Atheneum, Or, Spirit of the English Magazines

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Munroe and Francis, 1828
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Page 113 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Page 113 - Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes : They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire; Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
Page 113 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 113 - She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face.
Page 191 - Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons' difference : as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Page 277 - And peace went with them, one and all, And each calm pillow spread: But Guilt was my grim Chamberlain That lighted me to bed, And drew my midnight curtains round, With fingers bloody red!
Page 114 - The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long. She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love, and virgin shame; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name.
Page 432 - Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by: With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, — Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue; Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing! At last, Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
Page 277 - One that had never done me wrong, A feeble man and old: I led him to a lonely field; The moon shone clear and cold: Now here, said I, this man shall die, And I will have his gold!
Page 278 - Oh, God ! that horrid, horrid dream Besets me now awake ! Again — again, with dizzy brain, The human life I take ; And my red right hand grows raging hot, Like Cranmer's at the stake. " And still no peace for the restless clay, Will wave or mould allow ; The horrid thing pursues my soul, — It stands before me now ! " The fearful Boy looked up, and saw Huge drops upon his brow.

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