National Review, Volumen17Robert Theobold, 1863 |
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Achaian ancient apostle Aratus Articles Banquo believe better Bishop book of Kings Browning's character Cheynell Chillingworth Christ Christian Church Church of England clergy constitution creed criticism Cromwell death divine doctrine doubt England English expression fact favour federal feel foreign friends Froude G. C. Lewis give Gnosticism gold Gospel Greek hand heart Hissarlik human idea imagination intellectual Irenæus Jerusalem Jesus king Lady Macbeth language league less living Lord Lydiadas means Megalopolis ment Meredith mind minister moral murder nation nature never once opinion passions Pentateuch perhaps person poems poetic poetry Poland Poles Polish political Polybius present principles prophets question racter readers religion religious Russia scarcely Scripture seems Sir G Sir George Lewis society speak spirit Strabo thing thought tion true truth Warburton whole wish words writings
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Página 305 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Página 296 - For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
Página 306 - Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
Página 310 - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters : — to beguile the time, Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
Página 316 - Duncan is in his grave ; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.
Página 319 - tis later, sir. Ban. Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven, Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose!
Página 527 - O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and ye would not...
Página 190 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Página 305 - Art thou afear'd To be the same in thine own act and valour, As thou art in desire ? Would'st thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem; Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would," Like the poor cat i
Página 309 - You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!