The Metropolitan, Том 53James Cochrane, 1848 |
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Стр. 17
... cried to myself , stop ! hold enough ! yet on she went . Not a breath stirred but hers . Not a motion in the vast assembly of heads . All else was silent , lost in admiration . Every head was strained forward , every eye transfixed ...
... cried to myself , stop ! hold enough ! yet on she went . Not a breath stirred but hers . Not a motion in the vast assembly of heads . All else was silent , lost in admiration . Every head was strained forward , every eye transfixed ...
Стр. 18
... cried I , the remembrance of my poverty flashing across my mind , " stay , explain yourself more clearly on this point . " He returned , and , seating himself on the other side of the table , leaned half across it , indicating with his ...
... cried I , the remembrance of my poverty flashing across my mind , " stay , explain yourself more clearly on this point . " He returned , and , seating himself on the other side of the table , leaned half across it , indicating with his ...
Стр. 19
... cried I , forgetful of reserve , " what brings you here ; has anything happened ? you look pale and agitated . ” I conducted her to the sofa . " O Joseph , " said the poor girl , weeping and leaning on my breast , " you at least are my ...
... cried I , forgetful of reserve , " what brings you here ; has anything happened ? you look pale and agitated . ” I conducted her to the sofa . " O Joseph , " said the poor girl , weeping and leaning on my breast , " you at least are my ...
Стр. 20
... cried I , " would you commit murder ? " -- Lord Welwyn had fired before the signal agreed upon , hoping to put his life out of all jeopardy , by taking mine beforehand . But he had failed . He turned pale , and stood culprit - stricken ...
... cried I , " would you commit murder ? " -- Lord Welwyn had fired before the signal agreed upon , hoping to put his life out of all jeopardy , by taking mine beforehand . But he had failed . He turned pale , and stood culprit - stricken ...
Стр. 29
... cried the frightened girl , struggling , " my grandmother is waiting for me . " " Let her wait , " said the tormenter , drawing her nearer to his companions and the light , " now , Dick , " he continued , addressing one of the three ...
... cried the frightened girl , struggling , " my grandmother is waiting for me . " " Let her wait , " said the tormenter , drawing her nearer to his companions and the light , " now , Dick , " he continued , addressing one of the three ...
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Alice Anselme appeared arms Audian beauty Boskey called Charles Yorke child cold countenance cried dark dead dear death DODSWORTH Dominicus door dream duty exclaimed eyes face father fear feel felt gazed Geneva gentleman girl give glance Grésivaudan Greystock hand happy head heard heart Higginbotham hope Horace Walpole hour husband Hutton Isère Jack John Forrest Joseph Long Kimballton lady Laithwaye laugh letter light LIII.-NO look Lord Bolingbroke Lord Hardwicke Lord Welwyn mind Mordaunt morning mother murder never night Oldboy once Orfea passed Pestlepolge Pierce Butler poor Redmond rejoined replied round scarcely scene seemed Shadrach silence Sir Thomas smile soon sorrow spirit Squadger stood sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought tion tone took turned Versoix voice Voltaire whilst wife woman words wretch Yellowchops young
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Стр. 349 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Стр. 349 - Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Стр. 349 - Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living...
Стр. 348 - WOODS IN WINTER. WHEN winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill, That overbrows the lonely vale.
Стр. 320 - Of Law there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is the bosom of God ; her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in Heaven and earth do her homage ; the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power.
Стр. 349 - Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife!
Стр. 389 - It is wonderful that five thousand years have now elapsed since the creation of the world, and still it is undecided whether or not there has ever been an instance of the spirit of any person appearing after death. All argument is against it; but all belief is for it.
Стр. 345 - Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, singing hymns unbidden till the world is wrought to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
Стр. 441 - For me, I was never so affected with any human Tale. After first reading it, I was totally possessed with it for many days — I dislike all the miraculous part of it, but the feelings of the man under the operation of such scenery dragged me along like Tom Piper's magic whistle.
Стр. 384 - ... learned that Mr. Higginbotham had in his service an Irishman of doubtful character, whom he had hired without a recommendation, on the score of economy. "May I be hanged myself...