Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 60 (Google eBook)

Front Cover
W. Blackwood, 1846
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Page 380 - O ! mickle is the powerful grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities : For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give...
Page 330 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek : Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Page 378 - We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine ; But we've wandered mony a weary foot, Sin auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, Frae mornin' sun till dine ; But seas between us braid hae roar'd, Sin auld lang syne.
Page 177 - Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites, When to repress, and when indulge our flights : High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd, And pointed out those arduous paths they trod ; Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize, And urged the rest by equal steps to rise.
Page 474 - THE breaking waves dash'd high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches toss'd ; And the heavy night hung dark, The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moor'd their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 407 - ... in hunting about the grass and stones at the edge of the loch ; presently another, and another, appeared in a little grassy glade which ran...
Page 82 - Then welcome business, welcome strife, Welcome the cares, the thorns, of life, The visage wan, the pore-blind sight, The toil by day, the lamp at night, The tedious forms, the solemn prate, The pert dispute, the dull debate, The drowsy bench, the babbling hall, For thee, fair Justice, welcome all...
Page 591 - To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line? No! when the sons of song descend to trade, Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade. Let such forego the poet's sacred name, Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame: Still for stern mammon may they toil in vain!
Page 120 - the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of his enemies.
Page 488 - Unless you can think, when the song is done, No other is soft in the rhythm ; Unless you can feel, when left by one, That all men else go with him; Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath, That your beauty itself wants proving; Unless you can swear, "For life, for death ! " Oh fear to call it loving ! v.

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