Monthly Review; Or New Literary Journal, Volume 17

Front Cover
Ralph Griffiths, George Edward Griffiths
R. Griffiths., 1757 - Bibliography
Editors: May 1749-Sept. 1803, Ralph Griffiths; Oct. 1803-Apr. 1825, G. E. Griffiths.
 

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Page 464 - And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city.
Page 265 - This pencil take (she said) whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of Joy ; Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic Tears.
Page 479 - Queen any person of distinction that came to wait on her : it was Sunday, when there is usually the greatest attendance of Nobility. In the same Hall were the Archbishop of Canterbury...
Page 481 - At the end of all this ceremonial, a number of unmarried ladies appeared, who, with particular solemnity, lifted the meat off the table, and conveyed it into the Queen's inner and more private chamber, where, after she had chosen for herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the Court.
Page 266 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep : they do not sleep ! On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit; they linger yet Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Page 266 - The following Ode is founded on a tradition current in Wales, that Edward the First, when he completed the conquest of that country, ordered all the bards that fell into his hands to be put to death.
Page 266 - Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 465 - Why he would have it put off, for that day would quickly have determined it?' He answered, 'There would not have been time enough, for sure it would take some debate.
Page 265 - Where each old poetic mountain Inspiration breathed around ; Every shade and hallow'd fountain Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.
Page 482 - London; beheading with them is less infamous than hanging; they give the wall as the place of honour; hawking is the general sport of the gentry; they are more polite in eating than the French, devouring less bread, but more meat, which they roast in perfection; they put a...

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