The London Magazine, Volume 6

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Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, 1826
 

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Página 96 - And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost: Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them ; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained.
Página 172 - My joy was in the Wilderness, to breathe The difficult air of the iced mountain's top, Where the birds dare not build, nor insect's wing Flit o'er the herbless granite...
Página 310 - ... with each other; to make them meet in rapture and part in agony; to fill their mouths with hyperbolical joy and outrageous sorrow...
Página 585 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes...
Página 444 - The Bishop of Durham readily answered, ' God forbid, Sir, but you should. You are the breath of our nostrils.' Whereupon the King turned and said to the Bishop of Winchester, 'Well, my lord, what say you ? ' ' Sir/ replied the Bishop, ' I have no skill to judge of Parliamentary cases." The King answered, ' No put-offs, my lord ; answer me presently.
Página 499 - I've no feet— some other man Is standing in my shoes! "I wish I ne'er had seen your face; But, now, a long farewell! For you will be my death ; — alas ! You will not be my Nell!
Página 134 - I was assailed by one cry of reproach, disapprobation, and even detestation; English, Scotch, and Irish, whig and tory, churchman and sectary, freethinker and religionist, patriot and courtier, united in their rage against the man who had presumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of Charles I. and the Earl of Strafford...
Página 16 - And ever against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Página 475 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Página 234 - ... the whole region becomes a luxuriant wood of enormous thistles, which have suddenly shot up to a height of ten or eleven feet, and are all in full bloom. The road or path is hemmed in on both sides ; the view is completely obstructed ; not an animal is to be seen ; and the stems of the thistles are so close to each other, and so strong, that, independent of the prickles with which they are armed, they form an impenetrable barrier.

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