Mnenja - Napišite recenzijo
Na običajnih mestih nismo našli nobenih recenzij.
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Stran 147 - I see before me the Gladiator lie; He leans upon his hand, — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony. And his drooped head sinks gradually low, And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow, From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now The arena swims around him, — he is gone Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.
Stran 274 - Now came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale, She all night long her amorous descant sung...
Stran 157 - There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats ; For I am armed so strong in honesty, That they pass by me, as the idle wind, Which I respect not.
Stran 110 - The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me!" cried Bracebridge, laughing. At the sound of his voice, the bark was changed into a yelp of delight, and in a moment he was surrounded and almost overpowered by the caresses of the faithful animals.
Stran 241 - I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love ! Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past ; Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr gurgling kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green ; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
Stran 106 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky ; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die.
Stran 135 - Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne; Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.
Stran 158 - I could weep My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth: I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.