Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, Volume 19; Volume 34; Volume 36
Westermann, 1864 - Languages, Modern
Vols. for 1858- include "Sitzungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für das Studium der neuren Sprachen."
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Page 208 - Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Page 213 - There is a history in all men's lives. Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd : The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, And weak beginnings, lie intreasured.
Page 200 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Page 207 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
Page 201 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; •> I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil, that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; \ So let it be with Caesar.
Page 185 - I've met with many a breeze before, But never such a blow." Then reading on his 'bacco box, He heaved a bitter sigh, And then began to eye his pipe, And then to pipe his eye. And then he tried to sing "All's Well," But could not though he tried; His head was turned, and so he chewed His pigtail till he died.
Page 203 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Page 220 - I have of late — but wherefore I know not — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire...
Page 222 - Farewell ! a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him . The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.