The Quarterly Review, Том 185John Murray, 1897 |
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Стр. 12
... writes in a timid , carefully modulated tone ; and after eighteen months of exile and estrangement , he must still entreat for a return of his father's tenderness . Yet he had become ' a good Protestant ' by Christmas Day 1754 , when he ...
... writes in a timid , carefully modulated tone ; and after eighteen months of exile and estrangement , he must still entreat for a return of his father's tenderness . Yet he had become ' a good Protestant ' by Christmas Day 1754 , when he ...
Стр. 14
... writes the old diplomatist ; but the ' pure and exalted sentiment ' in which he takes pride , was no little complicated with jealousy , and diversified by fits of coldness , until it became a killing frost . In 1757 , during the first ...
... writes the old diplomatist ; but the ' pure and exalted sentiment ' in which he takes pride , was no little complicated with jealousy , and diversified by fits of coldness , until it became a killing frost . In 1757 , during the first ...
Стр. 15
... writes M. le petit - maître , ' that all was at an end between us . ' He let her know his opinion of her coquetry ; and she took leave of him , as she dreamt , for ever , in an indignant epistle . She had never accepted the attentions ...
... writes M. le petit - maître , ' that all was at an end between us . ' He let her know his opinion of her coquetry ; and she took leave of him , as she dreamt , for ever , in an indignant epistle . She had never accepted the attentions ...
Стр. 17
... writes in his ' Diary , ' ' they were only a set of fellows whose behaviour was low , and most of whose characters were despicable . ' Yet they succeeded in making an Englishman of him : The habits of a sedentary life were usefully ...
... writes in his ' Diary , ' ' they were only a set of fellows whose behaviour was low , and most of whose characters were despicable . ' Yet they succeeded in making an Englishman of him : The habits of a sedentary life were usefully ...
Стр. 19
... write like the liveliest of young men , without ceremony or parade ; and they agree so well that the hardest knocks do not lessen their hearty good - will to each other . And they are sincere and open , notwithstanding Dr. Johnson's ...
... write like the liveliest of young men , without ceremony or parade ; and they agree so well that the hardest knocks do not lessen their hearty good - will to each other . And they are sincere and open , notwithstanding Dr. Johnson's ...
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Стр. 175 - When the morning stars sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy.
Стр. 191 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Стр. 223 - In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have the most solemn one to "preserve, protect, and defend it.
Стр. 482 - Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth! And, by the incantation of this verse, Scatter, as from an unextinguished hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawakened earth The trumpet of a prophecy ! O, Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Стр. 348 - But thou would'st not alone Be saved, my father ! alone Conquer and come to thy goal, Leaving the rest in the wild. We were weary, and we Fearful, and we in our march Fain to drop down and to die. Still thou turnedst, and still Beckonedst the trembler, and still Gavest the weary thy hand.
Стр. 175 - Out upon her ! Thou torturest me, Tubal. It was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah, when I was a bachelor. I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.
Стр. 188 - To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament. Who is more happy, when, with heart's content, Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair And gentle tale of love and languishment? Returning home at evening, with an ear Catching the notes of Philomel, — an eye...
Стр. 178 - I WONDER, by my troth, what thou and I Did till we loved? were we not weaned till then, But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den? 'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be. If ever any beauty I did see Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee. And now...
Стр. 30 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions...
Стр. 20 - After a sleepless night, I trod, with a lofty step, the ruins of the Forum ; each memorable spot where Romulus stood, or Tully spoke, or Caesar fell, was at once present to my eye ; and several days of intoxication were lost or enjoyed before I could descend to a cool and minute investigation.