Noctes Ambrosianæ, Volumen1W. D. Widdleton, 1867 |
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Términos y frases comunes
Adjutant admirable Ambrose Balaam better Blackwood Blackwood's Magazine Buller bumper Burran called Captain Chaldee Christopher Christopher North Cockney confess Contributors dear devil died Doctor Edinburgh Review Editor Ettrick Shepherd eyes feeling fellow frae genius gentleman Girnaway give Glasgow hand hear heard heart Highland Hogg honor Irish Irishman James James Hogg Jeffrey John John Ballantyne John Bull Magazine Kempferhausen King Kirk of Shotts Lady literary London look Lord Byron Mullion Murray ne'er never Noctes North Odoherty Omnes Opium-Eater Pen Owen poem poet Powldoodies pretty Prince prose published Scotland Scott seen Seward sing song soul speak spirit sure tell Tent There's thing thou thought Tickler Tims Tory unto verses Wastle weel Whigs word write written wrote Wylie young
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Página 145 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Página xxiv - And he spake of trees, from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall: he spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes.
Página 92 - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. — Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels, I here engage my words.
Página 442 - It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
Página 445 - The Virgin Mother of the God-born Child, With her Son in her blessed arms look'd round, Splired by some chance when all beside was spoil'd ; She made the earth below seem holy ground.
Página 86 - Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!
Página 367 - Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander. John Keats, who was kill'd off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late Much as they might have been supposed to speak. Poor fellow ! His was an untoward fate ; 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.
Página 443 - Their notion of its perfect rest. A convent, even a hermit's cell, Would break the silence of this dell : It is not quiet, is not ease ; But something deeper far than these : The separation that is here Is of the grave ; and of austere Yet happy feelings of the dead : And, therefore, was it rightly said That Ossian, last of all his race ! Lies buried in this lonely place.
Página 91 - The Lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic. Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives...
Página 154 - His name was a terrible name, indeed, Being Timothy Thady Mulligan ; And whenever he emptied his tumbler of punch, He'd not rest till he filled it full again.