The Eclectic Magazine: Foreign Literature, Volume 12

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John Holmes Agnew, Walter Hilliard Bidwell
Leavitt, Trow & Company, 1847
 

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Page 438 - Two Voices are there ; one is of the Sea, One of the Mountains ; each a mighty Voice : In both from age to age Thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen Music, Liberty...
Page 443 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Page 17 - See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again ; The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Page 19 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Page 203 - In the evening I went very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate street, where one was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle to the Romans. About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the change which God works in the heart through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed.
Page 247 - Eternal Hope ! when yonder spheres sublime Pealed their first notes to sound the march of Time, Thy joyous youth began — but not to fade. — When all the sister planets have decayed ; When wrapt in fire the realms of ether glow, And Heaven's last thunder shakes the world below ; Thou, undismayed shalt o'er the ruins smile, And light thy torch at Nature's funeral pile ! EOT) OF PABT SECOND.
Page 160 - Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright: at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Page 444 - Of these the false Achitophel was first; A name to all succeeding ages curst: For close designs and crooked councils fit; Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit; Restless, unfixed in principles and place; In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace: A fiery soul, which, working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay.
Page 432 - And when I die, be sure you let me know Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Why did I write ? what sin to me unknown Dipt me in ink, my parents...
Page 124 - 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?

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