The Dublin University Magazine, Volume 41

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William Curry, Jun., and Company, 1853 - Ireland
 

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Page 184 - tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Page 588 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Page 555 - But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their departure is taken for misery. And their going from us to be utter destruction: but they are in peace.
Page 365 - The Family Shakspeare ; in which nothing is added to the Original Text ; but those words and expressions are omitted which cannot with propriety be read aloud. By T. BOWDLER, Esq. FRS New Edition, in Volumes for the Pocket ; with 36 Wood Engravings, from Designs by Smirke, Howard, and other Artists.
Page 452 - All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.
Page 244 - Here lies old Hobson. Death hath broke his girt, And here, alas! hath laid him in the dirt; Or else, the ways being foul, twenty to one He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter that, if truth were known, Death was half glad when he had got him down; For he had any time this ten years full Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and The Bull.
Page 184 - And (what's aft mair than a' the lave) Your better art o' hidin. Think, when your castigated pulse Gies now and then a wallop, What raging must his veins convulse, That still eternal gallop : Wi' wind and tide fair i' your tail, Right on ye scud your sea-way ; But in the teeth o' baith to sail, It makes an unco leeway.
Page 588 - Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ; But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Page 252 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!
Page 389 - The spirit it is impossible not to admire ; but the old Parisian ferocity has broken out in a shocking manner. It is true, that this may be no more than a sudden explosion ; if so, no indication can be taken from it; but if it should be character, rather than accident, then that people are not fit for liberty, and must have a strong hand, like that of their former masters, to coerce them.

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