Macmillan's Magazine, Том 12

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Macmillan and Company, 1865
 

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Сторінка 212 - IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity ; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the sea : Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder everlastingly.
Сторінка 216 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of heaven and home!
Сторінка 217 - TOLL for the brave! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset ; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Сторінка 215 - O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight, — Where are those dreamers now ? One, 'midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream is laid, — The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue, lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, — He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
Сторінка 212 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves ; And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves.
Сторінка 217 - LADY. SWEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid — Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng ; • With gentle yet prevailing force, Intent upon her destined course ; Graceful and useful all she does, Blessing and blest where'er she goes.
Сторінка 294 - I have often inquired of myself what great principle or idea it was that kept this confederacy so long together. It was not the mere matter of the separation of the colonies from the mother-land, but that sentiment in the Declaration of Independence which gave liberty, not alone to the people of this country, but, I hope, to the world, for all future time.
Сторінка 217 - Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up Once dreaded by our foes ! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main...
Сторінка 217 - Robin Gray he was gudeman to me, I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When mournfu...
Сторінка 216 - Home they brought her warrior dead : She nor swooned, nor uttered cry : All her maidens, watching, said, " She must weep or she will die.

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