The Hackney magazine

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Page 13 - Is it, 0 man, with such discordant noises, With such accursed instruments as these, Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, And jarrest the celestial harmonies? Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind...
Page 143 - The planet, the pebble, goes attended by its shadow. The rolling rock leaves its scratches on the mountain; the river, its channel in the soil; the animal, its bones in the stratum; the fern and leaf, their modest epitaph in the coal. The falling drop makes its sculpture in the sand or the stone.
Page 74 - WEAVER'S SONG. WEAVE, brothers, weave ! Swiftly throw The shuttle athwart the loom, And show us how brightly your flowers grow, That have beauty, but no perfume ! Come, show us the rose, with a hundred dyes, The lily, that hath no spot ; The violet, deep as your true love's eyes, And the little forget-me-not...
Page 199 - She did so. In the mean time Abraham took a hammer, broke the idols in pieces, all excepting the largest, in whose hands he placed the instrument of destruction.
Page 12 - But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood ; So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying.
Page 13 - The sound must seem an echo to the sense. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent roar. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line too labours, and the words move slow; Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the main.
Page 63 - Kneel, undisturbed, fair Saint ! Pour out your praise or plaint Meekly and duly ; I will not enter there, To sully your pure prayer With thoughts unruly. But suffer me to pace Round the forbidden place, Lingering a minute Like outcast spirits who wait And see through heaven's gate Angels within it.
Page 36 - ... a great hand at buddin, graftin and what not, and the orchard (it was on the south side of the house) stretched right up to the road. Well, there were some trees hung over the fence, I never seed such bearers, the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody touched the minister's apples, and when other folks lost theirn from the boys, hisn always hung there like bait to a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble at em. So I said to...
Page 187 - Herein is the exact difference between the young and the old. The young are not happy but when enjoying pleasure ; the old are happy when free from pain. And this constitution suits with the degrees of animal power which they respectively possess. The...
Page 36 - I'll tell you the secret, but you needn't let on to no one about it. That are row next the fence I grafted it myself, I took great pains to get the right kind, I sent clean up to Roxberry, and away down to Squaw-neck Creek...

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