Tinsley's magazine, conducted by E. Yates, Том 11

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Edmund Hodgson Yates
 

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Страница 20 - And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part : But evil is wrought by want of Thought, As well as want of Heart...
Страница 192 - Yet should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat, Till captive Science yields her last retreat; Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray, And pour on misty Doubt resistless day; Should no false Kindness lure to loose delight, Nor Praise relax...
Страница 284 - Grand Chorus As from the power of sacred lays The spheres began to move, And sung the great Creator's praise To all the blest above; So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky.
Страница 596 - He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all.
Страница 407 - It is to spend long days And not once feel that we were ever young; It is to add, immured In the hot prison of the present, month To month with weary pain. It is to suffer this, And feel but half, and feebly, what we feel.
Страница 409 - It is the pensive autumn feeling — it is the sensation of half sadness that we experience when the longest day of the year is past, and every day that follows is shorter, and the...
Страница 375 - Stephen took a cup of coffee, left the house of his love, and turned into the lane. It was so early that the shaded places still smelt like night time, and the sunny spots had hardly felt the sun. The horizontal rays made every shallow dip in the ground to show as a well-marked hollow. Even the channel of the path was enough to throw shade, and the very stones of the road cast tapering dashes of darkness westward, as long as Jael's tent-nail. At a spot not more than a hundred yards from the vicar's...
Страница 409 - When we were children we thought as children. But now there lies before us manhood, with its earnest work : and then old age, and then the grave, and then home.
Страница 124 - These eyes were blue; blue as autumn distance — blue as the blue we see between the retreating mouldings of hills and woody slopes on a sunny September morning. A misty and shady blue, that had no beginning or surface, and was looked INTO rather than AT.
Страница 282 - See the conquering hero comes, Sound the trumpets, beat the drums ; Sports prepare, the laurel bring, Songs of triumph to him sing.

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