The Edinburgh Review: Or Critical Journal, Band 140

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A. Constable, 1874
 

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Seite 488 - But the court which is without the temple leave out, and measure it not; for it is given unto the Gentiles: and the holy city shall they tread under foot forty and two months.
Seite 358 - FAIR Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon : As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attained his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song ; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a Spring ; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or any thing. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the Summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
Seite 358 - Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, The shooting stars attend thee, And the elves also, Whose little eyes glow Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
Seite 359 - Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on, which they did bring, It was too wide a peck; And to say truth (for out it must) It looked like the great collar (.just) About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they feared the light.
Seite 488 - And I saw the woman drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus: and when I saw her, I wondered with great admiration.
Seite 359 - Her lips were red; and one was thin Compared to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly) ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze, Than on the sun in July.
Seite 489 - ... shall hate the whore, and shall make her desolate and naked, and shall eat her flesh, and burn her with fire.
Seite 362 - To make verse speak the language of prose, without being prosaic, — to marshal the words of it in such an order as they might naturally take in falling from the lips of an extemporary speaker, yet without meanness, harmoniously, elegantly, and without seeming to displace a syllable for the sake of the rhyme, is one of the most arduous tasks a poet can undertake. He that could accomplish this task was Prior ; many have imitated his excellence in this particular, but the best copies have fallen far...
Seite 489 - Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man ; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six.
Seite 363 - Euphelia's toilet lay ; When Chloe noted her desire, That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise ; But with my numbers mix my sighs : And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise, I fix my soul on Chloe's eyes.

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