Campbell; or, The Scottish probationer, a novel [by A. Balfour].

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1819
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Page 158 - Tis education forms the common mind ; Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined.
Page 126 - I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation ; nor the musician's which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, which is politic ; nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these : but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
Page 200 - There is a tide in the affairs of men, That, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
Page 176 - Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance, that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings...
Page 202 - The bridegroom may forget the bride Was made his wedded wife yestreen ; The monarch may forget the crown ' That on his head an hour has been ; The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee ; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn, And a' that thou hast done for me ! " LINES, SENT TO SIR JOHN WHITEFORD, OF WHITEFORD, BART.
Page 176 - I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.
Page 249 - Fame's proud temple shinci afar; Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war...
Page 133 - Ullin, Fingal's bard, was there ; the sweet voice of the hill of Cona. He praised the daughter of snow, and Morven's" high-descended chief. The daughter of snow overheard, and left the hall of her secret sigh. She came in all her beauty, like the moon from the cloud of the east. Loveliness was around her as light. Her steps were like the music of songs.
Page 50 - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old ; His wither'd cheek, and tresses grey, Seem'd to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry ; For, well-a-day ! their date was fled, His tuneful brethren all were dead ; And he, neglected and oppress'd...
Page 24 - But happy they, the happiest of their kind, Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, That binds their peace ; but harmony itself, Attuning all their passions into love . Where friendship...

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