Sharpe's London Magazine, Volume 4

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T. B. Sharpe, 1847 - English literature
 

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Page 311 - Raca, shall be in danger of the council : but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire. Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way, first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.
Page 110 - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Page 50 - MINE be a cot beside the hill, A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear ; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Page 308 - ... for a fresh coat of ink, which itself again distributes, to meet the ensuing sheet, now advancing for impression ; and the whole of these complicated acts is performed with such a velocity and simultaneousness of movement, that no less than 1,100 sheets are impressed in one hour.
Page 145 - Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I ; No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray. When at last I was forced from my Sheelah to part, She said, (while the sorrow was big at her heart,) Oh ! remember your Sheelah when far, far away : And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray.
Page 145 - Poor dog ! he was faithful and kind, to be sure, And he constantly loved me, although I was poor ; When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away, I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.
Page 64 - I was left too much to my own guidance. Like others, I was inclined to evil passions, but often felt myself checked, and as it were drawn back, by a soft hand upon my head.
Page 145 - I played a sad lament for my poor dog Tray. Where now shall I go, poor, forsaken, and blind? Can I find one to guide me, so faithful and kind? To my sweet native village, so far, far away, I can never more return with my poor dog Tray. 18* THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. ALONE, to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube, . Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er :
Page 104 - And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes, And hands which offer early flowers, Walk smiling o'er this paradise; Above, the frequent feudal towers Through green leaves lift their walls of gray, And many a rock which steeply lowers, And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers; But one thing want these banks of Rhine, — Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!
Page 73 - The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord.

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