The American Library of Art, Literature and Song, Том 5Carson Stewart & Company, 1886 |
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Стр. 18
... poor rough tube a few feet in length , the work of his own hands - that very " op- tic glass " through which the " Tuscan artist " viewed the moon . " At evening from the top of Fesolé Or in Valdarno , to descry new lands , Rivers or ...
... poor rough tube a few feet in length , the work of his own hands - that very " op- tic glass " through which the " Tuscan artist " viewed the moon . " At evening from the top of Fesolé Or in Valdarno , to descry new lands , Rivers or ...
Стр. 19
... poor little spyglass it has done its work . Not Herschel nor Rosse has com- paratively done more . Franciscans and Do- minicans deride thy discoveries now , but the time will come when from two hundred ob- servatories in Europe and ...
... poor little spyglass it has done its work . Not Herschel nor Rosse has com- paratively done more . Franciscans and Do- minicans deride thy discoveries now , but the time will come when from two hundred ob- servatories in Europe and ...
Стр. 25
... poor atoms in the infinity of being , I regard it , on the contrary , as a glory of our human nature that it belongs to a family , which no man can number , of rational natures like it- self . In the order of being they may stand ...
... poor atoms in the infinity of being , I regard it , on the contrary , as a glory of our human nature that it belongs to a family , which no man can number , of rational natures like it- self . In the order of being they may stand ...
Стр. 28
... poor fellow ! The spavin spoiled his speed , and he now roams at large upon " my farm at Truro . " Mohawk never failed me till this summer . I pride myself in taking the conceit out of coxcombs I meet on the road , and on the ease with ...
... poor fellow ! The spavin spoiled his speed , and he now roams at large upon " my farm at Truro . " Mohawk never failed me till this summer . I pride myself in taking the conceit out of coxcombs I meet on the road , and on the ease with ...
Стр. 29
... poor Mohawk , that you , the admiration of all but the envious , the great Mohawk , the standard by which all other horses are meas- ured , trots next to Mohawk , only yields to Mohawk , looks like Mohawk - that you are , after all ...
... poor Mohawk , that you , the admiration of all but the envious , the great Mohawk , the standard by which all other horses are meas- ured , trots next to Mohawk , only yields to Mohawk , looks like Mohawk - that you are , after all ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ABRAHAM MILLS Agrippina Anfield appeared Babylon BATTLE OF LEIPZIG beauty beneath Birch blessed body breath brow called chivalry cried cubits dark dear death Doña Dudley Observatory Dunwoodie Dupin earth Euphrates eyes face fair father fear feel feet flowers Fontenoy gazed GETA give hand Harvey hath head hear heard heart heaven HENRY KIRKE WHITE Herodotus honor hope horse hour ical Isaac Levi king knew kritters lady laugh leave light live look Lord Mahomet Manyema Mayton ment mind morning nature Nero never night o'er once passed peddler poor replied rest round seemed Sheridan side sigh silent sleep smile soul spirit stood sweet Sybrandt tears tell temple thee thing thou thought thousand Timothy tion took truth turned whole wind words young youth
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Стр. 98 - Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose; I still had hopes — for pride attends us still — Amidst the swains to show my...
Стр. 312 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits, and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms; And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school: And then, the lover; Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress...
Стр. 396 - I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
Стр. 266 - And then thou must be damn'd perpetually. Stand still you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come. Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make Perpetual day: or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul.
Стр. 100 - How blest is he who crowns in shades like these, A youth of labour with an age of ease; Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly.
Стр. 274 - WISH MINE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Стр. 474 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is; What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth!
Стр. 320 - Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ?— Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. Her lips suck forth my soul : see, where it flies! Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
Стр. 188 - tis the soul of peace : Of all the virtues, 'tis nearest kin to heaven ; It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him, was a sufferer; A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit : The first true gentleman, that ever breathed.
Стр. 106 - ... than all the gloss of art ; Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, The soul adopts, and owns their firstborn sway ; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvied, unmolested...