The London Magazine, Volum 10

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Taylor and Hessey, 1824
 

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Frases i termes més freqüents

Passatges populars

Pàgina 509 - Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; Neither turneth he back from the sword.
Pàgina 220 - Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines ; Curl me about, ye gadding vines ; And oh so close your circles lace, That I may never leave this place ; But, lest your fetters prove too weak, Ere I your silken bondage break, Do you, O brambles, chain me too, And courteous briars, nail me through.
Pàgina 32 - Great in the earth as in the ethereal frame ; Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees, Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent...
Pàgina 81 - Pray, do not mock me. I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less; And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Pàgina 512 - And when she could not longer hide him, she took for him an ark of" bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein; and she laid it in the flags by the river's brink.
Pàgina 78 - Hear, Nature, hear ! dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb convey sterility ! Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her ! If she must teem...
Pàgina 518 - I had no sooner spoken these words, but a loud, though yet gentle noise came from the heavens, (for it was like nothing on earth,) which did so comfort and cheer me, that I took my petition as granted, and that I had the sign demanded, whereupon also I resolved to print my book.
Pàgina 518 - Veritate ; if it be for thy glory, I beseech thee give me some sign from Heaven ; if not, I shall suppress it.
Pàgina 80 - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Pàgina 509 - Ha, Ha!" And he smelleth the battle afar off, The thunder of the captains, and the shouting.

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