The Analectic Magazine...: Comprising Original Reviews, Biography, Analytical Abstracts of New Publications, Volume 6

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Published and sold by Moses Thomas, 1815
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Page 128 - That very law* which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from its source, That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course.
Page 279 - Sound needed none, Nor any voice of joy ; his spirit drank The spectacle : sensation, soul, and form All melted into him ; they swallowed up His animal being; in them did he live, And by them did he live; they were his life.
Page 100 - The various articles of the Romish creed disappeared like a dream; and after a full conviction, on Christmas Day 1754, I received the sacrament in the church of Lausanne. It was here that I suspended my religious inquiries, acquiescing with implicit belief in the tenets and mysteries which are adopted by the general consent of Catholics and Protestants.
Page 110 - He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
Page 291 - O'er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold, In Judah deem'd divine — Jehovah's vessels hold The godless heathen's wine. In that same hour and hall, The fingers of a hand Came forth against the wall, And wrote as if on sand : The fingers of a man ; — A solitary hand Along the letters ran, And traced them like a wand.
Page 49 - That landscape ; and of pure, now purer air Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair : now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils.
Page 279 - Such was the Boy — but for the growing Youth What soul was his, when, from the naked top Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun Rise up, and bathe the world in light...
Page 149 - See the wretch, that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe, and walk again: The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening Paradise.
Page 290 - And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And the mountains behold me no more: If the hand that I love lay me low, There cannot be pain in the blow!
Page 281 - I passed, did to my heart convey So still an image of tranquillity, So calm and still, and looked so beautiful Amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind, That what we feel of sorrow and despair From ruin and from change, and all the grief The passing shews of Being leave behind, Appeared an idle dream, that could not live Where meditation was. I turned away And walked along my road in happiness.

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