ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
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الصفحة 75 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on : 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the " Nervii: Look, in this place ran Cassius...
الصفحة 103 - His face is growing sharp and thin. Alack ! our friend is gone. Close up his eyes : tie up his chin : Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone, And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And a new face at the door, my friend, A new face at the door.
الصفحة 103 - em away. Old year, you must not go. So long as you have been with us, Such joy as you have seen with us, Old year, you shall not go ! He frothed his bumpers to the brim ; A jollier year we shall not see. But tho' his eyes are waxing dim, And tho' his foes speak ill of him, He was a friend to me ! Old year, you shall not die.
الصفحة 101 - Stoop o er me from above ; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold, soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, Like some old poet's rhymes.
الصفحة 171 - HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires: As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires: — Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
الصفحة 204 - OH, fairest of the rural maids ! Thy birth was in the forest shades ; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, Were all that met thine infant eye. Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, Were ever in the sylvan wild ; And all the beauty of the place Is in thy heart and on thy fane.
الصفحة 101 - O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before ! Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, And they complain no more.
الصفحة 201 - I have heard that Mr. Shakspeare was a natural wit, without any art at all ; hee frequented the plays all his younger time, but in his elder days lived at Stratford, and supplied the stage with two plays every year, and for itt had an allowance so large, that hee spent att the rate of 1,000/. a-year, as I have heard.
الصفحة 108 - FLORENCE VANE. I loved thee long and dearly, Florence Vane; My life's bright dream, and early, Hath come again; I renew, in my fond vision, My heart's dear pain, My hope, and thy derision, Florence Vane. The ruin lone and hoary, The ruin old, Where thou didst hark my story, At even told,— That spot—the hues Elysian Of sky and plain— I treasure in my vision, Florence Vane.