The Utah Magazine: The Home of the People Devoted to Literature, Art, Science and Education, Volume 3 (Google eBook)

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E. L. T. Harrison, W. S. Godby
Harrison & Godbe., 1869
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Page 103 - And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Page 187 - I am Thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature...
Page 10 - Put up again thy sword into his place; for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.
Page 104 - If a man were called to fix the period in the history of the world during which the condition of the human race was most happy and prosperous, he would, without hesitation, name that which elapsed from the death of Domitian to the accession of Commodus.
Page 153 - God, a night spent in arms, is of more avail than two months of fasting and prayer; whosoever falls in battle, his sins are forgiven; at the day of judgment his wounds shall be resplendent as vermilion, and odoriferous as musk; and the loss of his limbs shall be supplied by the wings of angels and cherubim.
Page 203 - ... it came even to pass, as the trumpeters and singers were as one, to make one sound to be heard in praising and thanking the Lord : and when they lifted up their voice with the trumpets and cymbals and instruments of music, and praised the Lord, saying, For he is good ; for his mercy endureth for ever...
Page 203 - And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause, and lightly tread, Fond wretch ! as if her step disturb'd the dead...
Page 103 - Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame ? I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.
Page 163 - ... True, sir. True. Precisely as it happened, so I tell it you." I could think of nothing to say, to any purpose, and my mouth was very dry. The wind and the wires took up the story with a long lamenting wail. He resumed. "Now, sir, mark this, and judge how my mind is troubled. The spectre came back a week ago. Ever since, it has been there, now and again, by fits and starts.
Page 161 - I found the way long enough to give me time to recall a singular air of reluctance or compulsion with which he had pointed out the path. When I came down low enough upon the zigzag descent to see him again, I saw that he was standing between the rails on the way by which the train had lately passed, in an attitude as if he were waiting for me to appear. He ,had his left hand at his chin, and that left elbow rested on his right hand crossed over his breast.

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