The New Monthly Magazine and Humorist, Том 70

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Henry Colburn, 1844
 

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Стр. 250 - A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.
Стр. 300 - Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun: 8 But if a man live many years, and rejoice in them all; yet let him remember the days of darkness; for they shall be many.
Стр. 363 - Among the smooth stones of the stream is thy portion ; they, they are thy lot : even to them hast thou poured a drink offering, thou hast offered a meat offering.
Стр. 138 - A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears : see how yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in thine ear : change places; and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief?
Стр. 14 - ... warning of the captain. This state of uncertainty seemed to irritate the temper of poor Beaumetz to an extraordinary degree, and, unable to remain quietly at home, he hurried to and from the city with an eager, restless activity, which at times excited my astonishment, for he had ever been remarkable for great calmness and placidity of temper. One day he entered our lodging, evidently labouring under great excitement, although commanding himself to appear calm. I was engaged at that moment in...
Стр. 145 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings : Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Стр. 21 - With golden key Wealth thought To pass — but 'twould not do : While Wit a diamond brought, Which cut his bright way through, bo here's to her who long Hath waked the poet's sigh, The girl, who gave to song What gold could never tray.
Стр. 287 - Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound, In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
Стр. 597 - Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright Neither by day nor yet by night • They lay down to rest, With corslet laced, Pillowed on buckler cold and hard ; They carved at the meal With gloves of steel, And they drank the red wine through the helmet barred.
Стр. 14 - ... and let us take a turn on the Battery ; perhaps the wind may be chopping round; we may be nearer our departure than we imagine.

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