Macmillan's Magazine, Volume 43

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Macmillan and Company, 1881
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Page 376 - Were with his heart, and that was far away ; He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize ; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday.
Page 240 - Heat like the mouth of a hell, or a deluge of cataract skies, Stench of old offal decaying, and infinite torment of flies, Thoughts of the breezes of May blowing over an English field, Cholera, scurvy, and fever, the wound that would not be...
Page 242 - Madam, I beg your pardon \ I think that you mean to be kind, But I cannot hear what you say for my Willy's voice in the wind — The snow and the sky so bright — he used but to call in the dark, And he calls to me now from the church and not from the gibbet — for hark \ Nay — you can hear it yourself — it is coming — shaking the walls — Willy — the moon's in a cloud Good-night. I am going. He calls. THE NORTHERN COBBLER I WAAIT till our Sally cooms in, fur thou mun a
Page 29 - I do not think that the religious sentiment was ever strongly developed in me), to the firm conviction of the existence of God, and of the immortality of the soul. In...
Page 240 - Revenge with a swarthier alien crew, And away she sail'd with her loss and long'd for her own ; When a wind from the lands they had ruin'd awoke from sleep, And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their flags, And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shotshatter'd navy of Spain, And the little Revenge herself...
Page 207 - I do declare that no foreign prince, person, prelate, state, or potentate hath, or ought to have any jurisdiction, power, superiority, preeminence, or authority, ecclesiastical or spiritual, within this realm; so help me God.
Page 375 - 'Give me a republic. The king-times are fast finishing; there will be blood shed like water and tears like mist, but the peoples will conquer in the end. I shall not live to see it, but I foresee it.
Page 403 - The schools of ancient sages; his, who bred Great Alexander to subdue the world, Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next : There...
Page 377 - ... died having produced too little and being as yet too immature to rival them. I for my part can never even think of equalling with them any other of their contemporaries;— either Coleridge, poet and philosopher wrecked in a mist of opium; or Shelley, beautiful and ineffectual angel, beating in the void his luminous wings in vain. Wordsworth and Byron stand out by themselves. When the year 1900 is turned, and our nation comes to recount her poetic glories in the century which has then just ended,...
Page 258 - I don't agree with you. I think just the other way. I don't know whether I succeed in expressing myself, but I know that nothing else expresses me. Nothing that belongs to me is any measure of me; everything's on the contrary a limit, a barrier, and a perfectly arbitrary one. Certainly the clothes which, as you say, I choose to wear, don't express me; and heaven forbid they should!

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