The Quarterly Review, Volume 54

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John Murray, 1835
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Page 48 - That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of lona.
Page 292 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war: These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Page 336 - Loyalty is still the same, Whether it win or lose the game ; True as the dial to the sun, Although. it be not shined upon.
Page 62 - ... was there no pleasure in being a poor man? or can those neat black clothes which you wear now, and are so careful to keep brushed, since we have become rich and finical, give you half the honest vanity with which you flaunted it about in that overworn...
Page 336 - And glories of my King. When I shall voyce aloud, how good He is, how great should be, Inlarged winds, that curie the flood, Know no such liberty.
Page 180 - To carry on the feelings of childhood into the powers of manhood ; to combine the child's sense of wonder and novelty with the appearances, which every day for perhaps forty years had rendered familiar; With sun and moon and stars throughout the year, And man and woman ; this is the character and privilege of genius, and one of the marks which distinguish genius from talents.
Page 68 - Twas but in a sort I blamed thee : None e'er prosper'd who defamed thee; Irony all, and feign'd abuse, Such as perplex'd lovers use, At a need, when, in despair To paint forth their fairest fair, Or in part but to express That exceeding comeliness Which their fancies doth so strike, They borrow language of dislike; And, instead of Dearest Miss.
Page 180 - Bound to thy service with unceasing care, The mind's least generous wish a mendicant For nought but what thy happiness could spare. Speak — though this soft warm heart, once free to hold A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, Be left more desolate, more dreary cold Than a forsaken bird's-nest filled with snow 'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine — Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know ! TO BR HAYDON, ON SEEING HIS PICTURE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE ON THE ISLAND OF ST.
Page 59 - And you, my midnight darlings, my Folios; must I part with the intense delight of having you (huge armfuls) in my embraces? Must knowledge come to me. if it come at all. by some awkward experiment of intuition, and no longer by this familiar process of reading ? Shall I enjoy friendships there, wanting the smiling indications which point me to them here, — the recognisable face — the "sweet assurance of a look"?
Page 47 - Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.

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