Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance, General Literature, & Art, Volum 6William Harrison Ainsworth Chapman and Hall, 1844 |
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Resultats 1 - 5 de 100.
Pàgina 22
... thought . I sat in my narrow cell , and gnawed my fingers ; then , roused into momentary madness , I impotently struggled at , escape . The next day I was taken before a magistrate , when the same wit- nesses attended , and the same and ...
... thought . I sat in my narrow cell , and gnawed my fingers ; then , roused into momentary madness , I impotently struggled at , escape . The next day I was taken before a magistrate , when the same wit- nesses attended , and the same and ...
Pàgina 26
... 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 . The whole purport of their statements went to ...
... 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 . The whole purport of their statements went to ...
Pàgina 27
... thought of the Bar before which the Dead shall stand when they are brought up to judgment at the Day of Days . " You will be taken to the place from whence you came , " said the judge , " and from thence to the place of execution ...
... thought of the Bar before which the Dead shall stand when they are brought up to judgment at the Day of Days . " You will be taken to the place from whence you came , " said the judge , " and from thence to the place of execution ...
Pàgina 30
... thought that her high spirits and her blooming cheeks would pass away , and leave not a wreck behind ? I wonder how many fortunes she has got through since Major S - took her off my hands . I must get the poor old soul into an almshouse ...
... thought that her high spirits and her blooming cheeks would pass away , and leave not a wreck behind ? I wonder how many fortunes she has got through since Major S - took her off my hands . I must get the poor old soul into an almshouse ...
Pàgina 47
... thought it would witness his " death , " he was so very bad , —Pat inquired , " Where did you say I am going ? " " Dantzic ! " gruffly answered the mate . " What did you say ? " faintly asked Mr. Doyle . " Dantzic ! " replied the mate ...
... thought it would witness his " death , " he was so very bad , —Pat inquired , " Where did you say I am going ? " " Dantzic ! " gruffly answered the mate . " What did you say ? " faintly asked Mr. Doyle . " Dantzic ! " replied the mate ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance, General Literature ..., Volum 4 William Harrison Ainsworth Visualització completa - 1843 |
Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance, General Literature ..., Volum 19 Visualització completa - 1851 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
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
Passatges populars
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 308 - He hath put down the mighty from their seat : and hath exalted the humble and meek.
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 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.
Pàgina 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...
Pàgina 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.