Tait's Edinburgh Magazine

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William Tait, Christian Isobel Johnstone
W. Tait, 1842
 

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Page 222 - ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord! we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
Page 356 - O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! And closed for aye the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly : And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary.
Page 356 - semblance in another's case. No voice divine the storm allay'd, No- light propitious shone; When, snatch'd from all effectual aid, We perish'd each alone : But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.
Page 357 - That ev'ry naig was ca'da shoe on, The smith and thee gat roaring fou on ; That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, Thou drank wi
Page 356 - But, Oh ! fell Death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early ! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary...
Page 358 - Tam had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; Tam lo'ed him like a very brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi...
Page 361 - The poor Inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame, But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name ! Reader, attend — whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ; Know, prudent, cautious self-control Is wisdom's root.
Page 222 - In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half-hung, The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies — alas!
Page 186 - He then seated himself upon a sofa, and calling to me, said, ' Come, — Evelina, — come and sit by me.' ' I obeyed; and he took me almost in his arms, — that is, one of his arms, for one would go three times, at least, round me, — and, half laughing, half serious, he charged me to ' be a good girl !' ' ' But, my dear,' continued he with a very droll look, 'what makes you so fond of the Scotch?
Page 242 - But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a meditative life. She is more the companion of her own thoughts and feelings; and if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation! Her lot is to be wooed and won; and if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and sacked, and abandoned and left desolate.

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