Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, 23. kötet

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W. Blackwood, 1828
 

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178. oldal - So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing.
37. oldal - No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never!
178. oldal - Would he were fatter ; but I fear him not : Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no music...
578. oldal - For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
364. oldal - The man who proceeds in it with steadiness and resolution, -will in a little time find that ' her ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are peace.
5. oldal - Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
344. oldal - Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land.
375. oldal - Our manner of life was this. Lord Byron, who used to sit up at night, writing Don Juan (which he did under the influence of gin and water), rose late in the morning. He breakfasted ; read ; lounged about, singing an air, generally out of Rossini, and in a swaggering style, though in a voice at once small and veiled...
397. oldal - ... ask, To see how this cockney-bred setter of rabbits Takes gravely the lord of the forest to task, And judges of lions by puppy-dog habits. ' Nay, fed as he was (and this makes it a dark case) With sops every day from the lion's own pan, He lifts up his leg at the noble beast's carcass, And — does all a dog, so diminutive, can.
396. oldal - Lives" are the rage) The whole Reminiscences, wond'rous and strange, Of a small puppy-dog, that liv'd once in the cage Of the late noble Lion at Exeter 'Change. Though the dog is a dog of the kind they call

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