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The Red dragon, the national magazine of Wales. Ed. by C. Wilkins, Volum 7
The Red dragon, the national magazine of Wales. Ed. by C. Wilkins, Volum 1
Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1882
The Red dragon, the national magazine of Wales. Ed. by C. Wilkins, Volum 8
Abergavenny Aberystwith Amos ancient appears asked bards Baxendale Baxendale's Beaumaris beauty Blake called Cardiff castle century Church cloth DANIEL OWEN daughter dear death English eyes face father fear feeling gilt edges give hand heart hills honour horse hundred Illustrated interest Iolo Iolo Morganwg Jones Knight of Malta lady land language Larry Larry O'Neill late letter living Llandaff London look Lord married Mathew meeting mind Miss months mother Narberth National neighbourhood never night Norah North Wales O'Neill once passed Pembrokeshire present Price published Pwyll Radyr Red Dragon religious Rivers scene seems Society South Wales Stonehenge Street Swansea tell Tenby things Thomas thou thought told town translation vols walk Welsh Welsh language Welshmen WESTERN MAIL wife William words young
Side 211 - How absolute the knave is ! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us.
Side 266 - Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ! A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet home ! There's no place like home.
Side 412 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Side 413 - Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
Side 313 - Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.
Side 30 - I find a magic bark ; I leap on board : no helmsman steers : I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels bear the holy Grail : With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision ! blood of God ! My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. When on my goodly charger borne Thro* dreaming towns I go, The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, The streets are dumb with snow.
Side 412 - Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Side 466 - HOW TO PURCHASE A PLOT OF LAND FOR FIVE SHILLINGS PER MONTH, With Immediate Possession, either for Building or Gardening Purposes. Apply at the Office of the BIRKBECK FREEHOLD LAND SOCIETY.
Side 412 - Hell is murky! — Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? — Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?
Side 210 - I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he so, I should do him injury to compare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat, insipid ; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets " Quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.* The consideration of this made Mr.