Caledonia: A Monthly Magazine of Literature, Antiquity, & Tradition, Chiefly Northern, Томи 1 – 2

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Сторінка 478 - I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars; I loiter round my cresses ; • And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Сторінка 350 - The head of John the Baptist. 25 And she came in straightway with haste unto the king, and asked, saying, I will that thou give me by and by in a charger the head of John the Baptist.
Сторінка 350 - And it came to pass as they came, when David was returned from the slaughter of the Philistine, that the women came out of all cities of Israel, singing and dancing, to meet king Saul, with tabrets, with joy, and with instruments of music. And the women answered one another as they played, and said, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.
Сторінка 1 - O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!
Сторінка 350 - And he sware unto her, Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give it thee, unto the half of my kingdom.
Сторінка 473 - No, sir ; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.
Сторінка 350 - And when the daughter of the said Herodias came in, and danced, and pleased Herod and them that sat with him, the king said unto the damsel, Ask of me whatsoever thou wilt, and I will give it thee.
Сторінка 97 - Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well...
Сторінка 76 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires, — 'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Сторінка 376 - Along these blushing borders bright with dew, And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers, Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace — Throws out the snow-drop and the crocus first...

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