Fraser's Magazine, Том 58

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James Anthony Froude, John Tulloch
J. Fraser, 1858
Contains the first printing of Sartor resartus, as well as other works by Thomas Carlyle.
 

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Стр. 314 - Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Стр. 524 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Стр. 59 - The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,— the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods— rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,— Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Стр. 265 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old surveyed; And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And sleights of art and feats of strength went round.
Стр. 49 - Jesus' sake, forbeare To dig the dust enclosed here: Blessed be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.
Стр. 91 - Branches they bore of that enchanted stem, Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave To each, but whoso did receive of them And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores...
Стр. 530 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more.
Стр. 57 - EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, LH Wouldst thou hear what man can say In a little ? reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die : Which in life did harbour give To more virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault, Leave it buried in this vault. One name was Elizabeth, The other let it sleep with death ; Fitter, where it died, to tell, Than that it lived at all. Farewell...
Стр. 217 - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things.
Стр. 57 - EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, LH WOULD'ST thou hear what man can say In a little ? reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die : Which in life did harbour give To more virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault. Leave it buried in this vault. One name was ELIZABETH, The other let it sleep with death : Fitter, where it died, to tell, Than that it lived at all. Farewell 1 SONG.

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