Burton's Gentleman's Magazine and American Monthly Review, Volumes 6-7

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William Evans Burton, Edgar Allan Poe
C. Alexander, 1840
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My ex-husband and I had always managed to stay friendly after our divorce in February 2017. But I always wanted to get back together with him, All it took was a visit to this spell casters website last December, because my dream was to start a new year with my husband, and live happily with him.. This spell caster requested a specific love spell for me and my husband, and I accepted it. And this powerful spell caster began to work his magic. And 48 hours after this spell caster worked for me, my husband called me back for us to be together again, and he was remorseful for all his wrong deeds. My spell is working because guess what: My “husband” is back and we are making preparations on how to go to court and withdraw our divorce papers ASAP. This is nothing short of a miracle. Thank you Dr Emu for your powerful spells. Words are not enough.
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Page 48 - Go, LOVELY rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee! — How...
Page 101 - I HEARD the trailing garments of the Night Sweep through her marble halls ! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls ! I felt her presence by its spell of might, Stoop o'er me from above ; The calm, majestic presence of the Night, As of the one I love.
Page 75 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on : 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the " Nervii: Look, in this place ran Cassius...
Page 103 - The cricket chirps : the light burns low : -'Tis nearly twelve o'clock. Shake hands, before you die. Old year, we'll dearly rue for you : What is it we can do for you ? Speak out before you die. His face is growing sharp and thin. Alack ! our friend is gone. Close up his eyes : tie up his chin : Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone, And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And a new face at the door, my friend, A new face at the door.
Page 103 - Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow, And tread softly, and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year, you must not die, You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year, you shall not die.
Page 103 - em away Old year, you must not go ; So long as you have been with us, Such joy as you have seen with us, Old year, you shall not go He frothed his bumpers to the brim ; A jollier year we shall not see.
Page 108 - I LOVED thee long and dearly, Florence vane; My life's bright dream and early Hath come again; I renew, in my fond vision. My heart's dear pain — My hopes, and thy derision, Florence Vane. The ruin, lone and hoary, The ruin old Where thou didst hark my story, At even told — That spot — the hues Elysian Of sky and plain — I treasure in my vision, Florence Vane. Thou wast lovelier than the roses In their prime; Thy voice excelled the closes Of sweetest rhyme; Thy heart was as a river Without...
Page 233 - ... the defenceless ; warding off from them the peltings of the storm, or the scorching rays of arbitrary power. He who is this, is an ornament and a blessing to his native land. He who is otherwise, abuses his eminent advantages; abuses the grandeur and prosperity which he has drawn from the bosom of his country. Should tempests arise, and he be laid prostrate by the storm, who would mourn over his fall? Should he be borne down by the oppressive hand of power, who would murmur at his fate?—
Page 42 - Or who shut up the sea with doors, when it brake forth, as if it had issued out of the womb?
Page 9 - ... his curled brows Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows, While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat, The common fate of all that's high or great. Low at his foot a spacious plain is...

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