Temple Bar, 103 tomas

Priekinis viršelis
George Augustus Sala, Edmund Yates
Ward and Lock, 1894
 

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Populiarios ištraukos

197 psl. - Where no misgiving is, rely Upon the genial sense of youth: Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot; Who do thy work, and know it not: Oh!
244 psl. - Slay my two sons, if I bring him not to thee: deliver him into my hand, and I will bring him to thee again. And he said, My son shall not go down with you; for his brother is dead, and he is left alone: if mischief befall him by the way in the which ye go, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.
31 psl. - Three poets in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn; The first in loftiness of thought surpassed, The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go, To make a third she joined the former two.
467 psl. - When Anacreon would fight, as the poets have said, A reverse he displayed in his vapour, For while all his poems were loaded with lead, His pistols were loaded with paper; For excuses, Anacreon old custom may thank, Such a salvo he should not abuse, For the cartridge, by rule, is always made blank Which is fired away at Reviews.
25 psl. - For though the poet's matter nature be His art doth give the fashion : and, that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat, (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses...
575 psl. - The blood replenished me again; My last thought was at least not vain: I and my mistress, side by side Shall be together, breathe and ride, So, one day more am I deified. Who knows but the world may end to-night?
359 psl. - I thought to myself I would offer this book to you, This, and my love together, To you that are seventy-seven, With a faith as clear as the heights of the Juneblue heaven, And a fancy as summer-new As the green of the bracken amid the gloom of the heather.
82 psl. - Oh, the little more, and how much it is! And the little less, and what worlds away! How a sound shall quicken content to bliss, Or a breath suspend the blood's best play, And life be a proof of this!
40 psl. - EVENING ! as slow thy placid shades descend, Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still, The lonely battlement, the farthest hill And wood, I think of those who have no friend ; Who now, perhaps, by melancholy led, From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts, Retiring, wander to the ring-dove's haunts Unseen ; and watch the tints that o'er thy bed Hang lovely ; oft to musing Fancy's eye Presenting fairy vales, where the tired mind Might rest beyond the murmurs of mankind...
321 psl. - Bonaparte was decidedly ugly ; he afterwards underwent a total change. I do not speak of the illusive charm which his glory spread around him, but I mean to say that a gradual physical change took place in him in the space of seven years. His emaciated thinness was converted into a...

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