Prose and Verse, Volumen1Wiley and Putnam, 1845 |
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Resultados 1-5 de 49
Página ix
... sense of justice , require the recognition , on our statute book , of the rights of the foreign author . The present system has reached that point in the develop- ment of evil where a wrong being committed , every one suffers , no one ...
... sense of justice , require the recognition , on our statute book , of the rights of the foreign author . The present system has reached that point in the develop- ment of evil where a wrong being committed , every one suffers , no one ...
Página 15
... and directions , but trust more to nature and common sense . For instance , in fatting a goose , reason points to sage and onions , -why our own don't thrive on it , is very mysterious . We have THE PUGSLEY PAPERS . 15.
... and directions , but trust more to nature and common sense . For instance , in fatting a goose , reason points to sage and onions , -why our own don't thrive on it , is very mysterious . We have THE PUGSLEY PAPERS . 15.
Página 24
... sense within the slain ! But when I touched the lifeless clay , The blood gushed out amain ! For every clot , a burning spot Was scorching in my brain ! My head was like an ardent coal , My heart was solid ice ; My wretched , wretched ...
... sense within the slain ! But when I touched the lifeless clay , The blood gushed out amain ! For every clot , a burning spot Was scorching in my brain ! My head was like an ardent coal , My heart was solid ice ; My wretched , wretched ...
Página 31
... on discovering that the Moor had mur- dered her mistress , was scarcely greater than that of Miss Morbid ! She hardly , she said , believed her own senses . You She did not know She was rooted to might have BLACK , WHITE , AND BROWN . 31.
... on discovering that the Moor had mur- dered her mistress , was scarcely greater than that of Miss Morbid ! She hardly , she said , believed her own senses . You She did not know She was rooted to might have BLACK , WHITE , AND BROWN . 31.
Página 37
... sense of the profit and loss , as if the pack had turned you into a pedlar . But I am digressing ; and turning my back , as Lord Castle- reagh would have said , on my face . The portrait , then , is gen- uine " an ill - favored thing ...
... sense of the profit and loss , as if the pack had turned you into a pedlar . But I am digressing ; and turning my back , as Lord Castle- reagh would have said , on my face . The portrait , then , is gen- uine " an ill - favored thing ...
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Términos y frases comunes
American amongst autograph boys bread burning called Charles Lamb common Cornelius Mathews course Dame dead deaf dear door double dream English Eugene Aram eyes face fancy fear feel fire gentleman give gold Gold Sticks Golden Leg green hand head hear heart hope horse housis human interest labor lady Lamb letter light limb Lincolnshire literary literature living London look Lord Lord Byron mesmerism mind Miss Kilmansegg moral nature never night once Otto of Roses perhaps persons pigs Poet poor precious PUGSLEY Quaker remember seems Serjeant Talfourd short Sir Jacob Sir Walter Scott song sort soul sound spirit There's thing THOMAS HOOD tion tree Trumpet truth turn Twas voice walk Whigs whilst whisper whole witch write young yure
Pasajes populares
Página 210 - Work - work work Till the brain begins to swim! Work - work - work Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam , and gusset , and band , Band , and gusset , and seam , Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! "O men with sisters dear! O men with mothers and wives! It is not linen you're wearing out , But human creatures
Página 202 - Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Loving, not loathing. Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully, Gently and humanly; Not of the stains of her, All that remains of her Now is pure womanly. Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiny Rash and undutiful: Past all dishonour Death has left on her Only the beautiful.
Página 210 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread, — Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger and dirt; And still with a voice of dolorous pitch — Would that its tone could reach the rich ! — She sang the
Página 23 - And, long since then, of bloody men Whose deeds tradition saves; Of lonely folk cut off unseen, And hid in sudden graves ; Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves ; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod...
Página 130 - O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear ; A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted!
Página 134 - For over all there hung a cloud of fear, A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, And said, as plain as whisper in the ear, The place is Haunted ! PART III.
Página 181 - ... been a beauteous dream, If it had been no more ! Alas, alas, fair Ines, She went away with song ; With Music waiting on her steps, And shoutings of the throng. But some were sad and felt no mirth, But only Music's wrong, In sounds that sang Farewell, Farewell, To her you've loved so long. Farewell, farewell, fair Ines, That vessel never bore So fair a lady on its deck, Nor danced so light before, — Alas for pleasure on the sea, And sorrow on the shore ! The smile that blest one lover's heart...
Página 43 - Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of mine to be a progeny of learning. I don't think so much learning becomes a young woman. For instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning; neither would it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolical instruments.
Página 24 - And now, from forth the frowning sky, From the heaven's topmost height, I heard a voice — the awful voice Of the blood-avenging sprite: 'Thou guilty man! take up thy dead, And hide it from my sight...
Página 205 - Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair! Ere her limbs frigidly Stiffen too rigidly, Decently, — kindly, — Smooth, and compose them; And her eyes, close them, Staring so blindly! Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, As when with the daring Last look of despairing Fixed on futurity. Perishing gloomily, Spurred by contumely, Cold inhumanity, Burning insanity, Into her rest, — Cross her hands humbly, As if praying dumbly, Over her breast! Owning her weakness, Her evil behaviour, And leaving,...