Hood's Magazine and Comic Miscellany, Tom 3proprietor, 1845 |
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Strona 13
... woman , and boy ! " “ All , ” answered my father Thus reassured , my mother , with many broken phrases of thanks- giving , came out of her corner , and willingly resigned the dear twins to Kezia , who covered them with her kisses . The ...
... woman , and boy ! " “ All , ” answered my father Thus reassured , my mother , with many broken phrases of thanks- giving , came out of her corner , and willingly resigned the dear twins to Kezia , who covered them with her kisses . The ...
Strona 20
... woman ; " they were not from the house . I opened my window at the first alarm , and I am sure the screams came from the pavilion . Let us go there . " " The pavilion ! " said Etienne , starting . " There is no one there ! -It is locked ...
... woman ; " they were not from the house . I opened my window at the first alarm , and I am sure the screams came from the pavilion . Let us go there . " " The pavilion ! " said Etienne , starting . " There is no one there ! -It is locked ...
Strona 23
... woman , " I cannot leave the world in peace , neither will my confessor give me absolution , till I have con- fessed a crime which has long lain heavily on my conscience . All here must remember the student Etienne Grandier , who , two ...
... woman , " I cannot leave the world in peace , neither will my confessor give me absolution , till I have con- fessed a crime which has long lain heavily on my conscience . All here must remember the student Etienne Grandier , who , two ...
Strona 24
... Woman is in rags , and poor , And sorrow , cold , and hunger teaze her , If Man would only listen more To that small voice that crieth Without the guidance of a friend , " Ease her ! " Though legal sharks and screws attack her , If Man ...
... Woman is in rags , and poor , And sorrow , cold , and hunger teaze her , If Man would only listen more To that small voice that crieth Without the guidance of a friend , " Ease her ! " Though legal sharks and screws attack her , If Man ...
Strona 67
... woman about leading " the dear little lamb " -how my indignant heart swelled at the word ! -into danger , spoiling his nice new hat , and tearing his face and clothes ; but in vain : there was the dish of fish , and my father gently ...
... woman about leading " the dear little lamb " -how my indignant heart swelled at the word ! -into danger , spoiling his nice new hat , and tearing his face and clothes ; but in vain : there was the dish of fish , and my father gently ...
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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!