The Literary Life and Correspondence of the Countess of Blessington, Том 1

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T. C. Newby, 1855 - 599 стор.
 

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Сторінка 72 - Count' (to use Farquhar's phrase in the Beaux Stratagem), who has all the air of a Cuvidon dec/Mine, and is one of the few specimens I have seen of our ideal of a Frenchman before the Revolution — an old friend with a new face, upon whose like I never thought that we should look again.
Сторінка 477 - When all was done ; when you had been "received into the congregation of Christ's flock, and signed with the sign of the cross, in token that hereafter you should not be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, but manfully fight under His banner against sin, the world, and the devil, and continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant to your life's end...
Сторінка 43 - He was educated at Eton and at Christ Church, Oxford, where he obtained the...
Сторінка 305 - The park was, it seems, used by the late king and nobility for the freshness of the air and the goodly prospect, but it is that which now (besides all other...
Сторінка 162 - Throw yourself rather, my dear sir, from the steep Tarpeian rock, slap-dash headlong upon iron spikes. If you had but five consolatory minutes between the desk and the bed, make much of them, and live a century in them, rather than turn slave to the booksellers. They are Turks and Tartars when they have poor authors at their beck Hitherto you have been at arm's length from them. Come...
Сторінка 304 - And fondly dictate to a faithful Muse The prime distinction of the friend they lose. 'Twas social wit, which, never kindling strife, Blazed in the small, sweet courtesies of life ; Those little sapphires round the diamond shone, Lending soft radiance to the richer stone.
Сторінка 441 - I looked yesterday at the worst parts of the Monk. These descriptions ought to have been written by Tiberius at Caprea — they are forced — the philtered ideas of a jaded voluptuary. It is to me inconceivable how they could have been composed by a man of only twenty — his age when he wrote them. They have no nature — all the sour cream of cantharides.
Сторінка 73 - BENEATH Blessington's eyes The reclaim'd Paradise Should be free as the former from evil ; But, if the new Eve For an Apple should grieve, What mortal would not play the Devil...
Сторінка 72 - I attribute the pleasure of having seen them. She is also very pretty even in a morning, — a species of beauty on which the sun of Italy does not shine so frequently as the chandelier.
Сторінка 76 - we are all now together — but when, and where, shall we meet again ? I have a sort of boding that we see each other for the last time ; as something tells me I shall never again return from Greece.

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