Sharpe's London magazine, a journal of entertainment and instruction. [entitled] Sharpe's London journal. [entitled] Sharpe's London magazine, conducted by mrs. S.C. Hall, Volumes 30-31Anna Maria Hall |
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Página 3
... poor worn knew that in his beautiful little cottage at cheeks with paint and rouge till , in the distance , Bayswater the manager of the Thespian kept they look like blooming beauties - of exposing an old , infirm father and two sisters ...
... poor worn knew that in his beautiful little cottage at cheeks with paint and rouge till , in the distance , Bayswater the manager of the Thespian kept they look like blooming beauties - of exposing an old , infirm father and two sisters ...
Página 5
... poor , friend- less man , without a soul to turn to for advice . What I was going to say is , that I and my sis- ters would be exceedingly glad to see you at Bayswater , where we live ; and if we can do anything to alleviate your sorrow ...
... poor , friend- less man , without a soul to turn to for advice . What I was going to say is , that I and my sis- ters would be exceedingly glad to see you at Bayswater , where we live ; and if we can do anything to alleviate your sorrow ...
Página 11
... poor soul , he was very like that Barzillai , the Gileadite , and he might have well echoed the veteran's mournful plaint : " I am this day fourscore years old , and can I discern between good and evil ? can thy servant taste what I eat ...
... poor soul , he was very like that Barzillai , the Gileadite , and he might have well echoed the veteran's mournful plaint : " I am this day fourscore years old , and can I discern between good and evil ? can thy servant taste what I eat ...
Página 13
... Poor creater ! " said a motherly - looking woman , " she must ' ave ' ad a sight of trouble to look like that . Did you notice , Mrs. ' Arris , how her poor face was all lined , like ? I don't believe as it was all hacting , myself . I ...
... Poor creater ! " said a motherly - looking woman , " she must ' ave ' ad a sight of trouble to look like that . Did you notice , Mrs. ' Arris , how her poor face was all lined , like ? I don't believe as it was all hacting , myself . I ...
Página 16
... poor weary Atlas , a sphere upon its back . Thus the coy creatures play cup and ball , and one has lost its plaything yonder , as the branch slightly stirs , and the whole vanishes in a whirl of snow . Meanwhile a fragment of low arbor ...
... poor weary Atlas , a sphere upon its back . Thus the coy creatures play cup and ball , and one has lost its plaything yonder , as the branch slightly stirs , and the whole vanishes in a whirl of snow . Meanwhile a fragment of low arbor ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
Palavras e frases frequentes
amongst Ashton Court asked beautiful better called Charlemagne chignon child Condino crochet dark dear door dress écarté Eginhard eyes face fancy Faust feeling feet fell fellow fire flowers Fort Adams Fouquet France garden gentlemen girl give Grafton Grantley hair hand happy head hear heard heart honour hope Horace Walpole hour husband King knew ladies Lamasery Lardaro laugh leave Leitus light lived London look marriage ment mind Miss Molière Monsieur morning mother Myra Nathalie never night Nolan once PAPA passed Philip Miller Philip Nolan play pleasant poor racter round scene seemed seen side smile song soon sorrow stitch Storo story streets Surintendant talk tell thing thought tion told Tom Sexton trees turned TUXFORD voice walk weary wife woman wonder words young
Passagens conhecidas
Página 44 - Bring me my Bow of burning gold : Bring me my Arrows of desire : Bring me my Spear : O clouds unfold ! Bring me my Chariot of fire. I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant Land.
Página 46 - Marlowe, bathed in the Thespian springs, Had in him those brave translunary things That the first poets had; his raptures were All air and fire, which made his verses clear, For that fine madness still he did retain Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.
Página 82 - Tis the Spring's largess, which she scatters now To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand, Though most hearts never understand To take it at God's value, but pass by The offered wealth with unrewarded eye.
Página 69 - Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Página 91 - But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.
Página 145 - And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home...
Página 86 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand?
Página 86 - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Página 82 - Then think I of deep shadows on the grass, Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze, Where, as the breezes pass, The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways, Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass, Or whiten in the wind, of waters blue That from the distance sparkle through Some woodland gap, and of a sky above, Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move.
Página 145 - The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer glow; But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sun-flower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen.