The British Quarterly Review, 23. kötet

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Henry Allon
Hodder and Stoughton, 1856

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200. oldal - For they themselves shew of us what manner of entering in we had unto you, and how ye turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God ; and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come.
481. oldal - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean, Angels of rain and lightning! there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, ev'n from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height — The locks of the approaching storm.
198. oldal - Now concerning virgins I have no commandment of the Lord : yet I give my judgment, as one that hath obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful.
103. oldal - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things ; There is no armour against fate ; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
84. oldal - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch*. When owls do cry, '} \ On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
171. oldal - As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood.
87. oldal - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired' be. Is she kind as she is fair ? For beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, inhabits there.
162. oldal - Houses in four straight lines, not a single front awry; You watch who crosses and gossips, who saunters, who hurries by; Green blinds, as a matter of course, to draw when the sun gets high; And the shops with fanciful signs which are painted properly. What of a villa? Though winter be over in March by rights, 'Tis May perhaps ere the...
100. oldal - Samela Like to Diana in her summer weed, Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, Goes fair Samela ; Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed, When washed by Arethusa faint they lie, Is fair Samela; As fair Aurora in her morning...
84. oldal - Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights, Wherein you spend your folly : There's nought in this life sweet If man were wise to see't, But only melancholy, O sweetest Melancholy...

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