The Irish Quarterly Review, Том 3

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Сторінка 390 - When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room.
Сторінка 573 - O keep my soul, and deliver me: let me not be ashamed; for I put my trust in thee.
Сторінка 570 - ... no matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery ; the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar and the god sink together in the dust ; his soul walks abroad in her own majesty ; his body swells beyond the measure of his chains that burst from around him, and he stands redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible Genius of UNIVERSAL EMANCIPATION ! [Here Mr.
Сторінка 128 - I'd clasp it round so close and tight, And I would be the necklace, And all day long to fall and rise Upon her balmy bosom, With her laughter or her sighs, And I would lie so light, so light, I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.
Сторінка 152 - Among these unhappy mortals is the writer of dictionaries, whom mankind have considered not as the pupil but the slave of science, the pioneer of literature, doomed only to remove rubbish and clear obstructions from the paths through which learning and genius press forward to conquest and glory, without bestowing a smile on the humble drudge that facilitates their progress.
Сторінка 404 - O to abide in the desert with thee ! Wild is thy lay, and loud, Far in the downy cloud ; Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying ? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
Сторінка 10 - And she went, and sat her down over against him a good way off, as it were a bowshot: for she said, Let me not see the death of the child.
Сторінка 129 - Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Minds innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone, that soar above, Enjoy such liberty.
Сторінка 573 - Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me ; for I am desolate and afflicted.
Сторінка 129 - HE that loves a rosy Cheek, Or a coral Lip admires ; Or from star-like Eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires : As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away ! But a smooth and steadfast Mind, Gentle Thoughts, and calm Desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires ! Where these are not ; I despise Lovely Cheeks ! or Lips ! or Eyes...

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