Ainsworth's Magazine, Том 1

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William Harrison Ainsworth
Chapman and Hall, 1842
 

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Стр. 178 - Murder? Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Стр. 323 - You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing.
Стр. 319 - How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topped the neighboring hill, The hawthorn-bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made!
Стр. 241 - I cannot but think myself singularly obliged by a gentleman with whom I have not the pleasure of being acquainted, when I read your very curious and kind letter, which I have this minute received.
Стр. 179 - King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he call'd the tailor lown. He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree: Tis pride that pulls the country down; Then take thine auld cloak about thee.
Стр. 101 - I have not leisure to write much. But I could chide thee that in many of thy Letters thou writest to me, That I should not be unmindful of thee and thy little ones. Truly, if I love you not too well, I think I err not on the other hand much. Thou art dearer to me than any creature; let that suffice.
Стр. 100 - Imagine the walls covered with (I call it paper, but it is really paper painted in perspective to represent) Gothic fretwork: the lightest Gothic balustrade to the staircase, adorned with antelopes (our supporters) bearing shields ; lean windows fattened with rich saints in painted glass, and a vestibule open with three arches on the landing-place, and niches full of trophies of old coats of mail, Indian shields made of rhinoceros's hides, broadswords, quivers, long bows, arrows, and spears — all...
Стр. 185 - The fountains of divine philosophy Fled not his thirsting lips, and all of great, Or good, or lovely, which the sacred past In truth or fable consecrates, he felt And knew.
Стр. 172 - ... were carved on the tops of the handles. Such as were at once opulent and generous, gave the whole twelve; those who were either more moderately rich or liberal, escaped at the...
Стр. 190 - WHAT is war and all its joys ? Useless mischief, empty noise. What are arms and trophies won ? Spangles glittering in the sun. Rosy Bacchus, give me wine, Happiness is only thine ! What is love without the bowl? 'Tis a languor of the soul : Crown'd with ivy, Venus charms, Ivy courts me to her arms. Bacchus, give me love and wine, Happiness is only thine ! THE VIRGIN S CHOICE.

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