Chambers's Edinburgh journal, conducted by W. Chambers. [Continued as] Chambers's Journal of popular literature, science and arts, Volume 15

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Page 9 - A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales, that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to sooth, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.
Page 189 - Little. Through sunny May, through sultry June, I loved her with a love eternal ; I spoke her praises to the moon, I wrote them to the Sunday Journal...
Page 189 - And then she danced, — oh, heaven, her dancing! Dark was her hair, her hand was white; Her voice was exquisitely tender; Her eyes were full of liquid light; I never saw a waist so slender; Her every look, her every smile, Shot right and left a score of arrows; I thought 'twas Venus from her isle, And wondered where she'd left her sparrows.
Page 56 - TO ANTHEA. AH, my Anthea ! Must my heart still break ? (Love makes me write, what shame forbids to speak) Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score ; Then to that twenty add a hundred more : A thousand to that hundred : so kiss on, To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.
Page 190 - Go call him by his name ; No fitter hand may crave To light the flame of a soldier's fame On the turf of a soldier's grave ! II.—MOONSHINE.
Page 304 - And as ye go, preach, saying, The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils : freely ye have received, freely give.
Page 252 - And he led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation.
Page 189 - Our love was like most other loves — A little glow, a little shiver ; A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And ' Fly Not Yet,' upon the river ; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted, A miniature, a lock of hair, The usual vows — and then we parted.
Page 188 - Tis noon. The ranks are broken, along the royal line They fly, the braggarts of the Court ! the bullies of the Rhine ! Stout Langley's cheer is heard no more, and Astley's helm is down, And Rupert sheathes his rapier, with a curse and with a frown, And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in their flight, ' The German boar had better far have supped in York to-night...
Page 320 - For full ten years his pointer, Speed, Had couched beneath his master's table ; For twice ten years his old white steed Had fattened in his master's stable. Old Quince averred upon his troth They were the ugliest beasts in Devon, And none knew why he fed them both, With his own hands, six days in seven. Whene'er they heard his ring or knock, Quicker than thought the village slatterns Flung down the novel, smoothed the frock, And took up Mrs. Glasse or patterns.

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