Τι λένε οι χρήστες - Σύνταξη κριτικής
Δεν εντοπίσαμε κριτικές στις συνήθεις τοποθεσίες.
Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων
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Σελίδα 76 - 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.
Σελίδα 306 - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him. Oh ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest When they promise a glorious morrow ; They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the West, From her own loved island of sorrow.
Σελίδα 300 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid ; Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps ; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
Σελίδα 306 - SHE is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing ; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
Σελίδα 294 - You, my lord, are a judge ; I am the supposed culprit: I am a man, you are a man also; by a revolution of power we might change places, though we never could change characters. If I stand at the bar of this court and dare not vindicate my character, what a farce is your justice?
Σελίδα 297 - I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world - it is the charity of its silence ! Let no man write my epitaph: for as no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them.
Σελίδα 295 - By you, too, who, if it were possible to collect all the innocent blood that you have shed in your unhallowed ministry, in one great reservoir, your lordship might swim in...
Σελίδα 169 - ... no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery ; the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust ; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty ; his body swells beyond the measure of his chains that burst from around him, and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible Genius of UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION ! [Here Mr.