The Eton Bureau, الأعداد 1-6Ingalton and Son, 1842 |
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النتائج 1-5 من 36
الصفحة 8
... hour for those days ; the clock of the castle had already tolled nine , and symp- toms of the approach of " the drowsie god " were already appearing in the melancholy silence , which at length be- gan to prevail . The songs , which ...
... hour for those days ; the clock of the castle had already tolled nine , and symp- toms of the approach of " the drowsie god " were already appearing in the melancholy silence , which at length be- gan to prevail . The songs , which ...
الصفحة 16
... Contemned vows , crush'd hope , and dark disdain Cling to the past , and snatch the present hour , The last , and sweetest drop ; the fairest , fleetest flower ! Oft by that aged river straying , Whereon the sunbeams 16 ETON BUREAU .
... Contemned vows , crush'd hope , and dark disdain Cling to the past , and snatch the present hour , The last , and sweetest drop ; the fairest , fleetest flower ! Oft by that aged river straying , Whereon the sunbeams 16 ETON BUREAU .
الصفحة 33
... hours of suspense , I was de- lighted to hear " Moody's Original " rumble through the street , and stop before the gate of the Christopher . Scarcely had a saucy porter deposited on the floor a " 6 trunk , a hamper of game , and ETON ...
... hours of suspense , I was de- lighted to hear " Moody's Original " rumble through the street , and stop before the gate of the Christopher . Scarcely had a saucy porter deposited on the floor a " 6 trunk , a hamper of game , and ETON ...
الصفحة 35
... hour of twelve , I was reminded by an old Dutch clock , my neighbour and fellow - sufferer , that I must prepare myself to meet my oppressor . For a full hour he would sit before me , engaged in transcribing passages from the poetæ ...
... hour of twelve , I was reminded by an old Dutch clock , my neighbour and fellow - sufferer , that I must prepare myself to meet my oppressor . For a full hour he would sit before me , engaged in transcribing passages from the poetæ ...
الصفحة 44
... hour , it has , in the opinion of many , fulfilled its office . To us it seems that something higher is involved . A feather will show which way the wind blows ; an ephemeral production , thrown up on the surface of the stream ...
... hour , it has , in the opinion of many , fulfilled its office . To us it seems that something higher is involved . A feather will show which way the wind blows ; an ephemeral production , thrown up on the surface of the stream ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
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
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 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...
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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...
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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.
الصفحة 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...
الصفحة 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...