The North British review1862 |
Otras ediciones - Ver todo
Términos y frases comunes
admiration ancient antichrist appear army Austria beauty believe Ben Lawers Borneo British called century character Christ Christian Church critical Dayaks divine doctrine doubt Dr Hook Duke of Orleans Edward Irving Emperor empire England English Essays Euphrates Europe expression fact faith favour feeling force France French genius Goldwin Smith Government heart honour human Hungarians India influence interest Irving King labour land less literary living London Lord Macaulay Lord Stanhope Mary of Guise matter ment mind Minister moral mountains nation native nature never noble opinion Oude passion peculiar Philip Van Artevelde Pitt Pitt's poems poet poetry political possessed present principle prophecy prophetic question race readers regard religious Sarawak Scotch Scotland Scottish seems slaves soul spirit strong success Syria things thought tion truth whole writing
Pasajes populares
Página 335 - SAY NOT THE STRUGGLE NOUGHT AVAILETH. Say not, the struggle nought availeth, The labour and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been they remain. If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars ; It may be, in yon smoke concealed, Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, And, but for you, possess the field. For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main, And...
Página 48 - Sirs, why do ye these things ? We also are men of like passions with you, and preach unto you that ye should turn from these vanities unto the living God, Who made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and all things that are therein : Who in times past suffered all nations to walk in their own ways.
Página 458 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Página 54 - Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly, but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns, And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Página 456 - ... fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no culture of the earth, no navigation nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea, no commodious building, no instruments of moving and removing such things as require much force, no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time, no arts, no letters, no society, and, which is worst of all, continual fear and danger of violent death, and the life of man solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
Página 331 - OLD things need not be therefore true,' O brother men, nor yet the new ; Ah ! still awhile the old thought retain, And yet consider it again ! The souls of now two thousand years, Have laid up here their toils and fears, And all the earnings of their pain, — Ah, yet consider it again...
Página 282 - Oh, yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; That nothing walks with aimless feet; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Página 342 - Tibur is beautiful, too, and the orchard slopes, and the Anio Falling, falling yet, to the ancient lyrical cadence; Tibur and Anio's tide; and cool from Lucretilis ever, With the Digentian stream, and with the Bandusian fountain, Folded in Sabine recesses, the valley and villa of Horace...
Página 20 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd : The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, And weak beginnings, lie intreasured.
Página 142 - Styx nine times round them," 4 my ideas float on winged words, and as they expand their plumes, catch the golden light of other years. My soul has indeed remained in its original bondage, dark, obscure, with longings infinite and unsatisfied; my heart, shut up in the prison-house of this rude clay, has never found, nor will it ever find, a heart to speak to; but that my understanding also did not remain dumb and brutish, or at ler^th found a language to express itself, I owe to Coleridge.