The Literary magnet of the belles lettres, science, and the fine arts, ed. by Tobias Merton. Vol.1 - new ser., vol.[2. Vol.2 of the new ser. wants all after p.192].

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Tobias Merton (pseud)
1826
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Page 21 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Page 70 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 70 - Not for this Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur; other gifts Have followed, — for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompense. For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes The still sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue.
Page 163 - Blessed be the name of the Lord from this time forth and for evermore. From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same the Lord's name is to be praised.
Page 70 - The race of life becomes a hopeless flight To those that walk in darkness : on the sea The boldest steer but where their ports invite; But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be. 670 LXXI Is it not better, then, to be alone, And love Earth only for its earthly sake...
Page 71 - Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And...
Page 22 - She was a woman of a steady mind, Tender and deep in her excess of love ; . Not speaking much, pleased rather with the joy Of her own thoughts : by some especial care Her temper had been framed, as if to make A being who, by adding love to peace, Might live on earth a life of happiness.
Page 70 - I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities...
Page 96 - Oh that I had the wings of a dove, that I might flee away and be at rest;" for I felt that there could be no rest for me in the midst of such outrages and pollutions.
Page 73 - But thou, that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation : Meek loveliness is round thee spread, A softness still and holy ; The grace of forest charms decayed, And pastoral melancholy.

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