The Living Age, Volume 119E. Littell & Company, 1873 |
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Page 19
... seemed to say with Catiline in the fine tragedy : " Lo ! where I stand , I am war ! " - " I like that man , " said Enguerrand , as he continued to ride by the fair Ameri- can ; " in language and esprit he is so French . " " I used to ...
... seemed to say with Catiline in the fine tragedy : " Lo ! where I stand , I am war ! " - " I like that man , " said Enguerrand , as he continued to ride by the fair Ameri- can ; " in language and esprit he is so French . " " I used to ...
Page 23
... seemed likely to result in the ultimate freedom of his property from all burdens , and the restoration of his inher- a pleasure that his nature had not found ; for , amidst the amusements of Paris , Alain remained intensely Breton - viz ...
... seemed likely to result in the ultimate freedom of his property from all burdens , and the restoration of his inher- a pleasure that his nature had not found ; for , amidst the amusements of Paris , Alain remained intensely Breton - viz ...
Page 37
... seemed abso- intention I had formed on first missing lutely infinite , and the faint rose - blushes my friend , of going up to the cottage to that came and went at a word or a look inquire if she were ill , and I turned in the cheeks ...
... seemed abso- intention I had formed on first missing lutely infinite , and the faint rose - blushes my friend , of going up to the cottage to that came and went at a word or a look inquire if she were ill , and I turned in the cheeks ...
Page 43
... seemed as if its water had been enriched by a sudden in- But on this night Madeline was not flux of crimson wine . It was very still in herself . Was it Harry Raymond's phil- the wood ; the birds , the butterflies , and osophy or his ...
... seemed as if its water had been enriched by a sudden in- But on this night Madeline was not flux of crimson wine . It was very still in herself . Was it Harry Raymond's phil- the wood ; the birds , the butterflies , and osophy or his ...
Page 45
... seemed much fatigued . The gentleman alighted from the carriage , and anxiously inquired whether they could have horses at an early hour the next morning , as they were desirous of continuing their journey to Vienna with as little delay ...
... seemed much fatigued . The gentleman alighted from the carriage , and anxiously inquired whether they could have horses at an early hour the next morning , as they were desirous of continuing their journey to Vienna with as little delay ...
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Popular passages
Page 194 - Can trample an empire down. We, in the ages lying In the buried past of the earth, Built Nineveh with our sighing, And Babel itself with our mirth ; And o'erthrew them with prophesying To the old of the new world's worth; For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth.
Page 110 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,...
Page 506 - ... Yet well I ken the banks where Amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye Amaranths ! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not ! Glide, rich streams, away ! With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll : And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul ? WORK WITHOUT HOPE draws nectar in a sieve, And HOPE without an object cannot live.
Page 450 - THE night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.
Page 376 - UNWATCH'D, the garden bough shall sway, The tender blossom flutter down, Unloved, that beech will gather brown, This maple burn itself away; Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair, Ray round with flames her disk of seed, And many a rose-carnation feed With summer spice the humming air; Unloved, by many a sandy bar, The brook shall babble down the plain, At noon or when the lesser wain Is twisting round the polar star; Uncared...
Page 374 - Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love, delaying as the tender ash delays to clothe herself, when all the woods are green!
Page 15 - I knew there was but one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields.
Page 278 - And he brought me to the inner court of the Lord's House, and behold, at the door of the temple of the Lord, between the porch and the altar, were about five and twenty men, with their backs towards the temple of the Lord and their faces towards the east: and they worshipped the sun towards the east.
Page 375 - Come from the woods that belt the gray hill-side, The seven elms, the poplars four That stand beside my father's door, And chiefly from the brook that loves To purl o'er matted cress and ribbed sand, Or dimple in the dark of rushy coves, Drawing into his narrow earthen urn, In every elbow and turn, The filter'd tribute of the rough woodland.
Page 376 - Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again, And howlest, issuing out of night, With blasts that blow the poplar white, And lash with storm the streaming pane?