The Dublin Review, Volume 167
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Page 44 - NOT, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man In me or, most weary, cry / can no more. I can ; Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be. But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me Thy wring-world right foot rock ? lay a lionlimb against me ? scan With darksome devouring eyes my bruised bones ? and fan, O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
Page 41 - I whirled out wings that spell And fled with a fling of the heart to the heart of the Host.
Page 44 - I say more: the just man justices; Keeps grace : that keeps all his goings graces ; Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is Christ - for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his To the Father through the features of men's faces.
Page 61 - First saw the Northern Lights. My eye was caught by beams of light and dark very like the crown of horny rays the sun makes behind a cloud. At first I thought of silvery cloud until I saw that these were more luminous and did not dim the clearness of the stars in the Bear. They rose slightly radiating thrown out from the earthline.
Page 41 - But how shall I ... make me room there: Reach me a ... Fancy, come faster — Strike you the sight of it? look at it loom there, Thing that she . . . there then! the Master, Ipse the only one, Christ, King, Head...
Page 120 - Alto fato di Dio sarebbe rotto, Se Lete si passasse, e tal vivanda Fosse gustata senza alcuno scotto Di pentimento che lagrime spanda.
Page 19 - Of listening crowds with jealousies and fears Of arbitrary counsels brought to light, And proves the king himself a Jebusite. Weak arguments! which yet he knew full well, Were strong with people easy to rebel.
Page 48 - MY aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled, Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun, All felled, felled, are all felled; Of a fresh and following folded rank Not spared, not one That dandled a sandalled Shadow that swam or sank On meadow and river and wind-wandering weedwinding bank.
Page 49 - Day) they were reading in the refectory Sister Emmerich's account of the Agony in the Garden and I suddenly began to cry and sob and could not stop. I put it down for this reason, that if I had been asked a minute beforehand I should have said that nothing of the sort was going to happen and even...
Page 153 - Achilles came to Troyland, And I to Chersonese : He turned from wrath to battle, And I from three days' peace. Was it so hard, Achilles, So very hard to die ? Thou knowest and I know not, So much the happier I.