The Eagle: A Magazine, Volumes 14-15

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W. Metcalfe, 1887

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Page 382 - Then maids and youths shall linger here, And while its sounds at distance swell, Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, And oft suspend the dashing oar, To bid his gentle spirit rest.
Page 178 - I do not ask my cross to understand, My way to see ; Better in darkness just to feel Thy hand, And follow Thee.
Page 382 - IN yonder grave a Druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave ! The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, To deck its poet's sylvan grave ! In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp ' shall now be laid ; That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds May love through life the soothing shade.
Page 428 - Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down.
Page 382 - No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill's side Whose cold turf hides the buried friend...
Page 19 - In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain Knight ; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. ' His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. ' Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pick out his bonny blue een : Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
Page 250 - Colson in 1886 in memory of the Rev. Henry Hunter Hughes, BD, formerly Fellow and Tutor) is awarded annually for proficiency in Biblical and Ecclesiastical History. Any undergraduate member of the College who has not already held the Exhibition may be a candidate.
Page 178 - I do not ask that flowers should always spring Beneath my feet ; I know too well the poison and the sting Of things too sweet. For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead, Lead me aright — Though strength should falter, and though heart should bleed — Through Peace to Light.
Page 409 - The Evangelist St John my patron was: Three Gothic courts are his, and in the first Was my abiding-place, a nook obscure; Right underneath, the College kitchens made A humming sound, less tuneable than bees, But hardly less industrious; with shrill notes Of sharp command and scolding intermixed.
Page 462 - Recluse ; as having for its principal subject the sensations and opinions of a poet living in retirement.

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