Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, 125±Ç

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W. Blackwood & Sons, 1879

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470 ÆäÀÌÁö - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think, I am easier to be played on than a pipe...
467 ÆäÀÌÁö - gainst self-slaughter ! O God ! O God ! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely.
472 ÆäÀÌÁö - I have heard That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
3 ÆäÀÌÁö - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
576 ÆäÀÌÁö - Some trust in chariots, and some in horses : but we will remember the name of the LORD our God. . 8 They are brought down and fallen : but we are risen, and stand upright.
65 ÆäÀÌÁö - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
3 ÆäÀÌÁö - And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,* Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry ! England ! and Saint George ! [Exeunt . Alarum, and Chambers go off.
468 ÆäÀÌÁö - Pale as his shirt ; his knees knocking each other ; And with a look so piteous in purport, As if he had been loosed out of hell, To speak of horrors, — he comes before me.
10 ÆäÀÌÁö - I see one vast confederation stretching from the frozen North in unbroken line to the glowing South, and from the wild billows of the Atlantic westward to the calmer waters of the Pacific main ; and I see one people and one language and one law and one faith, and over all that wide continent the home of freedom and a refuge for the oppressed of every race and of every clime.
174 ÆäÀÌÁö - To church, where I found that my coming in a perriwigg did not prove so strange as I was afraid it would, for I thought that all the church would presently have cast their eyes all upon me, but I found no such thing.2 9th.

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