Tinsley's Magazine, Volume 23

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Tinsley Brothers, 1878 - English fiction
 

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Page 263 - Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Page 412 - Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong, They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Page 265 - neath a curtain of translucent dew. Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus with the host of heaven came, And, lo ! creation widened in man's view.
Page 18 - ... with which its scheme accommodates itself to the capacity of every human intellect, in the consolation which it bears to the house of mourning, in the light with which it brightens the great mystery of the grave. To such a system it can bring no addition of dignity or of strength that it is part and parcel of the common law.
Page 267 - Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells: In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me, In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground; Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be) Who have felt the weight of too much liberty, Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
Page 19 - ... by its opposition. Those who thrus.t temporal sovereignty upon her treat her as their prototypes treated her author. They bow the knee, and spit upon her ; they cry
Page 18 - The real security of Christianity is to be found in its benevolent morality, in its exquisite adaptation to the human heart, in the facility with which its scheme accommodates itself to the capacity of every human intellect, in the consolation which it bears to the house of mourning, in the light with which it brightens the great mystery of the grave.
Page 266 - For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom! — We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest: The wealthiest man among us is the best: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living and high thinking are no more: The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, And pure religion breathing household laws.
Page 267 - NUNS fret not at their convent's narrow room ; And hermits are contented with their cells ; And students with their pensive citadels : Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, Sit blithe and happy ; bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells : In truth, the prison unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is...
Page 584 - Oh, Love! what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah, why With cypress branches hast thou Wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh?

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