Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 160

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W. Blackwood, 1896
 

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Pagina 6 - And it came to pass at the seventh time, that he said, Behold, there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand.
Pagina 52 - Now ever alake, my master dear, I fear a deadly storm ! " I saw the new moon, late yestreen, Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; And if we gang to sea, master, I fear we'll come to harm.
Pagina 46 - Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from «• following after thee, for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
Pagina 240 - Is not the whole land before thee? separate thyself, I pray thee, from me : if thou wilt take the left hand, then I will go to the right ; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left.
Pagina 424 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Pagina 155 - Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, bring again, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.
Pagina 497 - I am young, and ye are very old ; Wherefore I was afraid, And durst not show you mine opinion. I said, Days should speak, And multitude of years should teach wisdom.
Pagina 554 - tis an old belief That on some solemn shore, Beyond the sphere of grief," Dear friends shall meet once more — Beyond the sphere of time And sin and fate's control, Serene in endless prime Of body and of soul. That creed I fain would keep, That hope I'll not forego ; Eternal be the sleep, Unless to waken so.
Pagina 86 - And he was clad in coat and hood of green; A sheaf of peacock arrows, bright and keen, Under his belt he bare full thriftily; Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly; His arrows droope'd not with feathers low; And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.
Pagina 417 - Five generations have since passed away; and still the wall of Londonderry is to the Protestants of Ulster what the trophy of Marathon was to the Athenians.

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