Tinsley's Magazine, Volume 27

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Tinsley Brothers, 1880 - English fiction

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Page 263 - With half-dropt eyelids still, Beneath a heaven dark and holy, To watch the long bright river drawing slowly His waters from the purple hill— To hear the dewy echoes calling From cave to cave thro' the thick-twined vine— To watch the emerald-colour'd water falling Thro' many a wov'n acanthus-wreath divine!
Page 131 - Hitherto the human face had mixed often in my dreams, but not despotically nor with any special power of tormenting. But now that which I have called the tyranny of the human face began to unfold itself. Perhaps some part of my London life might be answerable for this.
Page 132 - I have called the tyranny of the human face began to unfold itself. Perhaps some part of my London life might be answerable for this. Be that as it may, now it was that upon the rocking waters of the ocean the human face began to...
Page 132 - ... heart-breaking partings, and then — everlasting farewells! And with a sigh, such as the caves of Hell sighed when the incestuous mother uttered the abhorred name of death, the sound was reverberated — everlasting farewells! And again and yet again reverberated — everlasting farewells! And I awoke in struggles, and cried aloud — "I will sleep no more.
Page 132 - I lay inactive. Then, like a chorus, the passion deepened; some greater interest was at stake, some mightier cause than ever yet the sword had pleaded, or trumpet had proclaimed. Then came sudden alarms...
Page 281 - ... flashed and failed, We thought of wrecks upon the main, — Of ships dismasted, that were hailed And sent no answer back again. The windows, rattling in their frames, — The ocean, roaring up the beach, — The gusty blast, — the bickering flames, — All mingled vaguely in our speech ; Until they made themselves a part Of fancies floating through the brain, — The long-lost ventures of the heart, That send no answers back again.
Page 132 - Anthem; and, like that, gave the feeling of a multitudinous movement, of infinite cavalcades filing off, and the tread of innumerable armies. The morning was come of a mighty day— a day of crisis and of ultimate hope for human nature, then suffering mysterious eclipse, and labouring in some dread extremity.
Page 211 - True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven : It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die ; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, In body and in soul can bind.
Page 339 - WHEN the summer fields are mown, When the birds are fledged and flown. And the dry leaves strew the path ; With the falling of the snow, With the cawing of the crow, Once again the fields we mow And gather in the aftermath. Not the sweet, new grass with flowers Is this harvesting of ours ; Not the upland clover bloom ; But the rowen mixed with weeds, Tangled tufts from marsh and meads, ' Where the poppy drops its seeds, In the silence and the gloom.
Page 131 - I think it was, that this faculty became positively distressing to me: at night, when I lay awake in bed, vast processions passed along in mournful pomp; friezes of never-ending stories, that to my feelings were as sad and solemn as if they were stories drawn from times before CEdipus or Priam — before Tyre — before Memphis.

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