The Eclectic Magazine: Foreign Literature, Band 35

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John Holmes Agnew, Walter Hilliard Bidwell, Henry T. Steele
Leavitt, Trow & Company, 1855
 

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Seite 476 - Such a spirit is Liberty. At times she takes the form of a hateful reptile. She grovels, she hisses, she stings. But woe to those who in disgust shall venture to crush her! And happy are those who, having dared to receive her in her degraded and frightful shape, shall at length be rewarded by her in the time of her beauty and her glory!
Seite 426 - I can never forget the inexpressible luxury and profaneness, gaming, and all dissoluteness, and as it were total forgetfulness of God, (it being Sunday evening,) which this day se'nnight I was witness of, the King sitting and toying with his concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland...
Seite 457 - I will add to your yoke : my father chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions.
Seite 174 - Strong the earthy odour grows — I smell the mould above the rose ! Welcome Life ! the Spirit strives ! Strength returns and hope revives ; Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn Fly like shadows at the morn, — O'er the earth there comes a bloom ; Sunny light for sullen gloom, Warm perfume for vapour cold — I smell the rose above the mould ! April, 1845.
Seite 540 - A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet...
Seite 477 - These are the old friends who are never seen with new faces, who are the same in wealth and in poverty, in glory and in obscurity. With the dead there is no rivalry. In the dead there is no change. Plato is never sullen. Cervantes is never petulant. Demosthenes never comes unseasonably. Dante never stays too long. No difference of political opinion can alienate Cicero. No heresy can excite the horror of Bossuet.
Seite 478 - Vitus's dance, his rolling walk, his blinking eye, the outward signs which too clearly marked his approbation of his dinner, his insatiable appetite for fish-sauce and...
Seite 476 - They went through the world, like Sir Artegal's iron man Talus with his flail, crushing and trampling down oppressors, mingling with human beings, but having neither part nor lot in human infirmities, insensible to fatigue, to pleasure, and to pain, not to be pierced by any weapon, not to be withstood by any barrier.
Seite 145 - Or chasms and watery depths ; all these have vanish'd ; They live no longer in the faith of reason. But still the heart doth need a language...
Seite 498 - Had I but all of them, thee and thy treasures, What a wild crowd of invisible pleasures! To carry pure death in an earring, a casket, A signet, a fan-mount, a filigree basket!

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