Lectures and Essays, المجلد 1

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Macmillan and Company, limited, 1905 - 740 من الصفحات
 

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الصفحة 22 - See! how she leans her cheek upon her hand: O! that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek.
الصفحة 366 - Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met, I own to me's a secret yet...
الصفحة 83 - O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
الصفحة 319 - O wert thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee : Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'.
الصفحة 307 - Burns seemed much affected by the print, or rather by the ideas which it suggested to his mind. He actually shed tears. He asked whose the lines were, and it chanced that nobody but myself remembered that they occur in a half-forgotten poem of Langhorne's, called by the unpromising title of
الصفحة 369 - And she may still exist in undiminished vigour when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's.
الصفحة 302 - What is title? What is treasure? What is reputation's care ? If we lead a life of pleasure 'Tis no matter how or where...
الصفحة 71 - O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand...
الصفحة 316 - MORISON. 0 Mary ! at thy window be ! It is the wish'd, the trysted hour : Those smiles and glances let me see That make the miser's treasure poor ! How blithely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison ! Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed through the lighted ha', To thee my fancy took its wing ; I sat, but neither heard nor saw.
الصفحة 219 - And to urge another argument of a parallel nature: if Christianity were once abolished, how could the Freethinkers, the strong reasoners, and the men of profound learning be able to find another subject so calculated in all points whereon to display their abilities ? What wonderful productions of wit should we be deprived of from those whose genius, by continual practice, hath been wholly turned upon raillery and invectives against religion, and would therefore never be able to shine or distinguish...

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