The Eton Bureau, الأعداد 1-6Ingalton and Son, 1842 |
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الصفحة 9
... tell , another of his boon companions ; " wilt go and help Friar John to sing the requiem for thy father's soul ? The seven years have not yet expired . " * " Or to take care of the hundred candles which burn constantly by his tomb ...
... tell , another of his boon companions ; " wilt go and help Friar John to sing the requiem for thy father's soul ? The seven years have not yet expired . " * " Or to take care of the hundred candles which burn constantly by his tomb ...
الصفحة 11
... tell me thy dream to - morrow , my business is urgent , I must go . " " Tell me then , at least , " said lady Dacre , " what busi- ness hast thou , Thomas , to call thee forth this troubled night ? " " O ! it is of no very great ...
... tell me thy dream to - morrow , my business is urgent , I must go . " " Tell me then , at least , " said lady Dacre , " what busi- ness hast thou , Thomas , to call thee forth this troubled night ? " " O ! it is of no very great ...
الصفحة 23
... tell me that you have not seen humility defaced , friendly confidence impaired , the sense of shame misused , obedience dethroned from her rightful heart - rule , and the precept of preferring one another in honour , almost blotted out ...
... tell me that you have not seen humility defaced , friendly confidence impaired , the sense of shame misused , obedience dethroned from her rightful heart - rule , and the precept of preferring one another in honour , almost blotted out ...
الصفحة 25
... tell ; A mingled cup it tenders here on earth , While agony unmixt its boon to hell . * Shame on us that our low notions of education have made " pedagogue " so contemptuous a term , that one must have resort to the Greek . For Ever ...
... tell ; A mingled cup it tenders here on earth , While agony unmixt its boon to hell . * Shame on us that our low notions of education have made " pedagogue " so contemptuous a term , that one must have resort to the Greek . For Ever ...
الصفحة 26
... tell or think What harmony divine enchants the breast That dares call heaven its own , and deeply drink From springs unfailing of eternal rest ? To where appall'd the dying sceptic lies , From these we lingering turn our sadden'd sight ...
... tell or think What harmony divine enchants the breast That dares call heaven its own , and deeply drink From springs unfailing of eternal rest ? To where appall'd the dying sceptic lies , From these we lingering turn our sadden'd sight ...
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...