Catalogue, Descriptive and Historical: Of the National Gallery of Scotland, Under the Management of the Board of Manufactures (Google eBook)

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Murray and Gibb, 1870 - Painters - 136 pages
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Page 45 - And he said unto her, What wilt thou? she saith unto him, Grant that these my two sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other on the left, in thy kingdom.
Page 129 - Look once more, ere we leave this specular mount, Westward : much nearer by south-west, behold Where on the ^Egean shore a city stands, Built nobly, pure the air and light the soil, Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence, native to famous wits Or hospitable, in her sweet recess, City or suburban, studious walks and shades.
Page 129 - SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, ^ Along Morea's hills the setting sun ; Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light ! O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
Page 130 - The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea. And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free, For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
Page 83 - And the angel of the Lord found her by a fountain of water in the wilderness, by the fountain in the way to Shur. 8 And he said, Hagar, Sarai's maid, whence earnest thou? and whither wilt thou go? And she said, I flee from the face of my mistress Sarai.
Page 39 - Rubens was, perhaps, the greatest master in the mechanical part of the art, the best workman with his tools, that ever exercised a pencil.
Page 95 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made, When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou ! Scarce were the piteous accents said, When, with the Baron's casque, the maid To the nigh streamlet ran.
Page 72 - mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, "When upward-springing, blythe, to greet, The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield ; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field Unseen, alane.
Page 83 - And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, and said ; Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Page 30 - A two-fold influence only to be felt A light, a darkness, mingling each with each ; Both and yet neither. There, from age to age, Two ghosts are sitting on their sepulchres. That is the Duke Lorenzo. Mark him well. He meditates, his head upon his hand. What from beneath his helm-like bonnet scowls ? Is it a face, or but an eyeless skull ? 'Tis lost in shade ; yet, like the basilisk, It fascinates, and is intolerable.

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