The Quarterly Review, Volume 137

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John Murray, 1874 - English literature
 

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Page 111 - ON A GIRDLE THAT which her slender waist confined Shall now my joyful temples bind : No monarch but would give his crown His arms might do what this has done. It was my Heaven's extremest sphere, The pale which held that lovely deer : My joy, my grief, my hope, my love Did all within this circle move. A narrow compass ! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair : Give me but what this ribband bound, Take all the rest the Sun goes round.
Page 423 - The Bucentaur lies rotting unrestored, Neglected garment of her widowhood ! St. Mark yet sees his lion where he stood Stand, but in mockery of his...
Page 110 - TO DIANEME. SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes Which starlike sparkle in their skies ; Nor be you proud, that you can see All hearts your captives ; yours yet free : Be you not proud of that rich hair Which wantons with the lovesick air ; Whenas that ruby which you wear, Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, Will last to be a precious stone When all your world of beauty's gone.
Page 504 - Behold, the hire of the labourers who have reaped down your fields, which is of you kept back by fraud, crieth : and the cries of them which have reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of sabaoth.
Page 131 - The Life and Death of John of Barneveld, Advocate of Holland : with a View of the Primary Causes and Movements of " The Thirty Years
Page 139 - Behold His bed, which is Solomon's ; threescore valiant men are about it, of the valiant of Israel. They all hold swords, being expert in war : every man hath his sword upon his thigh because of fear in the night.
Page 139 - Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, perfumed with myrrh and frankincense, with all powders of the merchant?
Page 120 - Has hurried me off to the Po, Forget not Medora Trevilian : My own Araminta, say " No " ! ' We parted ! but sympathy's fetters Reach far over valley and hill ; I muse o'er your exquisite letters, And feel that your heart is mine still ; And he who would share it with me, love,— The richest of treasures below, — If he's not what Orlando should be, love, My own Araminta, say
Page 49 - The American aborigines, Negroes and Europeans are as different from each other in mind as any three races that can be named; yet I was incessantly struck, whilst living with the Fuegians on board the "Beagle...
Page 504 - And all that believed were together, and had all things common ; and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need.

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