Sharpe's London Magazine: a Journal of Entertainment and Instruction for General Reading..., Tom 9A.Hill, Virtue, and Company, 1849 Vols. 22-23 include illustrations by George Cruikshank. |
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acres appeared ARNOLD VON WINKELRIED beautiful better Bracy British Museum called Cashmere character Charles colour cromlech dear England English eyes face father Faulconbridge fear feeling Frere gentleman give glacier hand happy hath head heard heart honour hope interest Kabylie kafila Kate king labour Lady Lombard Lahore Lamartine land Layard Leigh Hunt Lewis Lilla living Lizzy London look Lord Mendham miles Milton mind Miss Wilson morning Mosul mother Mount Athos mountain nature never night Nineveh noble observed once passed Persian Pompeii poor present Prince prisoners Punjaub readers replied returned river ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH rose sayd scarcely scene seemed Sikhs smile soon spirit stone stood Sullana sweet tell thing thou thought tion traveller whole wonderful words young
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Strona 222 - There is a poor, blind Samson in this land, Shorn of his strength, and bound in bonds of steel, Who may, in some grim revel, raise his hand, And shake the pillars of this Commonweal, Till the vast Temple of our liberties A shapeless mass of wreck and rubbish lies.
Strona 108 - It hath been formerly judged that the domestic servants of the King of Heaven should be of the noblest families on earth; and, though the iniquity of the late times have made clergymen meanly valued and the sacred name of Priest contemptible, yet I will labour to make it honourable by consecrating all my learning and all my poor abilities to advance the glory of that God that gave them...
Strona 155 - And Jacob said unto his brethren, Gather stones; and they took stones, and made an heap: and they did eat there upon the heap. 47 . And Laban called it Jegarsahadutha: but Jacob called it Galeed. 48. And Laban said, This heap is a witness between me and thee this day.
Strona 182 - As the news spread, streets and squares, marketplaces and coffeehouses, broke forth into acclamations. Yet were the acclamations less strange than the weeping. For the feelings of men had been wound up to such a point that at length the stern English nature, so little used to outward signs of emotion, gave way, and thousands sobbed aloud for very joy. Meanwhile, from the outskirts of the multitude, horsemen were spurring off to bear along all the great roads intelligence of the victory of our Church...
Strona 43 - Wallah ! your books are right, and the Franks know that which is hid from the true believer. Here is the gold, sure enough, and, please God, we shall find it all in a few days. Only don't say anything about it to those Arabs, for they are asses and cannot hold their tongues. The matter will come to the ears of the Pasha.
Strona 50 - The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall, The majesty of darkness shall Receive my parting ghost! This spirit shall return to Him Who gave its heavenly spark; Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim When thou thyself art dark! No! it shall live again, and shine In bliss unknown to beams of thine, By Him recalled to breath, Who captive led captivity, Who robbed the grave of victory, And took the sting from death!
Strona 109 - His coach was, with much difficulty, and by the help of many hands, brought after him entire. In general, carriages were taken to pieces at Conway, and borne, on the shoulders of stout Welsh peasants, to the Menai Straits.
Strona 122 - One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she shows, and what conceals • Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Strona 109 - It was only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the road was available for wheeled vehicles. Often the mud lay deep on the right and the left ; and only a narrow track of firm ground rose above the quagmire.
Strona 101 - But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears, And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise, Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears; Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to th...