The Gentleman's Magazine, Volume 282F. Jefferies, 1897 The "Gentleman's magazine" section is a digest of selections from the weekly press; the "(Trader's) monthly intelligencer" section consists of news (foreign and domestic), vital statistics, a register of the month's new publications, and a calendar of forthcoming trade fairs. |
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Palavras e frases frequentes
Adonis Algol Annam appear arms artist Ashtoreth Bacon beautiful Beta Auriga better Bexhill-on-Sea birds called Canzone century character Chinese church Club colour Court Dante death devil dourah Dumuzi Eastbourne Eildon Hills Elizabeth Emperor England English Eugene eyes face factory father figure French friends girls give Goethe hand Harsley heart honour interest Kambula King lady land live looked Lugh Marius marriage married match matter Mizar mother nature never night once parallax passed passion Pater perhaps Pevensey Phiz Pickwick Pietra plate poems poet poor prince Queen round Sainte-Beuve seemed sestina side slaves Somali language spirit splints star story strange things thought tion took town turned vesta Wagner Walter Pater Weimar whole wife wines woman women Woodstock words young
Passagens conhecidas
Página 166 - Of such wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of beauty, the love of art for its own sake, has most. For art comes to you, proposing frankly to give nothing but the highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for those moments
Página 370 - Thammuz came next behind, Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured The Syrian damsels to lament his fate In amorous ditties, all a summer's day; While smooth Adonis from his native rock Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded...
Página 419 - Oft she rejects, but never once offends. Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers strike, And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride, Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide: If to her share some female errors fall, Look on her face, and you'll forget them all.
Página 301 - I behold like a Spanish great galleon, and an English man-of-war ; Master Jonson (like the former) was built far higher in learning ; solid, but slow in his performances. Shakespeare with the English man-ofwar, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention.
Página 184 - How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
Página 133 - Here lies Fred, Who was alive, and is dead. Had it been his father, I had much rather. Had it been his brother, Still better than another. Had it been his sister, No one would have missed her. Had it been the whole generation, Still better for the nation. But since 'tis only Fred, Who was alive, and is dead, There's no more to be said.
Página 165 - While all melts under our feet, we may well catch at any exquisite passion, or any contribution to knowledge that seems, by a lifted horizon, to set the spirit free for a moment, or any stirring of the senses, strange dyes, strange flowers, and curious odours, or work of the artist's hands, or the face of one's friend.
Página 193 - Temo la infamia di tanta passione avere seguita, quanta concepe chi legge le soprannominate Canzoni in me avere signoreggiato; la quale infamia si cessa, per lo presente di me parlare, interamente; lo quale mostra che non passione, ma virtù sie stata la movente cagione...
Página 169 - ... us, — for that moment only. Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end. A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a variegated, dramatic life. How may we see in them all that is to be seen in them by the finest senses?
Página 292 - ROSE AYLMER AH, WHAT avails the sceptred race! Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.