Tickler, Or, Monthly Compendium of Good Things, in Prose and Verse: Blending, (with Many Original Articles of Interest and Amusement,) a Compilation from the Most Esteemed Authors of Former Times : with a Selection from the Most Approved Works of Present Day; and Forming an Elegant Repository for the Flowers of Ancient and Modern Literature..., Volumes 1-3Printed and published for the proprietors by G. Morgan, 1818 - English literature |
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Page 2
... cried I , " you are like Balaam's ass , are you ? You could not speak until you saw the Angel ! " EQUANIMITY . - The celebrated Henderson was seldom known to be in a passion . When at Oxford , he was one day debating with a fellow ...
... cried I , " you are like Balaam's ass , are you ? You could not speak until you saw the Angel ! " EQUANIMITY . - The celebrated Henderson was seldom known to be in a passion . When at Oxford , he was one day debating with a fellow ...
Page 16
... cried , amidst her pain , ' My babes and I shall meet again ! " 66 DREAMS . " Sweet is the dream , divinely sweet , " When absent souls in fancy meet . " I dream'd that at e'en a white mist arose Where the hedge - row brambles twist ; I ...
... cried , amidst her pain , ' My babes and I shall meet again ! " 66 DREAMS . " Sweet is the dream , divinely sweet , " When absent souls in fancy meet . " I dream'd that at e'en a white mist arose Where the hedge - row brambles twist ; I ...
Page 39
... cried one . " Arrah , honey ! you're an Irishman , whoever you are , and have spoke your mind in character . " " Who is your father ? " asked a person who met a young Irishman , seemingly in deep anlictioir " I have no father - I am an ...
... cried one . " Arrah , honey ! you're an Irishman , whoever you are , and have spoke your mind in character . " " Who is your father ? " asked a person who met a young Irishman , seemingly in deep anlictioir " I have no father - I am an ...
Page 44
... ( cried he ) look at this , ' twill amuse you infi- nitely ; you see I'm a bit of an author ; most of them family likenesses . My dear fellow , what would I give for your talents , that I might distinguish and honour the good , and ...
... ( cried he ) look at this , ' twill amuse you infi- nitely ; you see I'm a bit of an author ; most of them family likenesses . My dear fellow , what would I give for your talents , that I might distinguish and honour the good , and ...
Page 45
... cried our son of gunpowder ; " tell me what it is ! Though , before you speak , be certain it is already done . Is it to find the Seal of Solomon ? to catch the Phoenix ? or draw your chariot to church with Unicorns ? What is the ...
... cried our son of gunpowder ; " tell me what it is ! Though , before you speak , be certain it is already done . Is it to find the Seal of Solomon ? to catch the Phoenix ? or draw your chariot to church with Unicorns ? What is the ...
Common terms and phrases
appeared asked Ballymun beauty Black Crows Bon Mots bosom breast breath called charms common scold cried daugh dead dear death delight door earth Epigrams Epitaphs Eumenes ev'ry fair father fear feel fire flower fortune gave Gelert gentleman give grace hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven Henry Jenkins Holywell Street honour hope horse hour husband Irish King lady late light live look Lord Lord Byron Madame Majesty marriage master mind morning ne'er never night o'er once passion person pleasure poor racter replied rose round Santry servant shew sigh smile soon sorrow soul spirit sure sweet tears tell thee thing THOMAS MOORE thou thought TICKLER MAGAZINE told took turn Twas twill Valmont virtue wife woman young youth Zounds
Popular passages
Page 79 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd, Each horseman drew his battle blade, And furious every charger neigh'd, To join the dreadful revelry.
Page 139 - How sweet the answer Echo makes To music at night, When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away, o'er lawns and lakes, Goes answering light. Yet Love hath echoes truer far, And far more sweet, Than e'er beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn or lute, or soft guitar, The songs repeat. 'Tis when the sigh, in youth sincere, And only then, — The sigh that's breath'd for one to hear, Is by that one, that only dear, Breathed back again ! OH BANQUET NOT.
Page 78 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Page 168 - In life can Love be bought with gold ? Are Friendship's pleasures to be sold ? No — all that's worth a wish, a thought, Fair Virtue gives, unbrib'd, unbought. Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind, Let nobler views engage thy mind.
Page 78 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 82 - Away in Beauty's Bloom OH! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread: Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!
Page 47 - Those joyous hours are past away ; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so 'twill be when I am gone ; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells...
Page 78 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on, In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page 38 - Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon When even the bees lag at the summoning brass ; And you, warm little housekeeper, who class With those who think the candles come too soon, Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune Nick the glad silent moments as they pass...
Page 62 - The babe, the sleeping image of his sire. A few short years — and then these sounds shall hail The day again, and gladness fill the vale ; So soon the child a youth, the youth a man, Eager to run the race his fathers ran.