The Gentleman's Magazine, 1. rész

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Bradbury, Evans, 1896
 

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568. oldal - Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Old time is still a,flying: And this same flower that smiles to,day To,morrow will be dying.
227. oldal - ... a custom loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fume thereof, nearest resembling the horrible Stygian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.
570. oldal - BID me to live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be ; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee. A heart as soft, a heart as kind, A heart as sound and free, As in the whole world thou canst find, That heart I'll give to thee. Bid that heart stay, and it will stay, To honour thy decree ; Or bid it languish quite away, And 't shall do so for thee.
368. oldal - The letter, as I live, with all the business I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell ! I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness : And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more.
79. oldal - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
12. oldal - Let the Turks now carry away their abuses in the only possible manner, namely by carrying off themselves. Their Zaptiehs and their Mudirs, their Bimbashis and their Yuzbachis, their Kaimakams and their Pashas, one and all, bag and baggage, shall, I hope, clear out from the province they have desolated and profaned.
572. oldal - When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown'd in sleep, Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
81. oldal - The noble heart that harbours virtuous thought, And is with child of glorious great intent, Can never rest until it forth have brought Th' eternal brood of glory excellent.
570. oldal - Speak, whimpering younglings, and make known The reason why Ye droop and weep. Is it for want of sleep? Or childish lullaby? Or that ye have not seen as yet
143. oldal - Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn ; So thick a drop serene hath quencht their Orbs, Or dim suffusion veild. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt...

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