The Athenaeum and Literary Chronicle, Volume 3

W. Lewer, 1828

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Page 770 - The wheels of the watch are all admirably adjusted to the end for which it was made, the pointing of the hour. All their various motions conspire in the nicest manner to produce this effect. If they were endowed with a desire and intention to produce it, they could not do it better. Yet we never ascribe any such...
Page 624 - Tracing the lines of life; assumed through years, Each feature now the steady falsehood wears; With hard and savage eye she views the food, And grudging pinches their intruding brood; Last in the group, the worn-out grandsire sits Neglected, lost, and living but by fits; Useless...
Page 568 - Beauteous in a wilderness, Who, praying always, prays in sleep. And, if she move unquietly, Perchance, 'tis but the blood so free Comes back and tingles in her feet. No doubt, she hath a vision sweet. What if her guardian spirit 'twere, What if she knew her mother near? But this she knows, in joys and woes, That saints will aid if men will call: For the blue sky bends over all ! PART II Each matin bell, the Baron saith, Knells us back to a world of death.
Page 675 - Shakspeare have neither child of their own, nor seem to be descended from any parent. They are foul Anomalies, of whom we know not whence they are sprung, nor whether they have beginning or ending. As they are without human passions, so they seem to be without human relations . They come with thunder and lightning, and vanish to airy music. This is all we know of them. - Except Hecate, they have no names; which heightens their mysteriousness . The names, and some of the properties, which Middleton...
Page 602 - How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Page 605 - I'D be a butterfly born in a bower, Where roses and lilies and violets meet ; Roving for ever from flower to flower, Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet.
Page 568 - Large tears that leave the lashes bright ! And oft the while she seems to smile As infants at a sudden light ! Yea, she doth smile, and she doth weep, Like a youthful hermitess, Beauteous in a wilderness, Who, praying always, prays in sleep. And, if she move unquietly, Perchance, 'tis but the blood so free, Comes back and tingles in her feet.
Page 624 - And half protected by the vicious son, Who half supports him; he with heavy glance Views the young ruffians who around him dance; And, by the sadness in his face, appears To trace the progress of their future years Through what strange course of misery, vice, deceit, Must wildly wander each unpractised cheat!
Page 657 - ... their speech is to be fashioned to a distinct and clear pronunciation, as near as may be to the Italian, especially in the vowels. For we Englishmen being far northerly, do not open our mouths in the cold air wide enough to grace a Southern tongue; but are observed by all other nations to speak exceeding close and inward: so that to smatter Latin with an English mouth is as ill a hearing as law French.
Page 675 - Those originate deeds of blood, and begin bad impulses to men. From the moment that their eyes first meet with Macbeth's, he is spell-bound. That meeting sways his destiny. He can never break the fascination. These Witches can hurt the body ; those have power over the soul. — Hecate in Middleton has a...

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