The St. Peterburg English Review, Band 3

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S. Warrand
1842

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Seite 83 - twould a saint provoke," (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke ;} " No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And — Betty — give this cheek a little red.
Seite 231 - He is a middle-sized, spare man, about forty years old, of a brown complexion and darkbrown coloured hair, but wears a wig ; a hooked nose, a sharp chin, grey eyes, and a large mole near his mouth...
Seite 92 - The man that lays his hand upon a woman, Save in the way of kindness, is a wretch Whom 'twere gross flattery to name a coward.— I'll talk to you, lady, but not beat you.
Seite 118 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Seite 174 - Fear ye not me? Saith the LORD: will ye not tremble at my presence, which have placed the sand for the bound of the sea by a perpetual decree, that it cannot pass it: and though the waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail; though they roar, yet can they not pass over it?
Seite 30 - But, gracious God, how well dost Thou provide For erring judgments an unerring guide ! Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. O teach me to believe Thee thus concealed, And search no farther than Thyself revealed ; But her alone for my director take, Whom Thou hast promised never to forsake...
Seite 37 - For mine is the lay that lightly floats, And mine are the murmuring, dying notes, That fall as soft as snow on the sea, And melt in the heart as instantly...
Seite 27 - Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, And he himself one vile antithesis. Amphibious thing ! that acting either part, The trifling head, or the corrupted heart ; Fop at the toilet, flatterer at the board, Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.
Seite 373 - Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul...
Seite 27 - So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. Whether in florid impotence he speaks, And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks, Or at the ear of Eve, familiar...

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