Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance, General Literature, & Art, Bind 6William Harrison Ainsworth Chapman and Hall, 1844 |
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Side 16
... believe you , but I wond dat saacy slud . " " Barbarous as he is , I wont betray him , " murmured Mrs. Plumpton , turning away . 66 " If you wont believe me , you old mermaid , ask those gentle- men , " said Mrs. Tipping . They'll ...
... believe you , but I wond dat saacy slud . " " Barbarous as he is , I wont betray him , " murmured Mrs. Plumpton , turning away . 66 " If you wont believe me , you old mermaid , ask those gentle- men , " said Mrs. Tipping . They'll ...
Side 17
... believe my eyes ! " cried Mrs. Plumpton ; " why the serjeant is himself again . " " Milles tonneres ! " exclaimed Bimbelot , in affright— " que signifie cela ? " " It signifies that a day of retribution is arrived for you , rascal ...
... believe my eyes ! " cried Mrs. Plumpton ; " why the serjeant is himself again . " " Milles tonneres ! " exclaimed Bimbelot , in affright— " que signifie cela ? " " It signifies that a day of retribution is arrived for you , rascal ...
Side 26
... believe that I had com- mitted the murder ; but thought that I had dwelt on the subject of the accusation so long , that I had come to consider myself as really guilty . Other witnesses followed , whose testimony was to a similar effect ...
... believe that I had com- mitted the murder ; but thought that I had dwelt on the subject of the accusation so long , that I had come to consider myself as really guilty . Other witnesses followed , whose testimony was to a similar effect ...
Side 30
... believe how pretty she once was , poor thing ! Drank toast - and- had never drank He saw " Dined on a boiled chicken and a rice - pudding . water as the physician prescribed . If Captain D anything else , I should probably never have ...
... believe how pretty she once was , poor thing ! Drank toast - and- had never drank He saw " Dined on a boiled chicken and a rice - pudding . water as the physician prescribed . If Captain D anything else , I should probably never have ...
Side 56
... believe , because I am in extremity , that I must be without money . You are mistaken , " continued he , producing a heavy bag , and convincing the lawyer that it was loaded with guineas . " Nay , more , " he added , " it is perhaps ...
... believe , because I am in extremity , that I must be without money . You are mistaken , " continued he , producing a heavy bag , and convincing the lawyer that it was loaded with guineas . " Nay , more , " he added , " it is perhaps ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Aleppo Amanus ancient Antioch appeared arrived Auriol Baldred beauty Bimbelot brought called Captain character church Colonel Commagena cried Doctor door Doyle duchess Duchess of Marlborough duke Euphrates exclaimed eyes father favour feeling French Gindarus give Guiscard hand Harley head heard heart honour horse hour Hugh Kate king Kurds lady live look lord madam Manesty Marlborough Masham miles mind morning nature never night occasion once Othello party passed passion Pat Doyle Patrick Doyle person PHAON plain Plumpton poet Polka Party poor present Proddy queen rejoined rendered replied returned river Roman round ruins Sacheverell Saint-John Sandman SAPHO Savidge scene seemed serjeant shew side spirit stood Strabo Syria Tamworth thee Theocritus thing thou thought Tinker tion took town Turkomans turned Varnham village voice Westerwood wife woman words young
Populære passager
Side 179 - And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the Shepherds weep no more; Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Side 179 - Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
Side 495 - 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, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Side 83 - 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...
Side 395 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; Which pillage they with merry march bring...
Side 308 - He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek.
Side 391 - And every sweetness that inspired their hearts, Their minds, and muses on admired themes ; If all the heavenly quintessence they still From their immortal flowers of poesy, Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive The highest reaches of a human wit ; If these had made one poem's period, And all combined in beauty's worthiness, Yet should there hover in their restless heads One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest...
Side 280 - tis, that you should carry me away: And trust me not, my friends, if, every day, I walk not here with more delight, Than ever, after the most happy fight, In triumph to the capitol I rode, To thank the gods, and to be thought, myself, almost a god.
Side 279 - Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good! Hail, ye plebeian under-wood ! Where the poetic birds rejoice, And for their quiet nests and plenteous food Pay, with their grateful voice. Hail, the poor Muses...
Side 485 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.