The Midland magazine and monthly review, ed. by J.J. Britton & J.N. Smith. [Continued as] The Midland-metropolitan magazine. Vol.1, no.1 - vol.2 [no.1. Vol.2, no.1 wants all before p.9]. |
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Стр. 13
... seemed overpowered by my means of attack , he took my hand in his , and looking me stedfastly in the face , broke forth in the following ejaculation , - " Horace Furbelle , you are young . " I was aware of the painful fact ...
... seemed overpowered by my means of attack , he took my hand in his , and looking me stedfastly in the face , broke forth in the following ejaculation , - " Horace Furbelle , you are young . " I was aware of the painful fact ...
Стр. 17
... seemed to be his element , when , by incurring it , he could in aught protect the sacred cause , and often in moments of critical peril , his loud cry , uttered in the extremity of anguish , " Save or die for fatherland ! " turned the ...
... seemed to be his element , when , by incurring it , he could in aught protect the sacred cause , and often in moments of critical peril , his loud cry , uttered in the extremity of anguish , " Save or die for fatherland ! " turned the ...
Стр. 30
... seemed away With the young lovers in loving ; With the young children in play , With the glad band of the rustics , Sharing the rude country food ; Out of the stout russet bottles , Out of the platters of wood . Nay ! she e'en envied ...
... seemed away With the young lovers in loving ; With the young children in play , With the glad band of the rustics , Sharing the rude country food ; Out of the stout russet bottles , Out of the platters of wood . Nay ! she e'en envied ...
Стр. 34
... seeméd , Full of sweet unhuman accents , From its lips to spring . Love me not ! yet not despise me , For the ills that are my children ! ' Twas not ever so . As the mud , on soles plebeian , By their rugged nails empaléd , Spots the ...
... seeméd , Full of sweet unhuman accents , From its lips to spring . Love me not ! yet not despise me , For the ills that are my children ! ' Twas not ever so . As the mud , on soles plebeian , By their rugged nails empaléd , Spots the ...
Стр. 90
... seemed to set to music the secret apprehensions that only waited such an utterance . - It was barely nine o'clock , but the uniformly regular and domestic habits of the man , made his absence even at that early hour the ground of some ...
... seemed to set to music the secret apprehensions that only waited such an utterance . - It was barely nine o'clock , but the uniformly regular and domestic habits of the man , made his absence even at that early hour the ground of some ...
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ancient Anglo-Saxon appear beautiful bosom Brancrust bright Britons Buggins called Ceridwen Christian Cimmerian clouds dark dear deep divine dream Druidism Druids earth Eastbourne Egypt England eyes face fancy father feel Fleecington flowers Franziskus Gaul gaze Genii girl give glory Golden Legend Grouseland hand happy heard heart heaven hope human Japhet Julius Cæsar labour lady land leave light lips living London look Macedon mind moral morning mother nature never night noble o'er Ogham passed perhaps Persians Phoenician poem poet poetry poor portmanteau present race readers Rosa round Saxon seemed shadow Shakespeare smile Sniggers Socrates song soul spirit stept strange sweet tears tell thee things thou thought Tingwall tion Tom's true truth turn Tynwald voice walk Whibbleton Whibby Widget Winnegar wonder words young
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 167 - He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true warfaring Christian.
Стр. 76 - Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee : Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Стр. 27 - Look on this spot — a nation's sepulchre ! Abode of gods, whose shrines no longer burn. Even gods must yield — religions take their turn : 'Twas Jove's — 'tis Mahomet's — and other creeds Will rise with other years, till man shall learn Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds; Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on reeds.
Стр. 66 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ; You common people of the skies ; What are you when the moon shall rise?
Стр. 76 - And, pr'ythee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to Heaven, is all I dare now call my own.
Стр. 66 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ; What are you when the rose is blown ? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not design'd Th...
Стр. 102 - The path of duty was the way to glory: He, that ever following her commands, On with toil of heart and knees and hands, Thro...
Стр. 181 - Keep not standing fixed and rooted, Briskly venture, briskly roam ; Head and hand, where'er thou foot it, And stout heart are still at home. " In what land the sun does visit, Brisk are we, whate'er betide : To give space for wandering is it That the world was made so wide.
Стр. 245 - Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.