The Eton Bureau, Թողարկում 1-6Ingalton and Son, 1842 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 52–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 9
... soul ? The seven years have not yet expired . " * " Or to take care of the hundred candles which burn constantly by his tomb ? " added a third friend . " No , good faith , " said Lord Dacre ; + " and yet have I lit on a device whereby ...
... soul ? The seven years have not yet expired . " * " Or to take care of the hundred candles which burn constantly by his tomb ? " added a third friend . " No , good faith , " said Lord Dacre ; + " and yet have I lit on a device whereby ...
Էջ 13
... soul . " " That do they , by my faith , " said Roidon , " and call him almost a saint . Oh ! they care well for his soul , the pious brotherhood ; do they so for thine , Lord Dacre ? " " Nay , I am not so pious , " said he ; " I send a ...
... soul . " " That do they , by my faith , " said Roidon , " and call him almost a saint . Oh ! they care well for his soul , the pious brotherhood ; do they so for thine , Lord Dacre ? " " Nay , I am not so pious , " said he ; " I send a ...
Էջ 25
... , While agony unmixt its boon to hell . * Shame on us that our low notions of education have made " pedagogue " so contemptuous a term , that one must have resort to the Greek . For Ever , sank into the soul of Eve , ETON BUREAU . 25.
... , While agony unmixt its boon to hell . * Shame on us that our low notions of education have made " pedagogue " so contemptuous a term , that one must have resort to the Greek . For Ever , sank into the soul of Eve , ETON BUREAU . 25.
Էջ 26
For Ever , sank into the soul of Eve , When , broken - hearted , yet to heaven resign'd , She sigh'd , " and must I leave thee , Eden ? leave The flowers that knew my wanton locks to bind ? " On Tajo's shore how pants that soul for ...
For Ever , sank into the soul of Eve , When , broken - hearted , yet to heaven resign'd , She sigh'd , " and must I leave thee , Eden ? leave The flowers that knew my wanton locks to bind ? " On Tajo's shore how pants that soul for ...
Էջ 32
... soul to meet the fatal blow With the calm dignity of manly woe : Thus in the marble live the father's * pangs , As writhe his sons beneath the serpent's fangs ; Himself untamed , till overwhelming fate Shall crush each youthful form ...
... soul to meet the fatal blow With the calm dignity of manly woe : Thus in the marble live the father's * pangs , As writhe his sons beneath the serpent's fangs ; Himself untamed , till overwhelming fate Shall crush each youthful form ...
Common terms and phrases
Æneid Apollonius Rhodius barque beauty better breath bright Burton calm castle Catullus character charm child clouds dare dark dear death doth earth Eton Bureau Etonians evil eyes fair faith fancy fear feelings gaze gentle George Morland Georgics give grace grave Gwendolen hand happy hath heard heart heaven Herstmonceux holy honour hope King knew Ladon leave light live look Lord Byron Lord Dacre Lycophron Menedemus mind nature never night o'er once passed perhaps Phormio poet poor prayer Procles Puddletown readers round scarce scene scorn seemed shame shew shuffler sigh similes smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stream sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought told TOMMY GREEN truth Unterwalden verse Virgil waves wind Windsor Castle words write young youth
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 316 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Էջ 274 - MAN, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.
Էջ 229 - The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things : There is no armour against fate : Death lays his icy hands on kings : Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Էջ 267 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Էջ 187 - Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Էջ 143 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth...
Էջ 265 - Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me : the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter*, more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
Էջ 335 - THE POET'S SONG. THE rain had fallen, the Poet arose, He pass'd by the town and out of the street, A light wind blew from the gates of the sun, And waves of shadow went over the wheat, And he sat him down in a lonely place, And chanted a melody loud and sweet, That made the wild-swan pause in her cloud, And the lark drop down at his feet.
Էջ 229 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom...
Էջ 114 - The youth, he cried, whom I exiled Shall be restored to woo her. She's at the window many an hour His coming to discover: And he look'd up to Ellen's bower And she look'd on her lover — But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwelling — And am I then forgot — forgot? It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Her...