The Nineteenth Century, Volumen 26

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Henry S. King & Company, 1889

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Página 311 - ... the art of directing the great sources of power in nature for the use and convenience of man, as the means of production and of traffic in states.
Página 448 - We have but faith : we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see ; And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness : let it grow.
Página 80 - Is not a patron, My Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help?
Página 103 - Was war' ein Gott, der nur von aussen stiesse, Im Kreis das All am Finger laufen liesse ! Ihm ziemt's, die Welt im Innern zu bewegen, Natur in Sich, Sich in Natur zu hegen, So dass, was in Ihm lebt und webt und ist, Nie Seine Kraft, nie Seinen Geist vermisst.
Página 580 - And when he had consulted with the people, he appointed singers unto the LORD, and that should praise the beauty of holiness, as they went out before the army, and to say, Praise the LORD ; for his mercy endureth for ever.
Página 579 - Pray now, buy some : I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burthen and how she longed to eat adders
Página 41 - And grudge to sing those wise and lovely songs Of Fate, and Chance, and God, and Chaos old, And Love and the chained Titan's woful doom, And how he shall be loosed, and make the earth One brotherhood : delightful strains which cheer Our solitary twilights, and which charm To silence the unenvying nightingales.
Página 13 - The conversation of the principal persons of the country all tends to encourage this system of blood ; and the conversation even at my table, where you will suppose I do all I can to prevent it, always turns on hanging, shooting, burning, &c., &c. ; and if a priest has been put to death, the greatest joy is expressed by the whole company.
Página 416 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Página 558 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.

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