The West of Scotland Magazine and Review, Volume 1, Issue 1

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John Churchill, 1844 - English literature

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Page 115 - Wallace's undaunted heart — Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part — (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art—- His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) O never, never Scotia's realm desert ; But still the patriot and the patriot bard In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard ! ROBERT BURNS.
Page 410 - BRIGHT be the place of thy soul ! No lovelier spirit than thine E'er burst from its mortal control, In the orbs of the blessed to shine. On earth thou wert all but divine, As thy soul shall immortally be ; And our sorrow may cease to repine, When we know that thy God is with thee.
Page 99 - Trust ye not in lying words, saying: — "The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, The temple of the Lord are these.
Page 99 - The temple of the Lord, are these. For if ye thoroughly amend your ways and your doings; if ye thoroughly execute judgment between a man and his neighbour; if ye oppress not the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, and shed not innocent blood in this place, neither walk after other gods to your hurt: then will I cause you to dwell in this place, in the land that I gave to your fathers for ever and ever.
Page 351 - I have been writing a ballad, my dear ; I am oppressing my heroine with many misfortunes. I have already sent her Jamie to sea, and broken her father's arm, and made her mother fall sick, and given her Auld Robin Gray for her lover ; but I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow within the four lines, poor thing ! Help me to one." — "Steal the cow, sister Anne,
Page 42 - Draw thy fierce streams of blinding ore, Smite on a thousand anvils, roar Down to the harbour-bars; Smoulder in smoky sunsets, flare On rainy nights, with street and square Lie empty to the stars. From terrace proud to alley base 1 know thee as my mother's face.
Page 40 - mong men, not mailed in scorn, But in the armour of a pure intent, Great duties are before me, and great songs. And whether crowned or crownless, when I fall, It matters not, so as God's work is done.
Page 352 - Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border ! The English, for ance, by guile wan the day ; The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay. We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking; Women and bairns are heartless and wae; Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning — The Flowers of the Forest are a
Page 67 - Pr'ythee, lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own.
Page 61 - Behold he cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see •him, and they [also] who pierced him : and all the tribes of the earth shall wail because of him.

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