New Monthly Magazine, and Universal Register, Volume 10Thomas Campbell, Samuel Carter Hall, Edward Bulwer Lytton Baron Lytton, Theodore Edward Hook, Thomas Hood, William Harrison Ainsworth, William Ainsworth Henry Colburn, 1824 |
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Page iii
... Death 60 .. My Uncle : a Portrait 61 The Fall of Granada , or the Massacre of the Abencerrages 66 The Spirits of the Age No. I. 68 , II . 187 , III . 246 , IV . 297 Castle - Builders The last Look of Granada Last Year 77 83 85 .. .. On ...
... Death 60 .. My Uncle : a Portrait 61 The Fall of Granada , or the Massacre of the Abencerrages 66 The Spirits of the Age No. I. 68 , II . 187 , III . 246 , IV . 297 Castle - Builders The last Look of Granada Last Year 77 83 85 .. .. On ...
Page 5
... death of the mother . The child , in this interesting and preca- rious state , was taken in charge by an Aragonese knight , from whom , according to Prince Carlos † , the historian of Navarre , he afterwards derived the name of Abarca ...
... death of the mother . The child , in this interesting and preca- rious state , was taken in charge by an Aragonese knight , from whom , according to Prince Carlos † , the historian of Navarre , he afterwards derived the name of Abarca ...
Page 14
... Death of Robert Bloomfield the poet : dismay and surprise of several senti- mental young ladies on finding that the Farmer's Boy was fifty - six years old . New coinage of double sovereigns : much cavilled at by Sir W. C. who hoped that ...
... Death of Robert Bloomfield the poet : dismay and surprise of several senti- mental young ladies on finding that the Farmer's Boy was fifty - six years old . New coinage of double sovereigns : much cavilled at by Sir W. C. who hoped that ...
Page 16
... death ; The hosts that in Morgarten's valley fell ; And Morat's blood - stain'd lake , and Laupen's crimson'd heath . No - while my memory holds , my life - pulse beats , No other scene can e'er again excite The emotion kindled by those ...
... death ; The hosts that in Morgarten's valley fell ; And Morat's blood - stain'd lake , and Laupen's crimson'd heath . No - while my memory holds , my life - pulse beats , No other scene can e'er again excite The emotion kindled by those ...
Page 17
... death . " Le patriarche de Ferney " is the name by which he is familiarly distinguished by his disciples . In a word , Ferney is almost as intimate to the ear of his admirers as his own name . There is scarcely any man , distinguished ...
... death . " Le patriarche de Ferney " is the name by which he is familiarly distinguished by his disciples . In a word , Ferney is almost as intimate to the ear of his admirers as his own name . There is scarcely any man , distinguished ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abencerrages admiration Almack's amusement appearance artist beauty Benvenuto better breath called Cape Turnagain Captain Casimir Delavigne character corpulence court death delight Domitian dress earth effect English expedition eyes fancy favour fear feel French George Withers give Greek Grenada hand head heard heart honour hope human imagination Iñigo Arista Ireland Irish king labour lady Lady Morgan Lancaster Sound leave less light live look Lord Luigi manner Masaniello matter means Melville Island mind Naples nature never night o'er object once opinion pass passion perhaps person pleasure poet poetry political present racter reader reason Repulse Bay round Salvator Rosa scarcely scene shew sleep sneeze Sorbonne soul spirit style sweet thee thing thou thought tion Tittup took truth turn Voltaire whole wind word writing young
Popular passages
Page 60 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath. And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
Page 178 - Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.
Page 264 - O Proserpina, For the flowers now that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength...
Page 85 - Would I were dead! if God's good will were so: For what is in this world but grief and woe ? O God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain : To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point...
Page 32 - E'en now, where Alpine solitudes ascend, I sit me down a pensive hour to spend ; And placed on high above the storm's career, Look downward where an hundred realms appear ; Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride.
Page 485 - Out of every corner of the woods and glens they came creeping forth upon their hands, for their legs could not bear them; they looked like anatomies of death ; they spake like ghosts crying out of their graves...
Page 420 - Me, of these Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument "Remains ; sufficient of itself to raise That name, unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years damp my intended wing Depress'd ; and much they may, if all be mine, Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
Page 383 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer being here below? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Page 60 - Death ! Day is for mortal care, Eve, for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night, for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer ; But all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth ! The banquet hath its hour, Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine; There comes a day for griefs o'erwhelming power, A time for softer tears...
Page 319 - If stately passions in me burn, And one chance look to thee should turn, I drink out of an humbler urn A lowlier pleasure — The homely sympathy that heeds The common life our nature breeds, A wisdom fitted to the needs Of hearts at leisure.