміни та фрази

Популярні уривки

Сторінка 234 - It is therefore ordered, That every township in this jurisdiction, after the Lord hath increased them to the number of fifty householders, shall then forthwith appoint one within their town to teach all such children as shall resort to him to write and read...
Сторінка 208 - If to do were as easy as to know what were^ good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.
Сторінка 7 - The lonely mountains o'er and the resounding shore a voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; from haunted spring and dale edged with poplar pale the parting Genius is with sighing sent; with flower-inwoven tresses torn the nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Сторінка 264 - Your serpent of Egypt is bred, now, of your mud by the operation of your sun : so is your crocodile.
Сторінка 316 - In bigness to surpass Earth's giant sons, Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room Throng numberless...
Сторінка 258 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed...
Сторінка 181 - This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. BAN. This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Сторінка 180 - When proud-pied April dressed in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in everything', That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the...
Сторінка 205 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.

Бібліографічна інформація