Bentley's Miscellany, Том 54Charles Dickens, William Harrison Ainsworth, Albert Smith Richard Bentley, 1863 |
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Інші видання - Показати все
Bentley's Miscellany, Том 7 Charles Dickens,William Harrison Ainsworth,Albert Smith Повний перегляд - 1840 |
Bentley's Miscellany, Том 8 Charles Dickens,William Harrison Ainsworth,Albert Smith Повний перегляд - 1840 |
Bentley's Miscellany, Том 34 Charles Dickens,William Harrison Ainsworth,Albert Smith Повний перегляд - 1853 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Abd-ul-Medjid arms army arrived asked Auvergnat Bessie Bittern Bonner Borri called Caprera Cardinal Carrington Charlemagne Church Conradine Constance cried Crimea death Derrick Carver door emperor English Ethel exclaimed eyes father favour feel Fogo followed France French gentleman Grimshaw hand happy head hear heard heart honour horses hour Hugh Morris Jules Janin King Kinglake L'Ambert Lady Kate Lady Margaret laugh Lilias live look Lord Raglan Lovel madam Majesty matter mind Miss Angy morning Naples Napoleon never night old beau once Osbert Clinton palace Paris passed person Philip Pole Pont-Neuf Prince prisoner Prussian Queen rejoined remarked replied returned Rodomont round Salmour seemed sent side Sir Harry soon Sparkins Spike tell thee things thou thought Tintoretto Titian took Tower Traitor's Gate Trèves turned voice WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH words young
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Сторінка 54 - Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn, Nor ape the glittering upstart fool ; — Shall not carved tables serve my turn, But all must be of buhl ? Give grasping pomp its double share, — I ask but one recumbent chair. Thus humble let me live and die, Nor long for Midas...
Сторінка 359 - FAINT, delicious, spring-time violet! Thine odor, like a key, Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let A thought of sorrow free. The breath of distant fields upon my brow Blows through that open door The sound of wind-borne bells, more sweet and low, And sadder than of yore. It comes afar, from that beloved place, And that beloved hour, When life hung ripening in love's golden grace, Like grapes above a bower. A spring goes...
Сторінка 54 - Turner, and no more. (A landscape, foreground golden dirt, The sunshine painted with a squirt). Of books but few — some fifty score For daily use, and bound for wear; The rest upon an upper floor; Some little luxury there . Of red morocco's gilded gleam, And vellum rich as country cream.
Сторінка 361 - Which she used to wear in her breast. It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet, It made me creep, and it made me cold I Like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet Where a mummy is half unrolled.
Сторінка 134 - Where, as to shame the temples deck'd By skill of earthly architect, Nature herself, it seem'd would raise A Minster to her Maker's praise ! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still, between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, In varied tone prolong'd and high, That mocks the organ's melody.
Сторінка 244 - We must consider how very little history there is ; I mean real authentic history. (') That certain kings reigned, and certain battles were fought, we can depend upon as true ; but all the colouring, all the philosophy of history is conjecture.
Сторінка 138 - Presently he told her that the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. How green the banks were now, how bright the flowers growing on them, and how tall the rushes ! Now the boat was out at sea, but gliding smoothly on. And now there was a shore before him.
Сторінка 242 - ... and every day's experience confirms me in this historical incredulity. Do we ever hear the most recent fact related exactly in the same way, by the several people who were at the same time eyewitnesses of it? No. One mistakes, another misrepresents, and others warp it a little to their own turn of mind, or private views. A man who has been concerned in a transaction will not write it fairly ; and a man who has not, cannot.
Сторінка 141 - Growing and fading and growing, till I could bear it no more, But arose, and all by myself in my own dark garden ground, Listening now to the tide in its broad-flung shipwrecking roar, Now to the scream of a madden'd beach dragg'd down by the wave...
Сторінка 140 - Now the sea is often peopled, amidst its ravings, with what seem innumerable human voices — such voices, or as ominous, as what were heard by Kubla Khan — " ancestral voices prophesying war " ; oftentimes laughter mixes, from a distance (seeming to come also from distant times, as well as distant places), with the uproar of waters ; and doubtless shapes of fear, or shapes of beauty not less awful, are at times seen upon the waves by the diseased eye of the sailor, in other cases besides the somewhat...