Noetes Ambrosianæ, 2. kötetRedfield, 1854 |
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afore aiblins alang amang Ambrose ance aneath aneuch anither auld baith beautiful Beregonium Blackwood Blackwood's Magazine bless bonny Brougham Byron canna character chiel Christopher North Cockney creatures dear James dear Shepherd devil dinna doon dream Edinburgh Edinburgh Review eyes face feel frae gang gaun genius gentleman gien gran gude happy haud haun head hear heard heart heaven himsel Hogg ither John Watson Gordon kintra lassie leddies London look Lord Magazine maist maun micht Miss Gentle mony muckle Mullion mysel naething nane never North Odoherty ony thing ower Phrenologists poem poet poetry puir Scotland Shepherd sing song soul speak spirit sure tell thae thee thocht thou thousand Tickler verra weel Whig Wilson wull young yoursell
Népszerű szakaszok
viii. oldal - The sleeper's long-drawn breath. Instead of the murmur of the sea, The sailor heard the humming tree Alive through all its leaves, The hum of the spreading sycamore That grows before his cottage door, And the swallow's song in the eaves.
50. oldal - Our life is two-fold : Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence : Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being...
118. oldal - In a few minutes he returned, and crouched down with an air of mortification at my feet. North. Ho ! ho ! the fairies have spirited away your nether integuments ! Tickler. Not an article to be seen ! — save and except my Mioes ! Jacket, waistcoat, flannel-shirt, breeches, all melted away with the mountain-dew.
237. oldal - The vista'd joys of Heaven's eternal year : Weep not for her ! Weep not for her ! — Her memory is the shrine Of pleasant thoughts, soft as the scent of flowers, Calm as on windless eve the sun's decline, Sweet as the song of birds among the bowers, Rich as a rainbow with its hues of light, Pure as the moonshine of an autumn night : Weep not for her...
382. oldal - AT the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove...
127. oldal - Where now thy might, which all those kings subdued ? No martial myriads muster in thy gate ; No suppliant nations in thy temple wait : No...
336. oldal - Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
viii. oldal - Oh ! many a dream was in the ship An hour before her death ! And sights of home with sighs disturbed The sleeper's long-drawn breath.
xvi. oldal - Our pleasant follies are made the whips to scourge us,' as Lear says ; for otherwise what could possibly stand in the way of his nomination ? I trust it will take place, and give him the consistence and steadiness which are all he wants to make him the first man of the age.
247. oldal - The sun rises bright in France, And fair sets he; But he has tint the blythe blink he had In my ain countree.