The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 69

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Atlantic Monthly Company, 1892
 

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Página 241 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff d bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Página 139 - THE STORY OF THE GLITTERING PLAIN, which has been also called The Land of the Living Men, or The Acre of the Undying.
Página 329 - 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 !
Página 244 - 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.
Página 618 - The Gothic cathedral is a blossoming in stone subdued by the insatiable demand of harmony in man. The mountain of granite blooms into an eternal flower, with the lightness and delicate finish as well as the aerial proportions and perspective of vegetable beauty. In like manner all public facts are to be individualized, all private facts are to be generalized. Then at once History becomes fluid and true, and Biography deep and sublime.
Página 242 - Now o'er the one half- world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep ; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder, 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.
Página 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...
Página 364 - 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.
Página 242 - 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.
Página 244 - 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. What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house: "Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more!

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