The London, Volumen1

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Página 224 - But I am afraid whether I shall ever be able to afford so desperate a Journey. Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I never see a mountain in my life.
Página 44 - For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill, Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill : Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain...
Página 225 - Coleridge's comfortable study just in the dusk, when the mountains were all dark with clouds upon their heads. Such an impression I never received from objects of sight before, nor do I suppose that I can ever again.
Página 444 - ... neither the judges nor any present at the trial did believe him guilty, but that he was a poor distracted wretch weary of his life, and chose to part with it this way.
Página 369 - Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others, This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught her. So was her love diffused, but like to some odorous spices, Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with aroma. Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour.
Página 299 - Speke appeared the more worn of the two ; he was excessively lean, but in reality he was in good tough condition ; he had walked the whole way from Zanzibar, never having once ridden during that wearying march. Grant was in honourable rags ; his bare knees projecting through the remnants of trowsers that were an exhibition of rough industry in tailor's work.
Página 304 - ... enthusiasm of the moment. The day broke beautifully clear, and having crossed a deep valley between the hills, we toiled up the opposite slope. I hurried to the summit. The glory of our prize burst suddenly upon me! There, like a sea of quicksilver, lay far beneath the grand expanse of water, — a boundless sea horizon on the south and southwest, glittering in the noonday sun; and on the west at fifty or sixty miles...
Página 105 - Lesley As she gaed o'er the border? She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her, And love but her for ever; For Nature made her what she is, And ne'er made sic anither! Thou art a queen, Fair Lesley, Thy subjects we, before thee; Thou art divine, Fair Lesley. The hearts o
Página 59 - And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream...
Página 225 - Street ; the crowds, the very dirt and mud, the sun shining upon houses and pavements, the print shops, the old bookstalls, parsons cheapening books, coffee-houses, steams of soups from kitchens, the pantomimes — London itself a pantomime and a masquerade — all these things work themselves into my mind and feed me without a power of satiating me. The wonder of these sights impels me into night-walks about her crowded streets, and I often shed tears in the motley Strand from fulness of joy at...

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