Saint Pauls [afterw.] The Saint Pauls magazine, ed. by A. Trollope, Том 12Anthony Trollope 1873 |
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Сторінка 596 - In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. -But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth gently towards a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child's.
Сторінка 604 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Сторінка 691 - More pure than the dewfall, more holy than stars are that live without stain. ATALANTA I would that as water My life's blood had thawn, Or as winter's wan daughter Leaves lowland and lawn Spring-stricken, or ever mine eyes had beheld thee made dark in thy dawn.
Сторінка 600 - Her mind was theoretic, and yearned by its nature after some lofty conception of the world which might frankly include the parish of Tipton and her own rule of conduct there; she was enamoured of intensity and greatness, and rash in embracing whatever seemed to her to have those aspects; likely to seek martyrdom, to make retractions, and then to incur martyrdom after all in a quarter where she had not sought it.
Сторінка 598 - Lillo, if you mean to act nobly, and seek to know the best things God has put within reach of men, you must learn to fix your mind on that end, and not on what will happen to you because of it. And remember, if you were to choose something lower and make it the rule of your life to seek your own pleasure and escape from what is disagreeable, calamity might come just the same ; and it would be...
Сторінка 594 - ... thinking i' this parish and the next to 't, for your name's no better than a brimstone match in everybody's nose — if it isna two-three old folks as you think o' saving your soul by giving 'em a bit o' flannel and a drop o' porridge. An' you may be right i' thinking it'll take but little to save your soul, for it'll be the smallest savin' y' iver made, wi
Сторінка 606 - That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of frequency, has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of mankind ; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.
Сторінка 690 - CHORUS Not with cleaving of shields And their clash in thine ear, When the lord of fought fields Breaketh spearshaft from spear, Thou art broken, our lord, thou art broken, with travail and labour and fear.
Сторінка 691 - CHORUS In the ears of the world It is sung, it is told, And the light thereof hurled And the noise thereof rolled From the Acroceraunian snow to the ford of the fleece of gold.
Сторінка 598 - ... ourselves ; and this sort of happiness often brings so much pain with it, that we can only tell it from pain by its being what we would choose before everything else, because our souls see it is good.