The Eton Bureau, Edições 1-6Ingalton and Son, 1842 |
No interior do livro
Resultados 1-5 de 23
Página 8
... seemed like the wail of the guardian spirit of the family , portending some coming woe . Yet little recked the young lord Dacre , and his merry companions , of the storm without . They sat round the fire in the centre of the hall , and ...
... seemed like the wail of the guardian spirit of the family , portending some coming woe . Yet little recked the young lord Dacre , and his merry companions , of the storm without . They sat round the fire in the centre of the hall , and ...
Página 10
... seemed equally well pleased . In truth , such misconduct was but too common among the gallants of the day . " Well , " said lord Dacre , " since this gear likes you well , bid some servants prepare to follow us ; and , not to alarm my ...
... seemed equally well pleased . In truth , such misconduct was but too common among the gallants of the day . " Well , " said lord Dacre , " since this gear likes you well , bid some servants prepare to follow us ; and , not to alarm my ...
Página 33
... seemed scarcely to have recovered , the one from a spinal complaint , the other from the wounds of a red - hot poker . We were ushered into a newly - whitewashed room , cold and comfort- less ; for the wet coals literally threw a damp ...
... seemed scarcely to have recovered , the one from a spinal complaint , the other from the wounds of a red - hot poker . We were ushered into a newly - whitewashed room , cold and comfort- less ; for the wet coals literally threw a damp ...
Página 55
... seemed to roam , ' Twas ever strangely lothe to trace The way to its own resting place . ( 4. ) Such was the tale of mournful strain , Such the dark gift of heavy pain , The poor reluctant witness brought ; And thus was Periander taught ...
... seemed to roam , ' Twas ever strangely lothe to trace The way to its own resting place . ( 4. ) Such was the tale of mournful strain , Such the dark gift of heavy pain , The poor reluctant witness brought ; And thus was Periander taught ...
Página 75
... seemed to intimate that the writer had hardly made up his mind whether to drown himself in Barne's - pool , or inflict summary chastisement on un- offending me . 66 Gentle reader , pity me ; alas , too ETON BUREAU . 75.
... seemed to intimate that the writer had hardly made up his mind whether to drown himself in Barne's - pool , or inflict summary chastisement on un- offending me . 66 Gentle reader , pity me ; alas , too ETON BUREAU . 75.
Palavras e frases frequentes
Æneid Apollonius Rhodius barque beauty better breath bright Burton calm castle Catullus character charm child clouds dare dark dear death doth earth Eton Bureau Etonians evil eyes fair faith fancy fear feelings gaze gentle George Morland Georgics give grace grave Gwendolen hand happy hath heard heart heaven Herstmonceux holy honour hope King knew Ladon leave light live look Lord Byron Lord Dacre Lycophron Menedemus mind nature never night o'er once passed perhaps Phormio poet poor prayer Procles Puddletown readers round scarce scene scorn seemed shame shew shuffler sigh similes smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stream sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought told TOMMY GREEN truth Unterwalden verse Virgil waves wind Windsor Castle words write young youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 316 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Página 274 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Página 229 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things : There is no armour against fate : Death lays his icy hands on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Página 267 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Página 187 - Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Página 143 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth...
Página 265 - Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter*, more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
Página 335 - THE POET'S SONG. THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He pass'd by the town and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, And waves of shadow went over the wheat, And he sat him down in a lonely place, And chanted a melody loud and sweet, That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud, And the lark drop down at his feet.
Página 229 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom...
Página 114 - The youth, he cried, whom I exiled Shall be restored to woo her. She's at the window many an hour His coming to discover: And he look'd up to Ellen's bower And she look'd on her lover — But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwelling — And am I then forgot — forgot? It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Her...