The Monthly Anthology, and Boston Review, Band 8

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David Phineas Adams, Samuel Cooper Thacher, William Emerson
Munroe and Francis, 1810
vol. 3-4 include appendix: "The Political cabinet."
 

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Seite 166 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Seite 124 - The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was descended from a long line of Dutch burgomasters who had successively dozed away their lives and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam, and who had comported themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety that they were never either heard or talked of— which, next to being universally applauded, should be the object of ambition of all magistrates and rulers.
Seite 27 - Suave, mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis, E terra magnum alterius spectare laborem : Non quia vexari quemquam est jucunda voluptas, Sed, quibus ipse malis careas, quia cernere suave est.
Seite 165 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Seite 105 - The most accomplished way of using books at present is two-fold; either first, to serve them as some men do lords, learn their titles exactly and then brag of their acquaintance. Or secondly, which is indeed the choicer, the profounder, and politer method, to get a thorough insight into the index,0 by which the whole book is governed and turned, like fishes by the tail.
Seite 125 - ... casual remark, which I would not for the universe have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller.
Seite 319 - IT was the winter wild, While the heaven-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies ; Nature in awe to Him Had dofft her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize : It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.
Seite 322 - But see ! the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest ; Time is, our tedious song should here have ending: Heaven's youngest-teemed star Hath fixed her polished car, Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessed Angels sit in order serviceable.
Seite 321 - With terror of that blast Shall from the surface to the centre shake, When, at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His throne.
Seite 125 - He was exactly five feet six inches in height and six feet five inches in circumference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendous dimensions that Dame Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct a neck capable of supporting it; wherefore she wisely declined the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his backbone, just between the shoulders.

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