The Quarterly Review

Első borító
William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle)
John Murray, 1812

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188. oldal - Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow? By their right arms the conquest must be wrought? Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? no!
195. oldal - Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall, Its chambers desolate, and portals foul: Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall, The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul...
156. oldal - And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt.
293. oldal - who should teach them all things, and bring all things to their remembrance whatsoever he had said unto them...
378. oldal - LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. OH ! the days are gone, when Beauty bright My heart's chain wove ; When my dream of life from morn till night Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come Of milder, calmer beam, But there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream : No, there's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.
378. oldal - No ; — life is a waste of wearisome hours, Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns ; And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers. Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
377. oldal - On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays, When the clear, cold eve's declining, He sees the round towers of other days, In the wave beneath him shining! Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime, Catch a glimpse of the days that are over, Thus, sighing, look through the waves of time For the long-faded glories they cover!
194. oldal - Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.
48. oldal - A part how small of the terraqueous globe Is tenanted by man? the rest a waste; Rocks, deserts, frozen seas, and burning sands! Wild haunts of monsters, poisons, stings, and death Such is earth's melancholy map! but, far 'More sad! this earth is a true map of man: So bounded are its haughty lord's delights To woe's wide empire, where deep troubles toss.
98. oldal - But and if thou marry, thou hast not sinned; and if a virgin marry, she hath not sinned, Nevertheless such shall have trouble in the flesh : but I spare you.

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