Hood's Magazine and Comic Miscellany, Tom 3proprietor, 1845 |
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Strona 9
... returned to the surgery and my parents to the parlour . " The tongs and bones , " muttered my mother as she resumed her seat at the tea - table , " what on earth can it mean ? " " Why , I suspect it means , " said my father , " that the ...
... returned to the surgery and my parents to the parlour . " The tongs and bones , " muttered my mother as she resumed her seat at the tea - table , " what on earth can it mean ? " " Why , I suspect it means , " said my father , " that the ...
Strona 16
... returned , as he pressed to his lips the small white hand from which he had drawn an embroidered glove ; " but fear her not , she is the goddess of chastity , and flies from men . " " Rather say the huntress , in full pursuit of you . I ...
... returned , as he pressed to his lips the small white hand from which he had drawn an embroidered glove ; " but fear her not , she is the goddess of chastity , and flies from men . " " Rather say the huntress , in full pursuit of you . I ...
Strona 20
... returned , and came in by the back way . " " There have been dreadful shrieks heard from your house , " was the answer . " You are wrong , neighbour , " interrupted an old woman ; " they were not from the house . I opened my window at ...
... returned , and came in by the back way . " " There have been dreadful shrieks heard from your house , " was the answer . " You are wrong , neighbour , " interrupted an old woman ; " they were not from the house . I opened my window at ...
Strona 21
... returned the other ; " when at that fatal ball you uttered that threat , murder was in your thoughts . But enough of this : I come here as your spiritual guide , prepared to speak com- fort to your soul , if by confession and repentance ...
... returned the other ; " when at that fatal ball you uttered that threat , murder was in your thoughts . But enough of this : I come here as your spiritual guide , prepared to speak com- fort to your soul , if by confession and repentance ...
Strona 22
... How could they say , " she continued , on returning to her seat , “ that she was in bad health ? To me , she seems more lovely than ever . " " Your long banishment makes you see every thing couleur 22 HOOD'S MAGAZINE AND COMIC MISCELLANY .
... How could they say , " she continued , on returning to her seat , “ that she was in bad health ? To me , she seems more lovely than ever . " " Your long banishment makes you see every thing couleur 22 HOOD'S MAGAZINE AND COMIC MISCELLANY .
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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!