The Border Magazine: An Illustrated Monthly, Том 8

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Nicholas Dickson, William Sanderson
Carter & Pratt, 1903
 

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Страница 177 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled And still where many a garden flower grows wild, There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The Village Preacher's modest mansion rose! A man he was, to all the country dear, And passing rich with Forty Pounds a year ! Remote from towns, he ran his godly race ; Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place ! Unpractised he, to fawn; or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour!
Страница 33 - In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets...
Страница 85 - Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? — Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, He passeth from life to his rest in the grave. "The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around, and together be laid ; And the young and the old, and the low and the high. Shall moulder to dust, and together shall lie.
Страница 85 - The saint who enjoyed the communion of heaven, The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven, The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. So the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed That wither away to let others succeed; So the multitude comes, even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told.
Страница 85 - They loved, but the story we cannot unfold; They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold; They grieved, but no wail from their slumber will come; They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
Страница 85 - So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed That withers away to let others succeed; So the multitude comes, even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told. For we are the same our fathers have been ; We see the same sights our fathers have seen, — We drink the same stream and view the same sun, And run the same course our fathers have run.
Страница 85 - tis the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death ; From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud : — Oh ! why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? Oh ! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Страница 5 - The laws of friendship are austere and eternal, of one web with the laws of nature and of morals. But we have aimed at a swift and petty benefit, to suck a sudden sweetness. We snatch at the slowest fruit in the whole garden of God, which many summers and many winters must ripen.
Страница 32 - I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.
Страница 128 - Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, Hills of home! and to hear again the call; Hear about the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying, And hear no more at all.

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