The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 69

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Atlantic Monthly Company, 1892 - American literature
 

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Page 240 - Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps...
Page 327 - She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; 'The curse is come upon me,
Page 241 - God bless us!" and "Amen" the other: As they had seen me with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say "Amen" When they did say "God bless us!
Page 137 - THE STORY OF THE GLITTERING PLAIN, which has been also called The Land of the Living Men, or The Acre of the Undying.
Page 240 - O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife ! Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eterne. Macb. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ; Then be thou jocund : ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note.
Page 242 - Methought I heard a voice cry "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M.
Page 329 - Set you down this: And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him — thus.
Page 28 - Name of the Council Established at Plymouth in the County of Devon, for the Planting, Ruling, Ordering and Governing of New England in America...
Page 362 - For who knoweth what is good for man in this life, all the days of his vain life which he spendeth as a shadow? for who can tell a man what shall be after him under the sun ? A good name is better than precious ointment ; and the day of death than the day of one's birth.
Page 588 - He touched the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, And now was dropt into the western bay. At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue : To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.

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