Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volumen4 |
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“ The Tragicomical History of the Loves of Quimper - Corentin , translated by the late Mr Johnes of Hafod . " - “ An Apology for Romances , by the same .
“ The Tragicomical History of the Loves of Quimper - Corentin , translated by the late Mr Johnes of Hafod . " - “ An Apology for Romances , by the same .
Página 2
... had torn up the roots also , and for But however wavering may ever withered the juices of his tree of be the standard of some of the late ad- evil .
... had torn up the roots also , and for But however wavering may ever withered the juices of his tree of be the standard of some of the late ad- evil .
Página 4
... and I observe , that and religion , and with that happy inon a late occasion , a very numerous stinct which is the best prerogative of and respectable ...
... and I observe , that and religion , and with that happy inon a late occasion , a very numerous stinct which is the best prerogative of and respectable ...
Página 16
Men of genius who common eyes ; nay , often seem to or- have been late taught , with powers cadinary observers to denote dulness or pable of placing them in ...
Men of genius who common eyes ; nay , often seem to or- have been late taught , with powers cadinary observers to denote dulness or pable of placing them in ...
Página 17
... the late - learned , for I have pass them with inattention ; so that appeared too late in the world and in he must be in a great embarrassment .
... the late - learned , for I have pass them with inattention ; so that appeared too late in the world and in he must be in a great embarrassment .
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Pasajes populares
Página 54 - On the demise of a person of eminence, it is confidently averred that he had a hand "open as day to melting charity," and that "take him for all in all, we ne'er shall look upon his like again.
Página 259 - WHEN Ruth was left half desolate, Her Father took another Mate ; And Ruth, not seven years old, A slighted child, at her own will Went wandering over dale and hill, In thoughtless freedom, bold. And she had made a pipe of straw, And music from that pipe could draw Like sounds of winds and floods ; Had built a bower upon the green, As if she from her birth had been An infant of the woods.
Página 258 - My Friend! enough to sorrow you have given, The purposes of wisdom ask no more ; Be wise and chearful ; and no longer read The forms of things with an unworthy eye. She sleeps in the calm earth, and peace is here.
Página 261 - That oaten pipe of hers is mute, Or thrown away; but with a flute Her loneliness she cheers: This flute, made of a hemlock stalk, At evening in his homeward walk The Quantock woodman hears.
Página 215 - COME, gentle Spring, ethereal mildness, come ; And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, While music wakes around, veiled in a shower ' Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
Página 144 - My constant reflections on the inconvenient, or rather injurious rites, introduced by the peculiar practice of Hindoo idolatry, which, more than any other pagan worship, destroys the texture of society, together with compassion for my countrymen, have compelled me to use every possible effort to awaken them from their dream of error: and by making them acquainted with their scriptures, enable them to contemplate with true devotion the unity and omnipresence of Nature's God..
Página 148 - I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream for a head filled like mine with Gothic story) and that on the uppermost bannister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour.
Página 160 - Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim the ocean stream : Him, haply, slumbering on the Norway foam The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays...
Página 149 - I completed in less than two months, that one evening I wrote from the time I had drunk my tea, about six o'clock, till half an hour after one in the morning, when my hand and fingers were so weary, that I could not hold the pen to finish the sentence, but left Matilda and Isabella talking, in the middle of a paragraph.
Página 259 - Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time, The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves. Farewell, farewell, the heart that lives alone, Housed in a dream, at distance from the kind ! Such happiness, wherever it be known, Is to be pitied ; for 'tis surely blind. But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, And frequent sights of what is to be borne ! Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. — Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.