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Eclectic Magazine: Foreign Literature, Volum 59;Volum 122
John Holmes Agnew,Walter Hilliard Bidwell
Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1894
The Eclectic Magazine: Foreign Literature, Volum 39
John Holmes Agnew,Walter Hilliard Bidwell
Uten tilgangsbegrensning - 1856
admiration amongst animal magnetism appear army beautiful Buffon Bunyan Caesar called Carnot character church color death doubt Duke emperor England English eyes father feeling French Gabrielle genius give Glasgow Goethe hand Hartley Hartley Coleridge heard heart honor hope Horace Walpole human Hungary interest Joanna Baillie Josephine king labor lady less letter light literary living London look Lord Lord Byron Lord Carlisle Madagascar manner matter ment mind moral Napoleon nature never noble once passed passion perhaps person philosophy Plasencia poem poet poetry poor Pope present Radama readers remarkable Robert Southey scarcely Scotland seems Sir Walter Scott soul Southey speak spirit Spitalfields style thing thou thought tion took Transylvania truth verse whole words Wordsworth write young Yuste
Side 204 - Then the Master, With a gesture of command, Waved his hand; And at the word, Loud and sudden there was heard, All around them and below, The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see! she stirs! She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel The thrill of life along her keel, And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound, She leaps into the ocean's arms!
Side 334 - The Blessing of my later years Was with me when a boy : She gave me eyes, she gave me ears ; And humble cares, and delicate fears ; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ; And love, and thought, and joy.
Side 451 - Armour rusting in his Halls On the blood of Clifford calls ; — " Quell the Scot," exclaims the Lance — Bear me to the heart of France, Is the longing of the Shield — Tell thy name, thou trembling Field ; Field of death, where'er thou be, Groan thou with our victory ! Happy day, and mighty hour, When our Shepherd, in his power, Mailed and horsed, with lance and sword, To his Ancestors restored, Like a re-appearing Star, Like a glory from afar, First shall head the Flock of War...
Side 434 - For so have I seen a lark rising from his bed of grass, and soaring upwards, singing as he rises, and hopes to get to heaven, and climb above the clouds ; but the poor bird was beaten back with the loud sighings of an eastern wind, and his motion made irregular and inconstant, descending more at every breath of the tempest than it could recover by the...
Side 204 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...
Side 355 - I falter where I firmly trod, And falling with my weight of cares Upon the great world's altar-stairs That slope through darkness up to God, I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, And gather dust and chaff, and call To what I feel is Lord of all, And faintly trust the larger hope.
Side 324 - Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell ? " At this I was put to an exceeding maze ; wherefore leaving my cat upon the ground I looked up to heaven, and was, as if I had, with the eyes of my understanding, seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me...
Side 336 - A SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage girl : She was eight years old she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad ; Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid ! How many...
Side 206 - Forever — never! Never — forever!" There groups of merry children played, There youths and maidens dreaming strayed; O precious hours! O golden prime, And affluence of love and time! Even as a miser counts his gold, Those hours the ancient timepiece told, — "Forever — never! Never — forever!