The National Review

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R. Theobald, 1859
 

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Page 375 - I am the eye with which the Universe Beholds itself and knows itself divine; All harmony of instrument or verse, All prophecy, all medicine are mine, All light of art or nature; — to my song, Victory and praise in their own right belong.
Page 5 - Where the thin harvest waves its wither'd ears; Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land, and rob the blighted rye: There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war; There poppies, nodding, mock the hope of toil; There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf; O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade, And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade; With...
Page 202 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ! Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Page 266 - Scouring of the White Horse. Or, the Long Vacation Ramble of a London Clerk. By the Author of
Page 389 - The subject of this essay is not the so-called "liberty of the will," so unfortunately opposed to the misnamed doctrine of philosophical necessity; but civil, or social liberty: the nature and limits of the power which can be legitimately exercised by society over the individual.
Page 92 - Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way...
Page 15 - twas mine to trace the hilly heath, And all the mossy moor that lies beneath : Here had I favourite stations, where I stood And heard the murmurs of the ocean-flood, With not a sound beside, except when flew Aloft the lapwing, or the gray curlew, Who with wild notes my fancied power defied, And mock'd the dreams of solitary pride.
Page 5 - With ceaseless motion comes and goes the tide, Flowing, it fills the channel vast and wide ; Then back to sea, with strong majestic sweep It rolls, in ebb yet terrible and deep ; Here Samphire-banks and Salt-wort bound the flood, There stakes and sea-weeds withering on the mud ; And higher up, a ridge of all things base, Which some strong tide has roll'd upon the place.
Page 406 - No one pretends that actions should be as free as opinions. On the contrary, even opinions lose their immunity, when the circumstances in which they are expressed are such as to constitute their expression a positive instigation to some mischievous act. An opinion that corn-dealers are starvers of the poor, or that private property is robbery, ought to be unmolested when simply circulated through the press, but may justly incur punishment when delivered, orally to an excited mob assembled before...
Page 110 - Apparet domus intus et atria longa patescunt, apparent Priami et veterum penetralia regum; armatosque vident stantes in limine primo.

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