Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 5

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William Blackwood, 1819 - England
 

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Page 414 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Page 438 - So am I!" But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there; For why? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song.
Page 436 - He grasped the mane with both his hands. And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more.
Page 51 - None so sovereign to the brain. Nature that did in thee excel, Framed again no second smell. Roses, violets, but toys For the smaller sort of boys, Or for greener damsels meant ; Thou art the only manly scent. Stinking'st of the stinking kind, Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind...
Page 210 - And sic a night he taks the road in As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last; The rattling...
Page 437 - The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out: "Well done!
Page 51 - Jewel, Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss, And those forms of old admiring, Call her Cockatrice and Siren, Basilisk, and all that's evil, Witch, Hyena, Mermaid, Devil, Ethiop, Wench, and Blackamoor. Monkey, Ape, and twenty more : Friendly Traitress, Loving Foe, — Not that she is truly so, But no other way they know A contentment to express, Borders so upon excess, That they do not rightly wot Whether it be pain or not.
Page 431 - I strove to cry - my lips were dumb. The steeds rush on in plunging pride; But where are they the reins to guide?
Page 431 - His first and last career is done! On came the troop - they saw him stoop, They saw me strangely bound along His back with many a bloody thong: They stop, they start, they snuff the air, Gallop a moment here and there, Approach, retire, wheel round and round, Then plunging back with sudden bound, Headed by one black mighty steed, Who...
Page 430 - We rustled through the leaves like wind, Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves behind; By night I heard them on the track, Their troop came hard upon our back, With their long gallop, which can tire The hound's deep hate, and hunter's fire...

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