Edinburgh Review, Or, Critical Journal, Volume 110

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A. and C. Black, 1859 - English literature
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Page 261 - ... King, as if he were Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, To...
Page 262 - Let no man dream but that I love thee still. Perchance, and so thou purify thy soul, And so thou lean on our fair father Christ, Hereafter in that world where all are pure We two may meet before high God, and thou Wilt spring to me, and claim me thine, and know I am thine husband — not a smaller soul, Nor Lancelot, nor another. Leave me that, I charge thee, my last hope. Now must I hence. Thro...
Page 259 - And peradventure had he seen her first She might have made this and that other world Another world for the sick man; but now The shackles of an old love straiten'd him, His honour rooted in dishonour stood, And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.
Page 441 - Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea.
Page 237 - It is of little use for me to tell you that Hetty's cheek was like a rose-petal, that dimples played about her pouting lips, that her large, dark eyes hid a soft roguishness under their long lashes, and that her curly hair, though all pushed back under her round cap while she was at work, stole back in dark, delicate rings on her forehead, and about her white, shell-like ears ; it is of little use for me to say how lovely was the contour of her...
Page 260 - Henceforward too, the Powers that tend the soul, To help it from the death that cannot die, And save it even in extremes, began To vex and plague her.
Page 251 - With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. " Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands ; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands ; For man is man and master of his fate.
Page 262 - Lo ! I forgive thee, as Eternal God Forgives : do thou for thine own soul the rest.
Page 224 - AWAKE, my soul, and with the sun Thy daily stage of duty run ; Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise To pay thy morning sacrifice.
Page 233 - If you could make a pudding wi' thinking o' the batter, it 'ud be easy getting dinner. How do I know whether the milk 'ull be wanted constant? What's to make me sure as the house won't be put o' board wage afore we're many months older, and then I may have to lie awake o' nights wi

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