Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, Volume 10
Westermann, 1852 - Philology, Modern
Vols. for 1858- include "Sitzungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für das Studium der neuren Sprachen."
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Page 58 - 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.
Page 41 - Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted ; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment ; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.
Page 197 - Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide...
Page 187 - The general effect of the evidence which has been submitted to the reader seems hardly to admit of doubt. Yet, in spite of evidence, many will still imagine to themselves the England of the Stuarts as a more pleasant country than the England in which we live.
Page 55 - Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition: but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it;' And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should...
Page 268 - And as he rose, the day grew black with him, And Fate descended nearer to the earth, As if she meant to hide the name of things Under her wings, and make the world her quarry. At this we roused, lest one small minute's stay Had left it to be...
Page i - MANY a day the straw-thatched cot Shall echo with his glory! The humblest shed, these fifty years, Shall know no other story. There shall the idle villagers To some old dame resort, And beg her with those good old tales To make their evenings short. "What though they say he did us harm? Our love this cannot dim ; Come, granny, talk of him to us; Come, granny, talk of him.
Page 268 - His countenance was a civil war itself; And all his host had, standing in their looks, The paleness of the death that was to come ; Yet cried they out like vultures, and urged on, As if they would precipitate our fates.