The Atlantic Monthly, Том 20Atlantic Monthly Company, 1867 |
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Страница 7
... turned a corner . She looked wonderfully lively and rosy , for the weather was getting keen and the frosts had begun to bite . A young gentleman was walking at her side , and reading to her from a paper he held in his hand . Both looked ...
... turned a corner . She looked wonderfully lively and rosy , for the weather was getting keen and the frosts had begun to bite . A young gentleman was walking at her side , and reading to her from a paper he held in his hand . Both looked ...
Страница 15
... turned white with horror at the spectacle of the senior Deacon of his church sitting , open - mouthed and wide - eyed , absorbed in the pages of " Ivanhoe , " which he found enormously interesting ; but , so far as he had yet read , not ...
... turned white with horror at the spectacle of the senior Deacon of his church sitting , open - mouthed and wide - eyed , absorbed in the pages of " Ivanhoe , " which he found enormously interesting ; but , so far as he had yet read , not ...
Страница 18
... turned into it by a sort of instinct , the more readily as I saw a tourist - looking man approaching from that point , and a woman looking among the gravestones . Both of these persons had gone by the time I came up , so that Julian and ...
... turned into it by a sort of instinct , the more readily as I saw a tourist - looking man approaching from that point , and a woman looking among the gravestones . Both of these persons had gone by the time I came up , so that Julian and ...
Страница 20
... turned back , en- tered the inn , and , following the mis- tress into a snug little room , was served with a glass of bitter ale . It is a very plain and homely inn , and certainly could not have satisfied Scott's wants , if he had ...
... turned back , en- tered the inn , and , following the mis- tress into a snug little room , was served with a glass of bitter ale . It is a very plain and homely inn , and certainly could not have satisfied Scott's wants , if he had ...
Страница 27
... turned barefoot in the spring . The work of the heroes is play to us ; the pang of the martyr is a thrill of rapture ; the exile's longing is a strain of plaintive music touch- ing and delighting us . We are not only young 1867. ] 27 At ...
... turned barefoot in the spring . The work of the heroes is play to us ; the pang of the martyr is a thrill of rapture ; the exile's longing is a strain of plaintive music touch- ing and delighting us . We are not only young 1867. ] 27 At ...
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Страница 184 - Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me. If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
Страница 579 - I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame.
Страница 370 - Sadly, but not with upbraiding, The generous deed was done, In the storm of the years that are fading, No braver battle was won . Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Under the blossoms, the Blue, Under the garlands, the Gray.
Страница 369 - BY the flow of the inland river, Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver, Asleep are the ranks of the dead ; — Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day ; — Under the one, the Blue ; Under the other, the Gray.
Страница 48 - While fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
Страница 278 - Westward the course of empire takes its way, The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day : Time's noblest offspring is the last.
Страница 579 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent.
Страница 179 - Shakespeare's poems the creative power and the intellectual energy wrestle as in a war embrace. Each in its excess of strength seems to threaten the extinction of the other. At length in the drama they were reconciled, and fought each with its shield before the breast of the other.
Страница 180 - Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir ; Give me a gash, put me to present pain ; Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me, O'erbear the shores of my mortality, And drown me with their sweetness.
Страница 377 - In an age of fops and toys, Wanting wisdom, void of right, *° Who shall nerve heroic boys To hazard all in Freedom's fight, — Break sharply off their jolly games, Forsake their comrades gay And quit proud homes and youthful dames For famine, toil and fray?