The Republic of Letters: A Selection, in Poetry and Prose, from the Works of the Most Eminent Writers, with Many Original Pieces, Volume 2Blackie & Son, 1835 - Literature |
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Page 5
... passed without almost any con- versation , and I went upon deck whenever it was over . The tem- pest of the preceding night had in a great measure abated , but the sea still raged , and a black mist hovered over it , through which the ...
... passed without almost any con- versation , and I went upon deck whenever it was over . The tem- pest of the preceding night had in a great measure abated , but the sea still raged , and a black mist hovered over it , through which the ...
Page 10
... passed him , he shrunk back with an expression of dread , and in- tuitively , as it were , caught hold of a rope , or any other object to which he could cling . The day proved a wretched and fearful one to me , for I momentarily ...
... passed him , he shrunk back with an expression of dread , and in- tuitively , as it were , caught hold of a rope , or any other object to which he could cling . The day proved a wretched and fearful one to me , for I momentarily ...
Page 14
... passed , in the course of which I did not start up , and look around . Angerstoff paced the deck overhead , and when the sound of his footsteps accidentally ceased at any time , I grew deadly sick at 14 REPUBLIC OF LETTERS .
... passed , in the course of which I did not start up , and look around . Angerstoff paced the deck overhead , and when the sound of his footsteps accidentally ceased at any time , I grew deadly sick at 14 REPUBLIC OF LETTERS .
Page 15
... passed . I began to peruse the volume I held in my hand , and found it so interesting that I paid little attention to any thing else , till the dashing of oars struck my ear . I sprung from my chair , with the intention of hastening ...
... passed . I began to peruse the volume I held in my hand , and found it so interesting that I paid little attention to any thing else , till the dashing of oars struck my ear . I sprung from my chair , with the intention of hastening ...
Page 16
... passed without . Some one asked Angerstoff how Morvalden did.— " Well , quite well , " replied the former ; " but he's below , and so sick that he can't see any person . " - " Strange enough , " said the first speaker , laughing . " Is ...
... passed without . Some one asked Angerstoff how Morvalden did.— " Well , quite well , " replied the former ; " but he's below , and so sick that he can't see any person . " - " Strange enough , " said the first speaker , laughing . " Is ...
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Other editions - View all
The Republic of Letters: A Selection, in Poetry and Prose, from the Works of ... Alexander Whitelaw No preview available - 2017 |
The Republic of Letters: A Selection, in Poetry and Prose, from the Works of ... Alexander Whitelaw No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
Angelo Angerstoff arms beautiful bosom Boufflers Boyar brother called Captain Charles Charlotte Lennox cheek Christina Claudio Colonel companion countenance cried cuckoo dark daughter dear death deck Donovan door duke Elizabeth exclaimed eyes face fancy fat friar father fear feel felt Finnan haddie frae gaze girl Glasgow hand happy head hear heard heart heaven Holy Island honour hope horse hour husband Isabel James Somers Jessie KILCHURN CASTLE knew lady Larry Last Judgment laugh light living look Lord lover Marietta marriage maun mind morning Morvalden mother never night Nugent o'er pale passed poor replied returned Robin Robin Hood round roundhead seemed silence smile soon sorrow spirit stood stranger Strelitz sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought turned Uncle Ben voice wife woman wonder word young youth
Popular passages
Page 398 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest ? What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn ? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be ; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Page 337 - Cast thy bread upon the waters : for thou shall find it after many days.
Page 66 - Grey-headed Shepherd, thou hast spoken well; Small difference lies between thy creed and mine : This Beast not unobserved by Nature fell ; His death was mourned by sympathy divine. The Being, that is in the clouds and air, That is in the green leaves among the groves, Maintains a deep and reverential care For the unoffending creatures whom he loves.
Page 397 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Page 64 - The moving accident is not my trade : To freeze the blood I have no ready arts : "Tis my delight, alone in summer shade, To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
Page 133 - It is but lost labour that ye haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat the bread of carefulness : for so he giveth his beloved sleep.
Page 65 - There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep, Will wet his lips within that cup of stone ; And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep, This water doth send forth a dolorous groan.
Page 398 - O attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, Beauty is truth, truth beauty,— that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Page 148 - THE warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the year On the earth, her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying.
Page 130 - Thou art gone to the grave ! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side, But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Sinless has died.