The Quarterly Review, Volume 41

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John Murray, 1829 - English literature

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Page 17 - The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry ; Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy. Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed, Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast...
Page 136 - Iberos veteres traiecisse easque sedes occupasse fidem faciunt. Proximi Gallis et similes sunt, seu durante originis vi, seu procurrentibus in diversa terris positio coeli corporibus habitum dedit.
Page 240 - God wot! not contenting themselves with the yearly revenues and profits that were wont to grow to their forefathers and predecessors of their lands, nor being content that they live in rest and pleasure — nothing profiting, yea, much annoying the weal publick — leave no ground for tillage; they enclose all into pastures, they throw down houses, they pluck down towns, and leave nothing standing but only the church to be made a sheephouse.
Page 240 - I) your sheep that were wont to be so meek and tame, and so small eaters, now, as I hear say, be become so great devourers and so wild, that they eat up, and swallow down the very men themselves. They consume, destroy, and devour whole fields, houses, and cities.
Page 284 - MAWE'S (HL) Journal of a Passage from the Pacific to the Atlantic, crossing the Andes in the Northern Provinces of Peru, and descending the great River Maranon.
Page 296 - My doctrine shall drop as the rain, my speech shall distil as the dew, as the small rain upon the tender herb, and as the showers upon the grass : Because I will publish the name of the Lord: ascribe ye greatness unto our God.
Page 447 - To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth 'scapes i...
Page 299 - POETRY, written at the close of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth centuries...
Page 291 - Twere almost sacrilege to sing Those notes amid the glare of day ; Notes borne by angels' purest wing, And wafted by their breath away. When, sleeping in my grass-grown bed, Shouldst thou still linger here above, Wilt thou not kneel beside my head, And, sister, sing the song I love?
Page 290 - WHEN evening spreads her shades around, And darkness fills the arch of heaven , When not a murmur, not a sound To Fancy's sportive ear is given; When the broad orb of heaven is bright, And looks around with golden eye; When Nature...

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