The British Quarterly Review, Volume 22Henry Allon Hodder and Stoughton, 1855 |
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admitted ancient appears Armenians army Austria beautiful Bible Black Sea British cause century character Christian chronology Church civilization Congress of Vienna creation Crimea doctrine dominions Edmund Spenser empire England English Europe existence fact Faerie Queen favour feel France French G. C. Lewis Gabriel Harvey German give hand Heavenly honour human influence interest Jesuitism King laws less letters London Lord matter Maud means ment mind ministers miracle moral nation nature never Newton Nutt object officers original Paris partition of Poland party peace Persia philosopher poem poet Poland political possession present Prince principle question races readers religion remarkable Russia scarcely Sebastopol Spain Spenser spirit Sydney Sydney Smith Tayler things thought tion true truth Turkey Turkish verse volume whole words writings young
Popular passages
Page 414 - There has fallen a splendid tear From the passion-flower at the gate. She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, 'She is near, she is near;' And the white rose weeps, 'She is late;' The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear;' And the lily whispers, 'I wait.
Page 160 - In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part ; For the gods see everywhere.
Page 423 - We are puppets, Man in his pride, and Beauty fair in her flower; Do we move ourselves, or are moved by an unseen hand at a game That pushes us off from the board, and others ever succeed?
Page 181 - The Sloth, in its wild state, spends its life in trees, and never leaves them but from force or accident. The Eagle to the sky, the Mole to the ground, the Sloth to the tree ; but what is most extraordinary, he lives not upon the branches, but under them. He moves suspended, rests suspended, sleeps suspended, and passes his life in suspense — like a young clergyman distantly related to a bishop.
Page 432 - Peace sitting under her olive, and slurring the days gone by, When the poor are hovell'd and hustled together, each sex, like swine, When only the ledger lives, and when only not all men lie; Peace in her vineyard — yes ! — but a company forges the wine.
Page 432 - Grind on the wakeful ear in the hush of the moonless nights, While another Is cheating the sick of a few last gasps, as he sits To pestle a poison'd poison behind his crimson lights.
Page 435 - Tho' many a light shall darken, and many shall weep For those that are crush'd in the clash of jarring claims, Yet God's just wrath shall be wreak'd on a giant liar ; And many a darkness into the light shall leap, And shine in the sudden making of splendid names, And noble thought be freer under the sun, And the heart of a people beat with one desire...
Page 421 - The tiny cell is forlorn, Void of the little living will That made it stir on the shore. Did he stand at the diamond door Of his house in a rainbow frill? Did he push, when he was uncurl'd, A golden foot or a fairy horn Thro...
Page 406 - I HATE the dreadful hollow behind the little wood, Its lips in the field above are dabbled with blood-red heath, The red-ribb'd ledges drip with a silent horror of blood, And Echo there, whatever is ask'd her, answers
Page 297 - I now design to suppress. Philosophy is such an impertinently litigious lady, that a man had as good be engaged in lawsuits, as have to do with her.