Modern Culture, Volume 6

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Edward Cornelius Toune, Graeme Mercer Adam
Self-culture magazine Company, 1898
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Page 490 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages; Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Page 409 - O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company!— To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay!
Page 409 - Is it he? quoth one, 'Is this the man? By Him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross! 'The Spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.
Page 157 - What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling questions, are not beyond all conjecture.
Page 408 - My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank ; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I was so light — almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.
Page 409 - Sometimes a-dropping from the sky, I heard the skylark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are. How they seemed to fill the sea and air, With their sweet jargoning! And now 'twas like all instruments. Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song That makes the heavens be mute.
Page 123 - SHOULD you ask me, whence these stories? Whence these legends and traditions, With the odors of the forest, With the dew and damp of meadows, With the curling smoke of wigwams, With the rushing of great rivers...
Page 147 - Bow wow strain I can do myself like any now going but the exquisite touch which renders ordinary common-place things and characters interesting from the truth of the description and the sentiment is denied to me.
Page 407 - The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white; From the sails the dew did drip Till clomb above the eastern bar The horned Moon, with one bright star Within the nether tip. One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye. Four times fifty living men, (And I heard nor sigh nor groan) With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, They dropped down one by one. The souls did from their bodies fly, They fled to bliss or woe!...
Page 473 - ... is always a choice of difficulties) ought to be a decisive motive for a candid construction of the conduct of the government in making it, and for a spirit of acquiescence in the measures for obtaining revenue which the public exigencies may at any time dictate.

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