Blackwood's Lady's Magazine and Gazette of the Fashionable World, Or, St. James's Court-register of Belles Lettres, Fine Arts, Music, Drama, Fashions, &c, Volumes 28 à 29

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A.H. Blackwood, G. Simpkin, and J. Page, 1850

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Page 58 - Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ?" " Not there, not there, my child...
Page 58 - Is it far away in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold, Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand, Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ? Not there, not there, my child.
Page 73 - A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 12 - Ordered by an intelligence so wise, As might confound the Atheist's sophistries. Below a circling fence its leaves are seen, Wrinkled and keen ; No grazing cattle through their prickly round Can reach to wound ; But as they grow where nothing is to fear, Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.
Page 84 - Monday 12 Tuesday 13 Wednesday 14 Thursday 15 Friday 16 Saturday 17 Sunday 18 Monday 19 Tuesday 20 Wednesday 21 Thursday 22 Friday 23 Saturday 24 Sunday 25 Monday 26 Tuesday 27 Wednesday...
Page 70 - He has furnished you with such powers of body and mind, as give you dominion over the fishes of the sea, the fowls of the air, and the beasts of the field. He has invited you to hold communion with him, and to exalt your own nature, by the love and imitation of his divine perfections.
Page 58 - Thou call'st its children a happy band ; Mother! oh, where is that radiant shore? Shall we not seek it, and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs ?" — " Not there, not there, my child...
Page 207 - THE Spirit of Beauty unfurls her light, And wheels her course in a joyous flight ; I know her track through the balmy air, By the blossoms that cluster and whiten there ; She leaves the tops of the mountains green, And gems the valley with crystal sheen. At morn I know where she rested at night, For the roses are gushing with dewy delight ; Then she mounts again, and...
Page 12 - And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.

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