The National Review, Volume 16

Front Cover
Richard Holt Hutton, Walter Bagehot
Robert Theobald, 1863
 

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Page 85 - To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates...
Page 468 - For we know in part, and we prophesy in part: but when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away.
Page 481 - That saith of Cyrus, He is my shepherd, And shall perform all my pleasure: Even saying to Jerusalem, Thou shalt be built; And to the temple, Thy foundation shall be laid.
Page 64 - Higher still and higher, From the earth thou springest, Like a cloud of fire The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are bright'ning, Thou dost float and run Like an unbodied joy, whose race is just begun.
Page 80 - Life of Life, thy lips enkindle With their love the breath between them; And thy smiles before they dwindle Make the cold air fire; then screen them In those looks, where whoso gazes Faints, entangled in their mazes.
Page 81 - I never was attached to that great sect Whose doctrine is that each one should select Out of the crowd a mistress or a friend, And all the rest, though fair and wise, commend To cold oblivion...
Page 70 - While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead.
Page 68 - One hope within two wills, one will beneath Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death, One Heaven, one Hell, one immortality. And one annihilation. Woe is me ! The winged words on which my soul would pierce Into the height of love's rare Universe, Are chains of lead around its flight of fire. I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire! Weak Verses go, kneel at your Sovereign's feet, And say: — "We are the masters of thy slave ; What wouldest thou with us and ours and thine...
Page 65 - To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted strain (Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond) Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing All independent of the leafy spring.

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