The New Monthly Magazine, 12. cilt

Ön Kapak
Thomas Campbell, Samuel Carter Hall, Edward Bulwer Lytton Baron Lytton, Theodore Edward Hook, Thomas Hood, William Harrison Ainsworth
E. W. Allen, 1819
 

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Sayfa 424 - Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff : you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
Sayfa 323 - British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION. No matter in what language his doom may have been pronounced ; — no matter what complexion incompatible with freedom, an Indian or an African sun may have burnt upon him ; — no matter in- what disastrous battle his liberty may have been cloven down...
Sayfa 430 - Stain my man's cheeks! — No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things, — What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep; No, I'll not weep: — I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I'll weep: — O, fool, I shall go mad!
Sayfa 428 - LEAR. Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now.
Sayfa 304 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended ; and, I think, The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
Sayfa 428 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Sayfa 428 - Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow ! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks ! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head ! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man ! 9 Fool.
Sayfa 65 - No, no ! from out the forest prance A trampling troop ; I see them come ! In one vast squadron they advance ! I strove to cry — my lips were dumb. The steeds rush...
Sayfa 314 - The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known; In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Sayfa 323 - I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes liberty commensurate with, and inseparable from, British soil ; which proclaims even to the stranger and the sojourner, the moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of universal emancipation.

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