The Argosy, 23. kötetMrs. Henry Wood, Charles William Wood Strahan & Company, 1877 A magazine of tales, travels, essays, and poems. |
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Alice Alkmaar Amsterdam answered asked beautiful Beckton Bergheim better Bruce Burgomaster Captain Foliott Carroll child cried curaçoa dark dear door Dutch Edith Elam eyes face Gabriel girl Grace Haarlem hand Hannaford Hartley head heard heart Helen Helen Ford Helen Whitney Holland hope Jack Jane Cross Jermyn Joel Johnny Katarina knew laughed Laura Leafchild leave light look Louise Lucy Maria marriage Martin Matilda matter Mignonne mind Miss Kerr Miss Leicester Monnickendam morning mother never night once Orsini Owen perhaps Petrarch poor pretty round Saltwater schiedam seemed siege of Haarlem Sir Jesse Sir John sister smile Squire stood Strahan sure table d'hôte talk tell Teresita Thérèse thing Thomas Owen thought told took town turned voice waiting Whitney window Winterhalter wish woman wonder word young lady Zaandam
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392. oldal - A fire devoureth before them; and behind them a flame burneth: the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape them.
142. oldal - Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain ; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain : I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. ' Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be: Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me.
120. oldal - But — don't you know where she is?" " No, I don't sir. I wish I did. It was said that she came up to take a situation in London, and perhaps she is still in it. But London's a large place, I don't know what part of it she was in, and one might as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay.
382. oldal - And we too— will it not be soft and kind, That rest from life, from patience and from pain, That rest from bliss we know not when we find, That rest from Love which ne'er the end can gain?— — Hark, how the tune swells, that erewhile did wane! Look up, love!— ah, cling close and never move! How can I have enough of life and love?
133. oldal - The stairs themselves were completely lighted by a large window, halfway up the flight. The prince came from the dining-room, and began leisurely to ascend. He had only reached the second stair, when a man emerged from the sunken arch, and, standing within a foot or two of him, discharged a pistol full at his heart. Three balls entered his body, one of which, passing quite through him, struck with violence against the wall beyond. The prince exclaimed in French, as he felt the wound, "O my God, have...
133. oldal - His master of the horse, Jacob van Maldere, had caught him in his arms as the fatal shot was fired. The Prince was then placed on the stairs for an instant, when he immediately began to swoon. He was...
133. oldal - Tuesday, the roth of July, 1584, at about half-past twelve, the prince, with his wife on his arm, and followed by the ladies and gentlemen of his family, was going to the dining-room. William the Silent was dressed upon that day, according to his usual custom, in very plain fashion. He wore a wide-leaved, loosely-shaped hat of dark felt, with a silken cord round the crown — such as had been worn by the Beggars in the early days of the revolt.
461. oldal - Neath whispering leaves his rosy children gather In the grey hamlet's simple place of craves, Bound the low tomb where sleeps his white-haired father, Far from the noise of waves. There shall be no more sea, no surges sweeping O'er love and youth, and childhood's sunny hair. Naught of decay and change, nor voice of weeping Ruffle the fragrant air. Of that fair land within whose pearly portal The golden light falls soft on fount and tree ; Vexed by no tempest, stretch those shores immortal Where there...
28. oldal - This conversation, and the Squire's planning-out, arose through a letter we had just received from Mary Blair — poor Blair's widow, if you have not forgotten him, who went to his end through that gazette of Jerry's. After a few ups and downs, trying at this thing for a living, trying at that, Mrs. Blair had now settled in a house at the seaside and opened a day-school. She hoped to get on in it in time, she wrote, especially if she could be so fortunate as to let her drawing-room to visitors. The...
142. oldal - Sweet is true love though given in vain, in vain; And sweet is death who puts an end to pain: I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 'Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be: Love, thou art bitter; sweet is death to me. 0 Love, if death be sweeter, let me die.