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 201 - O 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...
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 - 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 450 - He hearkens not ! light comer, he is flown ! What matters it? next year he will return, And we shall have him in the sweet spring-days, With whitening hedges, and uncrumpling fern, And blue-bells trembling by the forest-ways, And scent of hay new-mown.
Página 450 - It irk'd him to be here, he could not rest. He loved each simple joy the country yields, He loved his mates; but yet he could not keep, For that a shadow lour'd on the fields, Here with the shepherds and the silly sheep.
Página 237 - If ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?
Página 450 - Too rare, too rare, grow now my visits here, But once I knew each field, each flower, each stick; And with the country-folk acquaintance made By barn in threshing-time, by new-built rick.
Página 453 - Sings his Sicilian fold, His sheep, his hapless love, his blinded eyes — And how a call celestial round him rang, And heavenward from the fountain-brink he sprang, And all the marvel of the golden skies.

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