New Monthly Magazine, Band 2

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Henry Colburn, 1821
 

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Seite 292 - So saying, her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluck'd, she eat: Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe, That all was lost.
Seite 265 - And time and place are lost ; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand...
Seite 60 - Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way...
Seite 128 - Tell us, for doubtless thou canst recollect, To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame ? Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect Of either pyramid that bears his name ? Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer...
Seite 265 - Who, that surveys this span of earth we press, — This speck of life in time's great wilderness, This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, The past, the future, two eternities ! — Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, When he might build him a proud temple there A name that long shall hallow all its space, And be each purer soul's high resting-place?
Seite 103 - His doubts might have been indeed pardoned ; for, except perhaps the flying fish, there was no race existing on the earth, in the air, or the waters, who were the object of such an unintermitting, general, and relentless persecution as the Jews of this period. Upon the slightest and most unreasonable pretences, as well as upon accusations the most absurd and groundless, their persons and property were exposed to every turn of popular fury...
Seite 58 - But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove ; Huge trunks ! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved...
Seite 305 - Out of my grief and my impatience Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what, He should, or he should not ; for he made me mad To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman...
Seite 465 - See here, what a mighty pretty Horace I have in my pocket ! what if you amused yourself in turning an ode, till we mount again? Lord! if you pleased, what a clever Miscellany might you make at leisure hours ?
Seite 366 - O friendly to the best pursuits of man, Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace...

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