Spirit of the English Magazines, 13. kötetMunroe and Francis, 1823 |
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165. oldal - BEFORE the starry threshold of Jove's court My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth...
81. oldal - Ines had always, for me, an inexpressible charm : O saw ye not fair Ines ? She's gone into the West, To dazzle when the sun is down. And rob the world of rest : She took our daylight with her, The smiles that we love best, With morning blushes on her cheek, And pearls upon her breast.
483. oldal - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
396. oldal - Seven days shall ye eat unleavened bread ; even the first day ye shall put away leaven out of your houses : for whosoever eateth leavened bread from the first day until the seventh day, that soul shall be cut off from Israel.
425. oldal - A stranger yet to pain ? I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
268. oldal - From the night-bird's lay through the starry time, In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime ; To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks. From...
398. oldal - After getting through these passages, some of them two or three hundred yards long, you generally find a more commodious place, perhaps high enough to sit. But what a place of rest! Surrounded by bodies, by heaps of mummies in all directions; which, previous to my being accustomed to the sight, impressed me with horror. The blackness of the wall, the faint light given by the candles or torches for want of air, the different objects that surrounded me...
268. oldal - Come forth, O ye children of gladness ! come ! Where the violets lie may be now your home. Ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ! With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine — I may not stay.
278. oldal - Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins : thy neck is as a tower of ivory. Thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bath-rabbim : thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.
398. oldal - ... with horror. The blackness of the wall, the faint light given by the candles or torches for want of air, the different objects that surrounded me, seeming to converse with each other, and the Arabs with the candles or torches in their hands, naked and covered with dust, themselves resembling living mummies, absolutely formed a scene that cannot be described.