Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, Volum 2William Tait, Christian Isobel Johnstone W. Tait, 1833 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 100.
Pàgina 10
... called a Whig as a Tory ; and , moreover , they have a growing jealousy that all parties , formed from the Aristocracy , must possess aristocratic feelings , and , consequently , be opposed to the demands of the people . A very little ...
... called a Whig as a Tory ; and , moreover , they have a growing jealousy that all parties , formed from the Aristocracy , must possess aristocratic feelings , and , consequently , be opposed to the demands of the people . A very little ...
Pàgina 16
... called on Lord Althorp publicly to abolish the office , it being a perfect sinecure . The annual income is about 11007 . or 12007. , and is made up of about 4007. paid from the annual votes ( taxes ) of the country , 2007. paid by the ...
... called on Lord Althorp publicly to abolish the office , it being a perfect sinecure . The annual income is about 11007 . or 12007. , and is made up of about 4007. paid from the annual votes ( taxes ) of the country , 2007. paid by the ...
Pàgina 36
... called " war - wolves . " One was a sort of pon- derous wooden grate used to break a battering - ram , & c .; the other , which is here meant , was a machine for casting vast stones . Edward I. at the siege of Stirling used one , which ...
... called " war - wolves . " One was a sort of pon- derous wooden grate used to break a battering - ram , & c .; the other , which is here meant , was a machine for casting vast stones . Edward I. at the siege of Stirling used one , which ...
Pàgina 37
... called , for that of a banner - et was only his guydon with the points cut off . + The stones and various missiles of Balista , and other engines , were called " shot , " as the engines and their materials were called “ artillery ...
... called , for that of a banner - et was only his guydon with the points cut off . + The stones and various missiles of Balista , and other engines , were called " shot , " as the engines and their materials were called “ artillery ...
Pàgina 48
... called civilization . Any further description of his writings is incompatible with the li- mits to which we are confined ; a minute examination of them would require a volume , and any thing short of that would be useless . Our purpose ...
... called civilization . Any further description of his writings is incompatible with the li- mits to which we are confined ; a minute examination of them would require a volume , and any thing short of that would be useless . Our purpose ...
Continguts
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Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, Volum 17 William Tait,Christian Isobel Johnstone Visualització completa - 1850 |
Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, Volum 1 William Tait,Christian Isobel Johnstone Visualització completa - 1834 |
Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, Volum 18 William Tait,Christian Isobel Johnstone Visualització completa - 1851 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
appeared arms August beautiful Bill brow Brown Bess Brummagem called character child Church Corn Laws cried dark daughter duties Earl Edinburgh England evil existing eyes face fallacies favour fear feeling give Government Greysteel haberdasher hand happy Haverfield head heart honour Hookey House of Commons Ireland Irish John labour Lady late less light London looked Lord Lord Althorp Lord Hill matter means ment mind Ministers nation nature never night noble o'er October opinion Parliament party persons poem poet political poor present Prince racter Raymond Reform reformed Parliament rose Rousseau Scotland Semichorus September shew sinecure Sir John Byng society soul speak spirit Squire stood Street sweet taxes thee thing thou thought tion tithes Tory Toulouse trade truth turned voice Whigs whole wife word young
Passatges populars
Pàgina 332 - That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the Moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees...
Pàgina 331 - The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread, Leaps on the back of my sailing rack, When the morning star shines dead.
Pàgina 332 - I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky ; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare. And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Pàgina 331 - I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Pàgina 29 - Again, when the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive.
Pàgina 331 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Pàgina 341 - And our singing shall build In the void's loose field A world for the Spirit of Wisdom to wield; We will take our plan From the new world of man, And our work shall be called the Promethean.
Pàgina 333 - Oh, lift me from the grass! I die, I faint, I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas! My heart beats loud and fast; Oh, press it close to thine again, Where it will break at last!
Pàgina 333 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright...
Pàgina 102 - Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love, These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs Uniting their close union ; the woven leaves Make net-work of the dark blue light of day, And the night's noontide clearness, mutable As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns Beneath these canopies extend their swells, Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms Minute, yet beautiful.