Bentley's Miscellany, Том 22

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Charles Dickens, William Harrison Ainsworth, Albert Smith
Richard Bentley, 1847
 

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Стр. 42 - Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ! Sure these denote one universal joy ! Are these thy serious thoughts? Ah, turn thine eyes...
Стр. 541 - A fiery soul, which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay...
Стр. 394 - Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown ! It must, or we shall rue it : We have a vision of our own ; Ah ! why should we undo it...
Стр. 200 - Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth...
Стр. 401 - This admirable heroine, to whom the more generous superstition of the ancients would have erected altars, was, on pretence of heresy and magic, delivered over alive to the flames, and expiated, by that dreadful punishment, the signal services which she had rendered to her prince and to her native country.
Стр. 4 - Cochrane, who was leading, rowed alongside the first gun-boat, and, taking the officer by surprise, proposed to him, with a pistol at his head, the alternative of
Стр. 553 - I SAID to my heart between sleeping and waking, Thou wild thing, that always art leaping or aching, What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what nation, By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation ? Thus accus'd, the wild thing gave this sober reply: See the heart without motion, tho
Стр. 271 - with one foot on the land, and the other on the sea...
Стр. 68 - The night has been unruly : where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down : and, as they say, Lamentings heard i' the air ; strange screams of death: And, prophesying with accents terrible Of dire combustion and confused events, New hatch'd to the woeful time, The obscure bird clamour'd the live-long night : Some say the earth was feverous, and did shake.
Стр. 553 - Tis love, not devotion, that turns up her eyes — Those stars of this world are too good for the skies. But Chloe, so lively, so easy, so fair, Her wit so genteel, without art, without care; When she comes in my way — the motion, the pain, The leapings, the achings, return all again.

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