Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 10 |
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Pagina
I am sure , like one waked from a dream , you look back To the days when you
hoisted your flag of attack ; When against THE OLD FORTRESS you opend your
trenches , With a jig , as the mode of your masters the French is ; While one ...
I am sure , like one waked from a dream , you look back To the days when you
hoisted your flag of attack ; When against THE OLD FORTRESS you opend your
trenches , With a jig , as the mode of your masters the French is ; While one ...
Pagina 1
I am sure , like one waked from a dream , you look back To the days when you
hoisted your flag of attack ; When against THE OLD FORTRESS you opend your
trenches , With a jig , as the mode of your masters the French is ; While one ...
I am sure , like one waked from a dream , you look back To the days when you
hoisted your flag of attack ; When against THE OLD FORTRESS you opend your
trenches , With a jig , as the mode of your masters the French is ; While one ...
Pagina 447
But don't attempt the folks to diddle , The roads were cramm'd from south to A fib I'
ve nought to say to . north Where's the use of telling stories , As full as they could
be , sure . When you're to sing of so great glorics , 6 . As foreigners , both ...
But don't attempt the folks to diddle , The roads were cramm'd from south to A fib I'
ve nought to say to . north Where's the use of telling stories , As full as they could
be , sure . When you're to sing of so great glorics , 6 . As foreigners , both ...
Pagina 453
I domst greatest pleasure , was the collection of am sure the ingenious writers will
their different epitaphs and celebrated bounce with joy , when from the sisayings ,
and the concentrating in one lent tomb they hear your mellow voice ...
I domst greatest pleasure , was the collection of am sure the ingenious writers will
their different epitaphs and celebrated bounce with joy , when from the sisayings ,
and the concentrating in one lent tomb they hear your mellow voice ...
Pagina 636
sure my which you have often heard me re- exorbitantly dear . “ Ay , but , "
obmark , ( and I am sure the tracts I have served the prudent mother , “ you given
you inculcate the same lesson , ) were in such a hurry , or you might that a strict ...
sure my which you have often heard me re- exorbitantly dear . “ Ay , but , "
obmark , ( and I am sure the tracts I have served the prudent mother , “ you given
you inculcate the same lesson , ) were in such a hurry , or you might that a strict ...
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Populaire passages
Pagina 357 - Ye men of Israel, hear these words : Jesus of Nazareth, a man approved of God among you by miracles and wonders and signs, which God did by him in the midst of you, as ye yourselves also know: Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain...
Pagina 98 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Pagina 286 - But to my mind, — though I am native here, And to the manner born, — it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
Pagina 98 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations ; — all were his ! _ . He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set, where were they?
Pagina 294 - A fiery soul, which working out its way, Fretted the pigmy body to decay, And o'er-informed the tenement of clay. A daring pilot in extremity, Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high, He sought the storms ; but for a calm unfit, Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Pagina 98 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave, — Think ye he meant them for a slave?
Pagina 98 - And where are they ? And where art thou ? My Country ! On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more. And must thy lyre, so long divine...
Pagina 98 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Pagina 99 - tis the hour of prayer ! Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of love ! Ave Maria ! may our spirits dare Look up to thine and to thy Son's above ! Ave Maria ! oh, that face so fair ! Those downcast eyes beneath the Almighty dove — What though 'tis but a pictured image ? — strike — That painting is no idol, — 'tis too like.
Pagina 430 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud, Without our special wonder...