The Bijou; or, Annual of literature and the artsWilliam Pickering, 1828 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 47
Page 3
... things of each human heart ! Yet shall we mourn , gentle child ! for this ? Life hath enough of yet holier bliss ! Such be thy portion ! -the bliss to look With a reverent spirit , through Nature's book ; By fount , by forest , by ...
... things of each human heart ! Yet shall we mourn , gentle child ! for this ? Life hath enough of yet holier bliss ! Such be thy portion ! -the bliss to look With a reverent spirit , through Nature's book ; By fount , by forest , by ...
Page 4
... thing whereof my geste I frame I wish ' twere yet to do , An guard not God and Holy Dame , ' tis war that must ensue . I mean the articles abhorred of this their Trail - baston ; † Except the king himself our lord , God send his malison ...
... thing whereof my geste I frame I wish ' twere yet to do , An guard not God and Holy Dame , ' tis war that must ensue . I mean the articles abhorred of this their Trail - baston ; † Except the king himself our lord , God send his malison ...
Page 6
... things , them to the winds I throw . The Martin and the Neville are worthy folk indeed ; Their prayers are sure , albeit we're poor - salvation be their meed ! But for Belflour and Spigurnel , they are a cruel seed ; God send them in my ...
... things , them to the winds I throw . The Martin and the Neville are worthy folk indeed ; Their prayers are sure , albeit we're poor - salvation be their meed ! But for Belflour and Spigurnel , they are a cruel seed ; God send them in my ...
Page 18
... things that never had life , neither move they upon the earth - behold they seem precious to mine eyes . O that a man might live without the breath of his nostrils , so I might abide in darkness and blackness , and an empty space ! Yea ...
... things that never had life , neither move they upon the earth - behold they seem precious to mine eyes . O that a man might live without the breath of his nostrils , so I might abide in darkness and blackness , and an empty space ! Yea ...
Page 20
... things that then were not ; steeples , and battlements , and ships with naked masts . As far from the wood as a boy might sling a pebble of the brook , there was one rock by itself at a small dis- tance from the main ridge . It had been ...
... things that then were not ; steeples , and battlements , and ships with naked masts . As far from the wood as a boy might sling a pebble of the brook , there was one rock by itself at a small dis- tance from the main ridge . It had been ...
Common terms and phrases
Adam Ferguson appeared Appollonia Augustus Fox Baal baron Battle of Montiel beautiful Beauvilliers BEGUE beneath brave breath bright brow Cain Cathleen Chancery Lane cheek child cried crown 8vo dark David Wilkie dost doth dream Earl exclaimed eyes fair farewell father fear flowers Gabriella grace grave grief GUESCLIN Halloran hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Hogan honour hope HOUSSAYE husband John Gibson Lockhart King Lady Leonora Leverton light look Lord MARIA DE PADILLA Master Bertram Master Toby morning never night noble o'er old woman ONIS Painted passed Pedlar Pedro PEREZ poor Portrait Queen R.A. Engraved racter Reichenstein replied RODRIGO rose round S. T. Coleridge scarcely Sir Thomas Lawrence sleep smile SOLDIER soul Stothard sweet tell thee thine thing Thomas Thomas Stothard thou art thought turned voice vols William Pickering young youth
Popular passages
Page 24 - All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair — The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Page 139 - Youth! for years so many and sweet, 'Tis known that Thou and I were one, I'll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:— And thou wert aye a masker bold!
Page 24 - The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — And Winter, slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
Page 20 - Fairly began — but finish'd not; And fruitless, late remorse doth trace — Like Hebrew lore a backward pace — Her irrecoverable race. Disjointed numbers; sense unknit Huge reams of folly, shreds of wit; Compose the mingled mass of it. My scalded eyes no longer brook Upon this ink-blurr'd thing to look — Go, shut the leaves, and clasp the book.
Page 138 - twixt Now and Then! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands, How lightly then it flashed along: — Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar, That fear no spite of wind or tide! Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in't together.
Page 140 - A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree : And lo ! where Mary leans her head, Two dear names carved upon the tree ! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow...
Page 12 - neath the curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came ; And lo ! creation widened in man's view.
Page 138 - Tis known, that Thou and I were one, I'll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:— And thou wert aye a masker bold! What strange disguise hast now put on, To make believe, that thou art gone?
Page 304 - Face of the curled streams, with flow'rs as many As the young spring gives, and as choice as any ; Here be all new delights, cool streams and wells ; Arbours o'ergrown with woodbines, caves and dells ; Choose where thou wilt...
Page xi - With the hare through the copses and dingles wild ! With the butterfly over the heath, fair child ? Yes : the light fall of thy bounding feet Hath not startled the wren from her mossy seat ; Yet hast thou ranged the green forest-dells, And brought back a treasure of buds and bells.