Miscellaneous Writings of the Late Dr. Maginn, Volum 2Redfield, 1855 |
Inni boken
Resultat 1-5 av 31
Side 26
... Dublin , by the late Jon- athan Blewitt , who died in 1854. He was an Englishman , but had accurately caught the particular characteristics of an Irish jig tune . The words were written long after the music - authorship unknown . - In ...
... Dublin , by the late Jon- athan Blewitt , who died in 1854. He was an Englishman , but had accurately caught the particular characteristics of an Irish jig tune . The words were written long after the music - authorship unknown . - In ...
Side 47
... Dublin , and about 20,000 persons assembled at Dunleary , to receive “ Sir Daniel Donnelly , " and , mount- ing him on a white horse , escorted him to his house in Townshend street , where he made them a speech and drank to their health ...
... Dublin , and about 20,000 persons assembled at Dunleary , to receive “ Sir Daniel Donnelly , " and , mount- ing him on a white horse , escorted him to his house in Townshend street , where he made them a speech and drank to their health ...
Side 48
... Dublin , satisfied with being held the most formidable Buffer ( so our good Irish friends denominate Pugilists ) among a potato - fed population of upwards of five millions . No one who has been in Ireland will suppose that Sir Daniel ...
... Dublin , satisfied with being held the most formidable Buffer ( so our good Irish friends denominate Pugilists ) among a potato - fed population of upwards of five millions . No one who has been in Ireland will suppose that Sir Daniel ...
Side 49
... Dublin —some of them eminently beautiful . It was not to be thought that such a man would be permitted to leave us , without the meed of some melodious tear ; and we are happy to see among the " Luctus , " the names of Moore , Maturin ...
... Dublin —some of them eminently beautiful . It was not to be thought that such a man would be permitted to leave us , without the meed of some melodious tear ; and we are happy to see among the " Luctus , " the names of Moore , Maturin ...
Side 61
... Dublin ; and you meet thousands and tens of thousands every day , and in every company , who main- tain that the champion is now in Edinburgh . If you have seen him on any of your dissecting tables there , pray let me know.— But I hear ...
... Dublin ; and you meet thousands and tens of thousands every day , and in every company , who main- tain that the champion is now in Edinburgh . If you have seen him on any of your dissecting tables there , pray let me know.— But I hear ...
Andre utgaver - Vis alle
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
bard beauty Blackwood Blackwood's Magazine bottle called Catty charming Christopher North claret Cockney Colonel Pride Cork Crabstick cried dark dear death delightful Derry Docther Doctor Dowden drink Dublin English eyes fair feeling fellow gentleman give glass gone hand head hear heart honour hour Ireland Irish j'ai vu Judas John Gilpin King lady lament Latin Leigh Hunt letter living London Lonfa malura dondaine Lonfa malura dondé look Lord Byron Mary Ambree Matthew Lloyd Mazeppa mihi mind Miss morning never night North o'er Odoherty once person poem poet poetry recollect sing Sir Daniel Donnelly song soul spirit Street sure sweet tears tell thatt thee there's thing Thomas Pride thou thought tion Tol lol town translation Trinity College Twas verse wance Whig wine wish woman word young ελελεν φεν
Populære avsnitt
Side 198 - That light whose smile kindles the universe, That beauty in which all things work and move, That benediction which the eclipsing curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which, through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Side 19 - Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Side 195 - There creeps A clinging, black, contaminating mist About me. . . 'tis substantial, heavy, thick, I cannot pluck it from me, for it glues My fingers and my limbs to one another, And eats into my sinews, and dissolves My flesh to a pollution, poisoning The subtle, pure, and inmost spirit of life!
Side 125 - I have even avoided introducing the Deity, as in Scripture (though Milton does, and not very wisely either) ; but have adopted his angel, as sent to Cain, instead, on purpose to avoid shocking any feelings on the subject, by falling short of, what all uninspired men must fall short in, viz. giving an adequate notion of the effect of the presence of Jehovah. The old Mysteries introduced him liberally enough, and all this is avoided in the new one.
Side 125 - Attacks upon me were to be expected, but I perceive one upon you in the papers, which I confess that I did not expect. How, or in what manner, you can be considered responsible for what / publish, I am at a loss to conceive. " If ' Cain' be ' blasphemous,' Paradise Lost is blasphemous ; and the very words of the Oxford gentleman,
Side 192 - We are not now to defend a publication so well able to defend itself. But the fact is, that the Quarterly finding before it a work at once silly and presumptuous, full of the servile slang that Cockaigne dictates to its servitors, and the vulgar indecorums which that...
Side 120 - My dear ant,") angrily exclaiming, " What, child ! have you been shut up here three hours to call your aunt a pismire ?" From that hour of humiliation I have too often groaned under the endurance of similar penance, and I have learnt from my own sufferings to compassionate those of my dear sisters in affliction. To...
Side 125 - Paradise Lost is blasphemous ; and the very words of the Oxford gentleman, ' Evil, be thou my good,' are from that very poem, from the mouth of Satan, and is there any thing...
Side 312 - Here's, then, to the days gone by — to the memory of my first love, and my first libation of rum over a cigar ! Some young heart is now going the same round as I was then — revelling in delights which he fondly fancies are to last for ever — anticipating joys which never are destined to exist. Light be his heart, buoyant his spirits — I shall not break in on his dreams by the croaking of experience. Farewell again, Cecilia ! I never saw her after that day — in the evening she left Bristol...
Side 219 - The poesy of this young lord belongs to the class which neither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction from that exact standard. His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get above or below the level, than if they were so much stagnant water.