The Cornhill Magazine, 11–12 tomai;85 tomasWilliam Makepeace Thackeray Smith, Elder and Company, 1902 |
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Cornhill Magazine, 9–10 tomai;83 tomas;1901 tomas William Makepeace Thackeray Visos knygos peržiūra - 1901 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
A. E. W. MASON Adair Airey Newton answer ANTHONY HOPE Arty Kane asked Barmouth Barracouta Bath Beaufort Chance Berber birds Bonfill Bumpstead Calder called colour Connie course dear delight dinner door Durrance Durrance's English Ethne eyes face father feel Fricker girl give hand Harry Feversham head heard honour humour Julius Cæsar Keppel knew Lady Blixworth laughed Leodius letter Lieutenant Sutch live London looked Madame Madame de Maintenon Madame de Montespan Marie Antoinette McKinnon Mervyn mind Miss Bracy morning never night once Peggy perhaps person play poet Queen Ramelton regiment remember round seemed Selina smile sonnets Sophie Arnould Suakin sure talk tell Thackeray thing thought told Tommy took Trix Trevalla turned verse voice Wadi Halfa woman words wrote XII.-NO Yoshomai young
Populiarios ištraukos
639 psl. - I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think of God, I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So a' bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.
477 psl. - And he stayed yet other seven days; and again he sent forth the dove out of the ark; and the dove came in to him in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth.
348 psl. - Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air, Queens have died young and fair, Dust hath closed Helen's eye.
259 psl. - Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
639 psl. - Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of • it. Honour is a mere scutcheon : and so ends my catechism.
480 psl. - MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk : Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
480 psl. - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home...
259 psl. - ... withering, as thy sweet self grow'st. If Nature (sovereign mistress over wrack) As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back, She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill. Yet fear her O thou minion of her pleasure, She may detain, but not still keep her treasure! Her audit (though delayed) answered must be, And her quietus is to render thee.
24 psl. - ON the library wall of one of the most famous writers of America, there hang two crossed swords, which his relatives wore in the great War of Independence. The one sword was gallantly drawn in the service of the king, the other was the weapon of a brave and honoured republican soldier. The possessor of the harmless trophy has earned for himself a name alike honoured in his ancestors' country and his own, where genius such as his has always a peaceful welcome.
250 psl. - ALAS ! how do I every moment feel the truth of what I have somewhere read, " Ce n'est pas le voir, que de s'en souvenir ;" and yet that remembrance is the only satisfaction I have left. My life now is but a perpetual conversation with your shadow...