Dies Boreales: Or Christopher Under Canvass

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A. Hart, 1850 - 363 Seiten
Seven papers which appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, June to September, 1849, November, 1849 and April to May, 1850.

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Seite 88 - 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." Talboys. Finally I reached him—closed on him-—when Eolus, or Eurus, or Notus, or Favonius—for all the heathen wind-gods were abroad—inflated him, and away he flew— rustling like a
Seite 226 - If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings : My thought whose murder is yet but fantastical
Seite 232 - Stars, hide your fires ! Let not light see my black and deep desires : The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see !" The milk of human kindness has coagulated into the curd of inhuman ferocity—and all this—slanderers say—is the sole work of the Weird Sisters ! No. His wicked
Seite 124 - the world to darkness and to me/ 'Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight.' Here the incidents, instead of being progressive, fall back, and make the picture confused and inharmonious; especially as it appears soon after that it was not dark. For ' the moping owl does to the moon complain/ " Seward. Pardon me, sir, I cannot venture to answer all
Seite 238 - Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear. And chastise with the valor of my tongue, All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which Fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.
Seite 266 - purpose never is o'ertook, Unless the deed go with it : from this moment, The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done : The castle of
Seite 178 - back ; Lo ! where it comes like an eternity, As if to sweep down all things in its track, Charming the eye with dread—a matchless cataract, "Horribly beautiful I 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
Seite 232 - Is to receive our duties ; and our duties Are to your throne and state, children, and servants; Which do but what they should by doing everything Safe toward you love and honor." What would Payne Knight have said to all that? This to his King, whom he has
Seite 129 - some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries, Even in our ashes live their wonted fires.
Seite 240 - North. Besides, Duncan is not only a King, but a good King-—- " So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking off.

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