Dies Boreales: Or Christopher Under Canvass
A. Hart, 1850 - 363 من الصفحات
Seven papers which appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, June to September, 1849, November, 1849 and April to May, 1850.
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Achilles Æneas Æneid Alison Bagpipe Banquo beautiful believe Bianca blood breath Buller Cassio Cawdor Christopher North Cladich comes Cruachan Cyprus dear Seward dear sir dear Talboys death Desdemona devil Divine doubt earth Emilia eyes fear feel gentlemen Ghost give Gutta Percha hand happy hear heart heaven History Homer hour human Iago Iago's Iliad imagination Inishail King knew Lady Lenox living Loch Lochawe look Lord Macbeth Macduff mean mind Moral morning murder nature never night North once Othello Paradise Lost passion Phlegethon Play Poet poetical Poetry Prose racter reason Salmo Ferox Scene Scotland sense Seward Shakspeare Shakspeare's sitting sleep Soliloquy soul speak spirit stand Stanza sublime tell Tent Thane thee things thou thought thunder tion Tragedy true truth understand Venice Verse Virgil Virtue Weird Sisters whole wife Witch words
الصفحة 237 - Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
الصفحة 253 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
الصفحة 323 - I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I am bound for life, and education; My life, and education, both do learn me How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty, I am hitherto your daughter: But here's my husband; And so much duty as my mother show'd To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor, my lord.
الصفحة 240 - Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil.
الصفحة 221 - Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. Witches vanish BANQUO The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them.
الصفحة 173 - The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ; The fall of waters ! rapid as the light The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss; The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat Of their great agony, wrung out from this Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, LXX.
الصفحة 120 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
الصفحة 222 - Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, • Against the use of nature ? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings : My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man, that function Is smother'd in surmise ; and nothing is, But what is not '*. Ban,...
الصفحة 174 - And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again Returns in an unceasing shower, which round, With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, Is an eternal April to the ground, Making it all one emerald : — how profound The gulf ! and how the giant element From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent...
الصفحة 232 - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters : — To beguile the time, Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it. He that's coming Must be provided for : and you shall put This night's great business into my despatch : Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.