Catalogue, Descriptive and Historical, of the National Gallery of Scotland

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H.M. Stationery Office, 1868 - 128 pages
 

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Page 48 - And he said unto her, What wilt thou? she saith unto him, Grant that these my two sons may sit, the one on thy right hand, and the other on the left, in thy kingdom.
Page 70 - My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.
Page 125 - SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, ^ Along Morea's hills the setting sun ; Not, as in Northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light ! O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws, Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows.
Page 126 - The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea. And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free, For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
Page 83 - And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, and said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
Page 125 - And eloquence, native to famous wits Or hospitable, in her sweet recess, City or suburban, studious walks and shades. See there the olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long ; There flowery hill Hymettus, with the sound Of bees...
Page 42 - Rubens was, perhaps, the greatest master in the mechanical part of the art, the best workman with his tools, that ever exercised a pencil.
Page 74 - mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, "When upward-springing, blythe, to greet, The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield ; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field Unseen, alane.
Page 95 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made, When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou ! — Scarce were the piteous accents said, When, with the Baron's casque, the maid To the nigh streamlet ran.
Page 125 - O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws Gilds the green wave, that trembles as it glows. On old /Egina's rock, and Idra's isle, The god of gladness sheds his parting smile; O'er his own regions lingering, loves to shine, Though there his altars are no more divine.

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