Macmillan's Magazine, Volumen13

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Macmillan and Company, 1866
 

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Página 208 - Still roll ; where all the aspects of misery Predominate; whose strong effects are such As he must bear, being powerless to redress; And that unless above himself he can Erect himself, how poor a thing is man...
Página 61 - A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, And, as it were one voice, an agony Of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills All night in a waste land, where no one comes, Or hath come, since the making of the world. Then murmur'd Arthur, " Place me in the barge,
Página 452 - Yes, thou art gone ! and round me too the night In ever-nearing circle weaves her shade. I see her veil draw soft across the day, I feel her slowly chilling breath invade The cheek grown thin, the brown hair sprent with...
Página 452 - O Thyrsis, still our tree is there ! — Ah, vain ! These English fields, this upland dim, These brambles pale with mist engarlanded, That lone, sky-pointing tree, are not for him ; To a boon southern country he is fled, And now in happier air, Wandering with the great Mother's train divine (And purer or more subtle soul than thee, I trow, the mighty Mother doth not see) Within a folding of the Apennine...
Página 166 - This greatest of civil wars was not gradually developed by popular commotion, tumultuous assemblies, or local unorganized insurrections. However long may have been its previous conception, it nevertheless sprung forth suddenly from the parent brain, a Minerva in the full panoply of war. The President was bound to meet it in the shape it presented itself, without waiting for Congress to baptize it with a name ; and no name given to it by him or them could change the fact.
Página 453 - What though the music of thy rustic flute Kept not for long its happy, country tone, Lost it too soon, and learnt a stormy note, Of men contention-tost...
Página 201 - Beautiful ! my Country ! ours once more ! Smoothing thy gold of war-dishevelled hair O'er such sweet brows as never other Wore, And letting thy set lips, Freed from wrath's pale eclipse, The rosy edges of their smile lay bare, What words divine of lover or of poet Could tell our love and make thee know it, Among the Nations bright beyond compare ? What were our lives without thee ? What all our lives to save thee ? We reck not what we gave thee ; We will not dare to doubt thee, But ask whatever else,...
Página 232 - CONSIDER. Consider The lilies of the field whose bloom is brief: — We are as they; Like them we fade away, As doth a leaf. Consider The sparrows of the air of small account: Our God doth view Whether they fall or mount, — He guards us too. Consider The lilies that do neither spin nor toil, Yet are most fair: — What profits all this care And all this coil?
Página 357 - ... the organ be ever useful to an animal under changing conditions of life, then the difficulty of believing that a perfect and complex eye could be formed by natural selection, though insuperable by our imagination, can hardly be considered real.
Página 453 - Here cam'st thou in thy jocund youthful time, Here was thine height of strength, thy golden prime ! And still the haunt beloved a virtue yields.

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