Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 66

Capa
William Blackwood, 1849
 

Opinião das pessoas - Escrever uma crítica

Não foram encontradas quaisquer críticas nos locais habituais.

Outras edições - Ver tudo

Palavras e frases frequentes

Passagens conhecidas

Página 20 - O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.
Página 618 - Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. Lady M. Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself ? hath it slept since ? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou...
Página 631 - Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
Página 640 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Página 639 - Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content : 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy, Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy.
Página 622 - Live you ? or are you aught That man may question ? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. — You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
Página 341 - we are long alone; The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.
Página 250 - In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets...
Página 617 - Be innocent of the knowledge , dearest chuck , Till thou applaud the deed. — Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale!
Página 368 - Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge, From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge, Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn Its steady dyes while all around is torn ' By the distracted waters, bears serene Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn ; Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.

Informação bibliográfica