New Monthly Magazine, כרך 113

כריכה קדמית
Henry Colburn, 1858

מתוך הספר

מה אומרים אנשים - כתיבת ביקורת

לא מצאנו ביקורות במקומות הרגילים

מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל

מונחים וביטויים נפוצים

קטעים בולטים

עמוד 464 - Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out the heavens with a span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance...
עמוד 201 - If spring's voluptuous pantings when she breathes Her first sweet kisses, have been dear to me; If no bright bird, insect, or gentle beast I consciously have injured, but still loved And cherished these my kindred; then forgive This boast, beloved brethren, and withdraw No portion of your wonted favour now!
עמוד 199 - Fill, pause by pause, my own forgotten sleep With shapes. Methought among the lawns together We wandered, underneath the young gray dawn. And multitudes of dense white fleecy clouds Were wandering in thick flocks along the mountains, Shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind...
עמוד 197 - Behold the merry minstrels of the morn, The swarming songsters of the careless grove, Ten thousand throats that, from the flowering thorn, Hymn their good God and carol sweet of love, Such grateful kindly raptures them emove!
עמוד 196 - And vacant shepherds piping in the dale: And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves 'plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep: Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
עמוד 203 - By Nature ; by the turbulence subdued Of his own mind; by mystery and hope, And the first virgin passion of a soul Communing with the glorious universe.
עמוד 200 - Against the winter's cold? And the plain ox, That harmless, honest, guileless animal, In what has he offended ? he, whose toil, Patient and ever ready, clothes the land With all the pomp of harvest; shall he bleed, And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands Even of the clown he feeds ? and that, perhaps, To swell the riot of th...
עמוד 93 - Death is the veil which those who live call life: They sleep, and it is lifted...
עמוד 198 - He liked the verdant hills and flowery plains: Be this my great, my chosen isle, (he cries) This, whilst my labours Liberty sustains, This queen of ocean all assault disdains.
עמוד 203 - Through which Aurora fhews her brightening face; You cannot bar my conftant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living ftream, at eve: Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reafon, virtue, nought can me bereave.

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