The Quarterly Review

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William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle)
John Murray, 1861 - English literature
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Page 445 - Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot...
Page 327 - He is made one with Nature. There is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder to the song of night's sweet bird. He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone ; Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own, Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
Page 328 - The One remains, the many change and pass ; Heaven's light for ever shines, Earth's shadows fly ; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments.
Page 22 - Then came sudden alarms: hurryings to and fro: trepidations of innumerable fugitives, I knew not whether from the good cause or the bad: darkness and lights: tempest and human faces: and at last, with the sense that all was lost, female forms, and the features that were worth all the world to me, and but a moment allowed, — and clasped hands, and heart-breaking partings, and then — everlasting farewells!
Page 258 - Either some Caesar or Napoleon will seize the reins of government with a strong hand, or your republic will be as fearfully plundered and laid waste by barbarians in the twentieth century as the Roman Empire was in the fifth, with this difference, that the Huns and Vandals who ravaged the Roman Empire came from without, and that your Huns and Vandals will have been engendered within your own country by your own institutions.
Page 327 - He is made one with Nature : there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own; Which wields the world with never wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above. He is a portion of the loveliness Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear His part, while the...
Page 22 - I had the power, if I could raise myself, to will it; and yet again had not the power, for the weight of twenty Atlantics was upon me, or the oppression of inexpiable guilt. 'Deeper than ever plummet sounded,
Page 465 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Page 327 - Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep ! He hath awakened from the dream of life. Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.
Page 459 - And if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free...

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