Rookwood [by W.H. Ainsworth]. Revised. By W.H. Ainsworth

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第 150 頁 - have a snap at you, at all hazards," cried Coates, springing suddenly towards him. " And I at you," said Turpin, discharging his pistol right in the face of the rash attorney — " there's a quittance in full." BOOK III. THE GIPSY. Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear, From my hour
第 350 頁 - CAWOOD FERRY. The sight renewed my courser's feet, A moment, staggering feebly fleet, A moment, with a faint low neigh, He answered, and then fell. With gasps and glazing eyes he lay, And reeking limbs immoveable,— His first, and last career
第 324 頁 - Dauphin. I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! He bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs;
第 324 頁 - the earth sings when he touches it: the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
第 233 頁 - Well, go thy ways, old Nick Machiavel, there will never be the peer of thee for wholesome policy and good counsel: thou took'st pains to chalk men out the dark paths and hidden plots of murther and deceit, and no man has the grace to follow
第 117 頁 - that a stone with a hole in it hung at the bed's head will prevent the Night-Mare ; and is therefore called a hag-stone " The belief in this charm still lingers in some districts, and maintains, like the
第 323 頁 - on right and left, how fast, Each forest, grove, and bower; On right and left, fled past, how fast, Each city, town, and tower. CHAPTER XXXIX. BLACK
第 324 頁 - cheval volant, the Pegasus qui a les narines defeu ! When I bestride him I soar. I am a hawk : the earth sings when he touches it: the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
第 305 頁 - prompt to charge or caress, Now is she not beautiful ? — bonny Black Bess ! V. Over highway and byeway, in rough and smooth weather, Some thousands of miles have we journeyed together; Our couch the same straw, and our meal the same mess, No couple more constant than I and Black Bess!
第 84 頁 - husband Now he owes nature nothing. Man. And look upon this creature as his wife. Is dead. Vit. Cor. Oh, he's a happy husband ! She comes not like a widow — she comes armed With scorn and impudence. Is this a mourning habit