The Midland magazine and monthly review, ed. by J.J. Britton & J.N. Smith. [Continued as] The Midland-metropolitan magazine. Vol.1, no.1 - vol.2 [no.1. Vol.2, no.1 wants all before p.9].
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Page 167 - He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true warfaring Christian.
Page 76 - Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee : Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Page 27 - Look on this spot — a nation's sepulchre ! Abode of gods, whose shrines no longer burn. Even gods must yield — religions take their turn : 'Twas Jove's — 'tis Mahomet's — and other creeds Will rise with other years, till man shall learn Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds; Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on reeds.
Page 66 - You meaner beauties of the night, That poorly satisfy our eyes More by your number than your light ; You common people of the skies ; What are you when the moon shall rise?
Page 76 - And, pr'ythee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to Heaven, is all I dare now call my own.
Page 66 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ; What are you when the rose is blown ? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not design'd Th...
Page 102 - The path of duty was the way to glory: He, that ever following her commands, On with toil of heart and knees and hands, Thro...
Page 181 - Keep not standing fixed and rooted, Briskly venture, briskly roam ; Head and hand, where'er thou foot it, And stout heart are still at home. " In what land the sun does visit, Brisk are we, whate'er betide : To give space for wandering is it That the world was made so wide.