The New Monthly Magazine and Literary Journal, 47. köide

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Henry Colburn and Company, 1836

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Page 398 - Shakspeare, that, take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again.
Page 273 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath. That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Page 402 - The following abstract or rather description of the Report of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the state of the...
Page 498 - What more felicity can fall to creature Than to enjoy delight with liberty, And to be lord of all the works of nature! To...
Page 34 - twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled...
Page 34 - mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed : And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.
Page 185 - For ever stare! O flat and shocking face, Grimly divided from the breast below! Thou that on dry land horribly dost go With a split body and most ridiculous pace, Prong after prong, disgracer of all grace, Long-useless-finned, haired, upright, unwet, slow!
Page 17 - Pavoa peacock, is a grave and majestic dance ; the method of dancing it was anciently by gentlemen dressed with a cap and sword, by those of the long robe in their gowns, by princes in their mantles, and by ladies in gowns with long trains, the motion whereof in the dance resembled that of a peacock's tail.
Page 13 - Ev'n the terror, Poison, Hath its plea for blooming ; Life it gives to reverent lips, though death to the presuming. And oh ! our sweet soul-taker, That thief, the honey-maker, What a house hath he, by the thymy glen ! In his talking rooms How the feasting fumes, Till...
Page 338 - 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 breath'd.

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