The Cornhill Magazine, 3-4. kötet;77. kötetWilliam Makepeace Thackeray Smith, Elder and Company, 1898 |
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army asked battle beautiful Blake Blake's boat breakfast British called captain Carruthers Corunna Cremona cried dear dinner door Dyea E. V. LUCAS Elizabeth Barrett Browning England English eyes face feeling fight fire fish Fishwick fleet French gentleman girl give Goring Grammel guns hand head hear heard heart honour horses hour knew Lady Dunborough Lake Bennett Lamb leave Lee-Carson letter Lewis Carroll light live London looked Lord Lynn Canal Madame Lafarge matter miles mind Miss Barrett Miss Mitford morning Napoleon never night once Orizaba passed perhaps poems poet red mullet Robert Lloyd round seemed servants ship side Skagway smile Soane soldiers sonnets Soult Southampton Spain squadron stood story tell thing Thomasson thought Threlkeld told took turned verse voice whole wife woman word young Yukon
Népszerű szakaszok
548. oldal - O, that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come ! But it sufficeth, that the day will end, And then the end is known.
489. oldal - THE love I dedicate to your Lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours, what I have to do is yours ; being part in all I have, devoted yours.
21. oldal - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone ! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle ; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile.
1. oldal - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
490. oldal - O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: 'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought, To march in ranks of better equipage: But since he died, and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.
15. oldal - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
145. oldal - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
26. oldal - Less wretched now, and one day free ; He, too, who yet had held untired A spirit natural or inspired — He, too, was struck, and day by day Was wither'd on the stalk away.
1. oldal - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
19. oldal - Thou art a symbol and a sign To Mortals of their fate and force ; Like thee, Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source ; And Man in portions can foresee His own funereal destiny...