Què opinen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
admiration appearance Atkins beautiful become better called carried Chatham comes common considered cried dear Devil dinner door English eyes face fact fashionable feel gentleman girl give hand happy head hear heard heart honour hope hour human hundred keep kind known lady leave light live London look Lord manner master means mind Miss morning mother nature never night once Ormsby pass perhaps person play poor present reader replied respectable returned round seems seen shilling side smile sometimes speak spirit stands Street sure Susan taken tell thing thought thousand Tibbits took turn voice walk whole wife wish wonder young
Pàgina 367 - Behold, thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth ; and from thy face shall I be hid ; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me.
Pàgina 338 - Here lies our Sovereign Lord the King, Whose word no man relies on ; Who never said a foolish thing, And never did a wise one.
Pàgina 337 - All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Pàgina 369 - And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.
Pàgina 290 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Pàgina 233 - Now the bright morning-star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And...
Pàgina 205 - Sages, do not think my prayer Bespeaks unseemly forwardness — send me ! The coarsest reed that trembles in the marsh, If Heaven select it for its instrument, May shed celestial music on the breeze, As clearly as the pipe whose virgin gold Befits the lip of Phoebus ; — ye are wise ; And needed by your country ; ye are fathers ! I am a lone stray thing, whose little life By strangers...
Pàgina 81 - The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule That every man in want is knave or fool : " God cannot love" (says Blunt, with tearless eyes) " The wretch he starves" — and piously denies: But the good bishop, with a meeker air, Admits, and leaves them, Providence's care.