The Irish Quarterly Review, Volumen 8

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W. B. Kelly, 1858

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Página 925 - Mix well, and while stirring, hum o'er, as a spell, The fine old English Gentleman, simmer it well, Sweeten just to your own private liking, then strain, That only the finest and clearest remain, Let it stand out of doors till a soul it receives From the warm lazy sun loitering down through green leaves, And you '11 find a choice nature, not wholly deserving A name either English or Yankee, — just Irving.
Página 466 - To those puny objectors against cards, as nurturing the bad passions, she would retort, that man is a gaming animal. He must be always trying to get the better in something or other: — that this passion can scarcely be more safely expended than upon a game at cards: that cards are a temporary illusion; in truth, a mere drama...
Página 468 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and, lo ! what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Página 966 - Once, ah, once, within these walls, One whom memory oft recalls, The Father of his Country, dwelt. And yonder meadows broad and damp The fires of the besieging camp Encircled with a burning belt. Up and down these echoing stairs, Heavy with the weight of cares, Sounded his majestic tread ; Yes, within this very room Sat he in those hours of gloom, Weary both in heart and head.
Página 980 - THE OPEN WINDOW. THE old house by the lindens Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravelled pathway The light and shadow played. I saw the nursery windows Wide open to the air ; But the faces of the children, They were no longer there.
Página 977 - The open Window," are all most adequate and inexpressibly delicate renderings of quite universal emotions. There is a humanity in them which is irresistible in the fit measures to which they are wedded. If some elegiac...
Página 709 - Supposing that one thousand families in this city would be constant customers for infants' flesh, besides others who might have it at merry-meetings, particularly at weddings and christenings, I compute that Dublin would take off annually about twenty thousand carcasses, and the rest of the kingdom (where probably they will be sold somewhat cheaper) the remaining eighty thousand.
Página 468 - So, we'll go no more a roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword out-wears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Love itself have rest.
Página 39 - Typographical Antiquities: being an historical account of printing in England; with some memoirs of our ancient printers, and a register of the books printed- by them from the year 1471 to 1500. With an appendix concerning printing in Scotland and Ireland to the same time.
Página 469 - So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a roving By the light of the moon.

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