The Gentleman's Magazine, Том 252

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Bradbury, Evans, 1882

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Сторінка 332 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats ; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth ; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is ; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Сторінка 99 - And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book : who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image ; but he who destroys a good book kills reason itself — kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.
Сторінка 183 - See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings: Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. Ah! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes, The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold?
Сторінка 175 - Kilda's * shore, whose lonely race Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds, The royal eagle draws his vigorous young, Strong-pounced, and ardent with paternal fire. Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own, He drives them from his fort, the towering seat, For ages, of his empire ; which, in peace, Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea He wings his course, and preys in distant isles.
Сторінка 180 - O'er the Deep! O'er the Deep! Where the whale, and the shark, and the sword-fish sleep, Outflying the blast and the driving rain, The Petrel telleth her tale — in vain; For the mariner curseth the warning bird Who bringeth him news of the storms unheard ! Ah!
Сторінка 524 - And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side". "How many are you, then, "said I, "If they two are in heaven?
Сторінка 331 - Thus wandered these poor innocents, Till death did end their grief; In one another's arms they died, As wanting due relief: No burial this pretty pair Of any man receives, Till Robin-red-breast piously Did cover them with leaves.
Сторінка 479 - ... by its gardens green; Think, that below bridge the green lapping waves Smite some few keels that bear Levantine staves, Cut from the yew wood on the burnt-up hill, And pointed jars that Greek hands toiled to fill, And treasured scanty spice from some far sea, Florence gold cloth, and Ypres napery, And cloth of Bruges, and hogsheads of Guienne; While nigh the thronged wharf Geoffrey Chaucer's pen Moves over bills of lading— mid such times Shall dwell the hollow puppets of my rhymes.
Сторінка 332 - Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best, The pious Bird with the scarlet breast, Our little English Robin; The Bird that comes about our doors When Autumn winds are sobbing?
Сторінка 524 - And then an open field they crossed : The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost; And to the bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank Those footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank; And further there were none ! — Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living child ; That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind.

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