Hood's Magazine and Comic Miscellany, Tom 3proprietor, 1845 |
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Strona 2
... look more like a satire of the woods than a Christian : but when you consider what hangs on it , namely , the future prospects in life of our poor helpless innocent twins , you'll respect his beard as if it belonged to Moses or Aaron ...
... look more like a satire of the woods than a Christian : but when you consider what hangs on it , namely , the future prospects in life of our poor helpless innocent twins , you'll respect his beard as if it belonged to Moses or Aaron ...
Strona 11
... Look ! -they are trying the surgery door ! " The foremost of the mob , in fact , were endeavouring to effect an entrance as described ; but , being foiled , commenced a smart rattling with their sticks on the doors and shutters ...
... Look ! -they are trying the surgery door ! " The foremost of the mob , in fact , were endeavouring to effect an entrance as described ; but , being foiled , commenced a smart rattling with their sticks on the doors and shutters ...
Strona 22
... looks as if a breath of air would blow it away . Mandarins , pagodas , dragons , all the variety of monsters in ... look . But the air of Paris is a great beautifier . Only think of me , ma chère , buried for twelve long months in a ...
... looks as if a breath of air would blow it away . Mandarins , pagodas , dragons , all the variety of monsters in ... look . But the air of Paris is a great beautifier . Only think of me , ma chère , buried for twelve long months in a ...
Strona 23
... look . " " Do you not think that her rouge is a soupçon too deep ? " whis- pered the other , beginning to criticise in her turn . " I think that effect is produced by the almost unearthly whiteness of her skin , " was the reply . " It ...
... look . " " Do you not think that her rouge is a soupçon too deep ? " whis- pered the other , beginning to criticise in her turn . " I think that effect is produced by the almost unearthly whiteness of her skin , " was the reply . " It ...
Strona 31
... look . His head was bent forward , and the broad - leafed straw hat he wore overshadowed his face , so as to prevent me at first from distin- guishing his features . As the party halted , however , he raised his head a little as if to ...
... look . His head was bent forward , and the broad - leafed straw hat he wore overshadowed his face , so as to prevent me at first from distin- guishing his features . As the party halted , however , he raised his head a little as if to ...
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Popularne fragmenty
Strona 233 - In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask "Do I live, am I dead?" Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed's ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought...
Strona 235 - To comfort me on my entablature Whereon I am to lie till I must ask 'Do I live, am I dead?' There, leave me, there! For ye have stabbed me with ingratitude To death - ye wish it - God, ye wish it! Stone Gritstone, a-crumble!
Strona 489 - No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his father and his God.
Strona 469 - That what we love shall ne'er be so. I know not why I could not die, I had no earthly hope — but faith, And that forbade a selfish death.
Strona 233 - Put me where I may look at him! True peach, Rosy and flawless: how I earned the prize! Draw close: that conflagration of my church — What then? So much was saved if aught were missed!
Strona 488 - On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Strona 235 - Good strong thick stupefying incensesmoke ! For as I lie here, hours of the dead night, Dying in state and by such slow degrees, I fold my arms as if they clasped a crook, And stretch my feet forth straight as stone can point, And let the bedclothes for a mortcloth drop Into great laps and folds of...
Strona 234 - Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off, And Moses with the tables . . . but I know Ye mark me not! What do they whisper thee, Child of my bowels, Anselm?
Strona 60 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!
Strona 234 - Praxed's ear to pray Horses for ye, and brown Greek manuscripts, And mistresses with great smooth marbly limbs ? — That's if ye carve my epitaph aright, Choice Latin, picked phrase, Tully's every word, No gaudy ware like Gandolf's second line — Tully, my masters? Ulpian serves his need!