The Quarterly Review

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William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle)
John Murray, 1811 - English literature

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Page 33 - See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again ; The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
Page 320 - Neither be ye idolaters, as were some of them; as it is written, The people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play.
Page 290 - An Experiment in Education, made at the Male Asylum of Madras ; suggesting a System by which a School or Family may teach itself under the Superintendence of the Master or Parent.
Page 461 - Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes, Should vie with him for mastery, whose study Had busied many hours to perfect practice ; To end the controversy, in a rapture Upon his instrument he plays so swiftly So many voluntaries, and so quick That there was curiosity and cunning, Concord in discord, lines of differing method Meeting in one full centre of delight.
Page 459 - A lightless sulphur, chok'd with smoky fogs Of an infected darkness : in this place Dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts Of never-dying deaths: there damned souls Roar without pity; there are gluttons fed With toads and adders; there is burning oil Pour'd down the drunkard's throat; the usurer Is forced to sup whole draughts of molten gold...
Page 443 - The idol is a block of wood, having a frightful visage painted black, with a distended mouth of a bloody colour. His arms are of gold, and he is dressed in gorgeous apparel. The other two idols are of a white and yellow colour. — Five elephants preceded the three towers, bearing towering flags, dressed in crimson caparisons, and having bells hanging to their caparisons, which sounded musically as they moved.
Page 402 - There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found ; They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, Low in the ground. 2. The storm that wrecks the winter sky, No more disturbs their deep repose Than summer evening's latest sigh, That shuts the rose.
Page 461 - I heard The sweetest and most ravishing contention That art and nature ever were at strife in. A sound of music touch'd mine ears, or rather Indeed entranced my soul ; as I stole nearer...
Page 402 - Hark ! a strange sound affrights mine ear ; My pulse, my brain runs wild, — I rave : Ah ! who art thou whose voice I hear ?
Page 408 - Of that devoted vessel, tost By winds and floods, now seen, now lost ; While every gun-fire spread A dimmer flash, a fainter roar ; — At length they saw, they heard no more. There are to whom that ship was dear, For love and kindred's sake ; When these the voice of Rumour hear, Their inmost heart shall quake, Shall doubt, and fear, and wish, and grieve, Believe, and long to unbelieve, But never cease to ache ; Still doom'd, in sad suspense, to bear The Hope that keeps alive Despair.

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