Longman's Magazine, Volum 10Longmans, Green, 1887 |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
Allan Quatermain ANDREW LANG answered arms asked ball Barbara barque Barxelhold beautiful Bridget called child CHLORODYNE coin of account cottage Courcy cricket cried dark dear decimalising door ENO'S eyes face father feet fell Feltor FENNINGS followed FRUIT SALT ghost girl glance gone Goring House hand head heard heart Heurtan horse hour Jasper Jordan knew lady laughed Lealholm light live London LONGMAN'S MAGAZINE looked Lord Macumazahn married Mephistopheles Mervyn moon Morwell mother Nasta never night Nyleptha old Tom Fane once Osweng passed post-free priests Queen RIDER HAGGARD round seemed Sibyl side silence Sir Henry smile Sorais speak spoke stood story strange tell thee thing thou thought told Toxicopolis turned Umslopogaas Vere voice Vreda walked Wenegog woman women word Zu-Vendi Zulu
Passatges populars
Pàgina 554 - PHILOMELA HARK, ah, the nightingale — The tawny-throated ! Hark, from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark! — what pain! O Wanderer from a Grecian shore, Still, after many years, in distant lands, Still nourishing in thy bewilder'd brain That wild, unquench'd, deep-sunken, old-world pain — Say, will it never heal?
Pàgina 112 - Why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man.
Pàgina 556 - MOWERS, weary and brown, and blithe, What is the word methinks ye know, Endless over-word that the Scythe Sings to the blades of the grass below ? Scythes that swing in the grass and clover, Something, still, they say as they pass ; What is the word that, over and over, Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass ? Hush, ah hush, the Scythes are saying, Hush, and heed not, and fall asleep ; Hush, they say to the grasses swaying, Hush, they sing to the clover deep ! Hush — 'tis the lullaby Time is...
Pàgina 630 - SAY not of me that weakly I declined The labours of my sires, and fled the sea, The towers we founded and the lamps we lit, To play at home with paper like a child. But rather say : In the afternoon of time A strenuous family dusted from its hands The sand of granite, and heholding far Along the sounding coast its pyramids And tall memorials catch the dying sun, Smiled well content, and to this childish task Around the fire addressed its evening hours.
Pàgina 157 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Pàgina 431 - Go to now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain : whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life ? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.
Pàgina 628 - MY tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky ; It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by ; For every night at teatime and before you take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street. Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, And my papa's a banker...
Pàgina 625 - AT evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back. There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed.
Pàgina 112 - As a remedy of general utility, we much question whether a better is imported into the country, and we shall be glad to hear of its finding a place in every Anglo-Indian home. The other brands, we are happy to say, are now relegated to the native bazaars...