Fraser's Magazine for Town and Country, Volum 68

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James Fraser, 1863

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Side 289 - Just this Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, Or there exceed the mark...
Side 327 - Rome ! my country ! city of the soul ! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires ! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, ye Whose agonies are evils of a day ! — A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Side 263 - For the king of Babylon stood at the parting of the way, at the head of the two ways, to use divination: he made his arrows bright, he consulted with images, he looked in the liver.
Side 219 - Party is a body of men united, for promoting by their joint endeavours the national interest, upon some particular principle...
Side 448 - The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Side 327 - The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye! Whose agonies are evils of a day— A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay. The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe; An empty urn within her wither'd hands, Whose holy dust was scatter'd...
Side 219 - It is the business of the speculative philosopher to mark the proper ends of government. It is the business of the politician, who is the philosopher in action, to find out proper means towards those ends, and to employ them with effect.
Side 284 - It was the English,' Kaspar cried, 'Who put the French to rout; But what they fought each other for I could not well make out.
Side 60 - Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar ? Not one now, to mock your own grinning?
Side 87 - ... self-collecting power is such, He shrinks into his house, with much Displeasure. Where'er he dwells, he dwells alone, Except himself has chattels none, Well satisfied to be his own Whole treasure. Thus, hermitlike, his life he leads, Nor partner of his banquet needs, And if he meets one, only feeds The faster. Who seeks him must be worse than blind, (He and his house are so combined) If, finding it, he fails to find Its master.

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