Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 2

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William Blackwood, 1818 - England
 

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Page 69 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
Page 505 - O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown: The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword, The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observ'd of all observers, quite, quite down.
Page 197 - It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
Page 11 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded Vessel goes : Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm : Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Page 262 - I walk abroad o' nights, And kill sick people groaning under walls; Sometimes I go about and poison wells; And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves, I am content to lose some of my crowns, That I may, walking in my gallery, See 'em go pinioned along by my door.
Page 431 - That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster...
Page 29 - And there in mire and puddle have I stood This ten days' space; and, lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum. They give me bread and water, being a king; So that, for want of sleep, and sustenance, My mind's distempered, and my body's numbed, And whether I have limbs or no I know not.
Page 27 - To plain me to the gods against them both. But when I call to mind I am a king Methinks I should revenge me of the wrongs That Mortimer and Isabel have done. But what are kings when regiment is gone But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
Page 12 - Power" ire., to cry the state of the political atmosphere, and so forth, I set off on a tour to the North, from Bristol to Sheffield, for the purpose of procuring customers, preaching by the way in most of the great towns, as an hireless volunteer, in a blue coat and white waistcoat, that not a rag of the woman of Babylon might be seen on me.
Page 28 - Not so, my liege, the queen hath given this charge To keep your grace in safety; Your passions make your dolours to increase. K. Edw. This usage makes my misery to increase. But can my air of life continue long When all my senses are annoyed with stench ? Within a dungeon England's king is kept, Where I am starved for want of sustenance.

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