Tait's Edinburgh Magazine

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William Tait, Christian Isobel Johnstone
W. Tait, 1854
 

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Seite 399 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Seite 59 - Far, far from here, The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay Among the green Illyrian hills ; and there The sunshine in the happy glens is fair, And by the sea, and in the brakes. The grass is cool, the sea-side air Buoyant and fresh, the mountain flowers More virginal and sweet than ours.
Seite 356 - God ; the feeble hands which are unequal to any other weapon will grasp the sword of the Spirit ; and from myriads of humble, contrite hearts, the voice of intercession, supplication, and weeping, will mingle in its ascent to heaven with the shouts of battle and the shock of arms.
Seite 150 - Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted. Lolling at your jovial boards; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets, your cane affords.
Seite 314 - We recall at once the central vision of the Isaiahan rhapsody — one led as a lamb to the slaughter, and the Baptist's application of this to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world.
Seite 311 - Throughout the country the convents are rich in manuscripts and documents written by the early fathers, caciques, and Indians, who very soon acquired the knowledge of Spanish and the art of writing. These have never been examined with the slightest reference to this subject ; and I cannot help thinking that some precious memorial is now mouldering in the library of a neighbouring convent, which would determine the history of some one of these ruined cities ; moreover, I cannot help believing that...
Seite 187 - We walk the wilderness to-day, The promised land to-morrow. Our birds of song are silent now, There are no flowers blooming! Yet life beats in the frozen bough, And Freedom's spring is coming! And Freedom's tide comes up alway, Though we may strand in sorrow, And our good bark, aground to-day, Shall float again to-morrow.
Seite 148 - you will have every word that is spoken here by gentlemen misrepresented by fellows who thrust themselves into our gallery: you will have the speeches of the House every day printed, even during your session, and we shall be looked upon as the most contemptible assembly on the face of the earth...
Seite 311 - Their descendants are still in the land, scattered, perhaps, and retired, like our own Indians, into wildernesses which have never yet been penetrated by a white man, but not lost ; living as their fathers did, erecting the same buildings of " lime and stone," " with ornaments of sculpture and plastered...
Seite 65 - It may be fairly pronounced therefore, that, considering the present average state of the earth, the means of subsistence, under circumstances the most favourable to human industry, could not possibly be made to increase faster than in an arithmetical ratio.

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