The Pocket magazine of classic and polite literature. [Continued as] The Pocket magazine1833 |
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Сторінка 5
... feel . There is in love no tranquillity ; whilst a single doubt can gain admission , the timid lover - and who loves sincerely that is not timid ? -dares not seek the truth -- he lives in all the uncertainty of hope , rather than ...
... feel . There is in love no tranquillity ; whilst a single doubt can gain admission , the timid lover - and who loves sincerely that is not timid ? -dares not seek the truth -- he lives in all the uncertainty of hope , rather than ...
Сторінка 26
... feel I am now in no state to judge . " - The pen dropped from his hand as he fell on the earth in a state of torpor , from which he only recovered to find himself again in his dismal cell . As nearly as he could surmise , three days ...
... feel I am now in no state to judge . " - The pen dropped from his hand as he fell on the earth in a state of torpor , from which he only recovered to find himself again in his dismal cell . As nearly as he could surmise , three days ...
Сторінка 36
... feel a secret wish to view Th ' entangled vale thou hast to wander through ? While fancy loves to deck the scene with flow'rs , Gather'd from glory's fields , or pleasure's roseate bow'rs ! Until , perchance , some peasants ' laughter's ...
... feel a secret wish to view Th ' entangled vale thou hast to wander through ? While fancy loves to deck the scene with flow'rs , Gather'd from glory's fields , or pleasure's roseate bow'rs ! Until , perchance , some peasants ' laughter's ...
Сторінка 55
... feel or mean to imply as our feelings . And in doing so we fail . The many never hold in sympathy with the few : - the unlearned , in classical tongues , distrust ( and so do we ) the pomp which chronicles its grief in an unknown tongue ...
... feel or mean to imply as our feelings . And in doing so we fail . The many never hold in sympathy with the few : - the unlearned , in classical tongues , distrust ( and so do we ) the pomp which chronicles its grief in an unknown tongue ...
Сторінка 71
... feel what ' tis to part With those whom we have loved so well , " Tis then the low desponding heart Would still delay to say - Farewell . With those with whom we've passed our youth- With those we fain would ever dwell , Whose trouble ...
... feel what ' tis to part With those whom we have loved so well , " Tis then the low desponding heart Would still delay to say - Farewell . With those with whom we've passed our youth- With those we fain would ever dwell , Whose trouble ...
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The Pocket magazine of classic and polite literature. [Continued as ..., Том 9 Повний перегляд - 1822 |
The Pocket magazine of classic and polite literature. [Continued as ..., Том 8 Повний перегляд - 1821 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Adelinda Albruzzo Amalberga appeared arms baron beauty Black Forest bosom breath bright brow called Callisthenes castle countenance country comforts cried Cuvier dark daughter dead dear death deep delight door dream Duke of Rothesay earth East Woodhay EDWARD ALLEYN Elvira exclaimed eyes fair father fear feel feet forest gentleman Geshie Glendhu grey friar hand hath head heard heart heaven Heloise Hernando Herrman honor hope hour Jack king knew Koenigsberg lady Letty light lips live look Lord Lysimachus Meinheim mind mountains nature NELL GWYN never night o'er passed Pevensey Pierrot poor possession prince racter replied returned round Rubezahl scarcely scene seemed smile soon sorrow soul spirit Stadtholder stood sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought Verstegan voice Wahabees whilst wild words wretched young youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 57 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep ! He hath awakened from the dream of life. 'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings. We decay Like corpses in a charnel ; fear and grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay. He has outsoared the shadow of our night...
Сторінка 192 - ... but the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot, and she returned unto him into the ark...
Сторінка 271 - The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful ! I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learn'd the language of another world.
Сторінка 113 - That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days : So full of dismal terror was the time.
Сторінка 129 - Oh! laughingly My little brothers round the warm hearth crowd, Our home-fire blazes broad, and bright, and high, And the roof rings with voices light and loud: Spare me awhile! raise up my drooping brow! I am content to die — but, oh! not now!
Сторінка 242 - OH ! beautiful thou art, Thou sculpture-like and stately River-Queen ! Crowning the depths, as with the light serene Of a pure heart. Bright lily of the wave ! Rising in fearless grace with every swell, Thou seem'st as if a spirit meekly brave Dwelt in thy cell...
Сторінка 181 - And whereas the Laws of England are the birthright of the people thereof, and all the Kings and Queens, who shall ascend the Throne of this realm, ought to administer the Government of the same according to the said laws, and all their officers and ministers ought to serve them respectively according to the same...
Сторінка 129 - Summer is gone ; and autumn's soberer hues Tint the ripe fruits, and gild the waving corn ; The huntsman swift the flying game pursues, Shouts the halloo ! and winds his eager horn. " Spare me awhile, to wander forth and gaze On the broad meadows, and the quiet stream, To watch in silence while the evening rays Slant through the fading trees with ruddy gleam ! Cooler the breezes play around my brow ; I am content to die, — but oh ! not now...
Сторінка 222 - He hung his head ; each nobler aim And hope and feeling, which had slept From boyhood's hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept ! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.
Сторінка 236 - The hoary fool, who many days Has struggled with continued sorrow, Renews his hope, and blindly lays The desperate bet upon to-morrow. To-morrow comes ; 'tis noon, 'tis night ; This day like all the former flies : Yet on he runs, to seek delight To-morrow, till to-night he dies.