Transactions of the Royal Society of New Zealand, Volumen42

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Royal Society of New Zealand., 1910
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Includes proceedings of member institutes of the Society and of the Society's Science Congress through v. 84, 1956/57.
 

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Página 486 - But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that 'Caesar'? Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
Página 478 - FAIR stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Página 506 - Etrurian shades High overarched embower; or scattered sedge Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed Hath vexed the Red Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew Busiris and his Memphian chivalry.
Página 469 - And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures...
Página 117 - Be it enacted by the General Assembly of New Zealand, in Parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same, as follows: 1. The short title of this Act is "The Industrial Conciliation and Arbitration Act, 1894.
Página 485 - THE young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove, While the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Then awake ! — the heavens look bright, my dear, Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear...
Página 511 - Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; Stop up...
Página 478 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright.
Página 497 - Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ; I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry : 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.
Página 511 - You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!

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