Englische Studien, Tom 30

Przednia okładka
Eugen Kölbing, Johannes Hoops, Reinald Hoops
O.R. Reisland, 1902
"Zeitschrift für englische Philologie" (varies slightly).

Z wnętrza książki

Inne wydania - Wyświetl wszystko

Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia

Popularne fragmenty

Strona 420 - The loathsome mask has fallen, the man remains Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but man Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nationless. Exempt from awe, worship degree, the king Over himself; just, gentle, wise...
Strona 35 - Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness For the capacity of my ruder powers : I fear it much ; and I do fear besides That I shall lose distinction in my joys ; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying.
Strona 45 - Maskelyne. — SHARPS AND FLATS : a Complete Revelation of the Secrets of Cheating at Games of Chance and Skill. By JOHN NEVIL MASKELYNE, of the Egyptian Hall. With 62 Illustrations. Crown 8vo., 6s.
Strona 71 - That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster...
Strona 50 - Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Strona 42 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Strona 433 - His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th...
Strona 143 - A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast And fills the white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys. While like the eagle free Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind...
Strona 3 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber ; Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
Strona 432 - He is made one with Nature: there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own; Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.

Informacje bibliograficzne