The Eton Bureau, Випуски 1 – 6Ingalton and Son, 1842 |
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Сторінка 15
... received . Lord Dacre turned back in moody silence . ( To be continued . ) " VOS VALETE . " The steed , impatient of control , Snorts for the chase , or grasps the goal : On wings of rage to battle borne- He rends the earth in very ...
... received . Lord Dacre turned back in moody silence . ( To be continued . ) " VOS VALETE . " The steed , impatient of control , Snorts for the chase , or grasps the goal : On wings of rage to battle borne- He rends the earth in very ...
Сторінка 28
... , ) I have on more occasions than one , known tumours as large as the egg of a small bird , to have arisen in consequence of injuries received during the prosecution of this most painful of pleasures 28 ETON BUREAU .
... , ) I have on more occasions than one , known tumours as large as the egg of a small bird , to have arisen in consequence of injuries received during the prosecution of this most painful of pleasures 28 ETON BUREAU .
Сторінка 29
received during the prosecution of this most painful of pleasures . Being by nature extremely humane , I have been a spectator of such scenes on several occasions , and indeed have frequently been on the point of requesting the ...
received during the prosecution of this most painful of pleasures . Being by nature extremely humane , I have been a spectator of such scenes on several occasions , and indeed have frequently been on the point of requesting the ...
Сторінка 34
... received with mingled sensations of pride and sorrow , the choice , but scanty collection of leaving books , presented to him by friends , who , like him , had adored the memory of Porson , and emulated the elegiac sweetness of the Musæ ...
... received with mingled sensations of pride and sorrow , the choice , but scanty collection of leaving books , presented to him by friends , who , like him , had adored the memory of Porson , and emulated the elegiac sweetness of the Musæ ...
Сторінка 41
... received this , and more than this , from some whose opinion we most highly value ; and our position is now no longer that of the timid adventurer , but of the accepted guest . Not that we have the inclination , had we the D power , to ...
... received this , and more than this , from some whose opinion we most highly value ; and our position is now no longer that of the timid adventurer , but of the accepted guest . Not that we have the inclination , had we the D power , to ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
Æneid Apollonius Rhodius barque beauty better breath bright Burton calm castle Catullus character charm child clouds dare dark dear death doth earth Eton Bureau Etonians evil eyes fair faith fancy fear feelings gaze gentle George Morland Georgics give grace grave Gwendolen hand happy hath heard heart heaven Herstmonceux holy honour hope King knew Ladon leave light live look Lord Byron Lord Dacre Lycophron Menedemus mind nature never night o'er once passed perhaps Phormio poet poor prayer Procles Puddletown readers round scarce scene scorn seemed shame shew shuffler sigh similes smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stream sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought told TOMMY GREEN truth Unterwalden verse Virgil waves wind Windsor Castle words write young youth
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Сторінка 316 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Сторінка 274 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Сторінка 229 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things : There is no armour against fate : Death lays his icy hands on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Сторінка 267 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Сторінка 187 - Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Сторінка 143 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth...
Сторінка 265 - Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter*, more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
Сторінка 335 - THE POET'S SONG. THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He pass'd by the town and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, And waves of shadow went over the wheat, And he sat him down in a lonely place, And chanted a melody loud and sweet, That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud, And the lark drop down at his feet.
Сторінка 229 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom...
Сторінка 114 - The youth, he cried, whom I exiled Shall be restored to woo her. She's at the window many an hour His coming to discover: And he look'd up to Ellen's bower And she look'd on her lover — But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwelling — And am I then forgot — forgot? It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Her...