Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 3 (Google eBook)

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W. Blackwood, 1818 - Scotland
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Page 33 - Lo, these are parts of his ways: but how little a portion is heard of him? but the thunder of his power who can understand?
Page 225 - Rome! my country! city of the soul! The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, Lone mother of dead empires! and control In their shut breasts their petty misery. What are our woes and sufferance ? Come and see The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way O'er steps of broken thrones and temples, Ye! Whose agonies are evils of a day— A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.
Page 226 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving - boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Page 299 - Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought, That givest to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion, not in vain By day or star-light thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul; Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, But with high objects, with enduring things — With life and nature, purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying, by such discipline, Both pain...
Page 418 - Some say that gleams of a remoter world Visit the soul in sleep, — that death is slumber, And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber Of those who wake and live.— I look on high ; Has some unknown omnipotence unfurled The veil of life and death...
Page 226 - His steps are not upon thy paths — thy fields Are not a spoil for him — thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Page 418 - Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, Mont Blanc appears, still, snowy, and serene; Its subject mountains their unearthly forms Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps, Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread And wind among the accumulated steeps...
Page 204 - The beings of the mind are not of clay; Essentially immortal, they create And multiply in us a brighter ray « And more beloved existence: that which Fate Prohibits to dull life, in this our state Of mortal bondage, by these spirits supplied, First exiles, then replaces what we hate ; Watering the heart whose early flowers have died, And with a fresher growth replenishing the void.
Page 223 - The moon is up, and yet it is not night — Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains ; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the Day joins the past Eternity ; While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest Floats through the azure air — an island of the blest ! XXVIII.
Page 222 - But ever and anon of griefs subdued There comes a token like a scorpion's sting, Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling...

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