Temple Bar, Volume 15

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Ward and Lock, 1865

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Page 103 - And yet, steeped in sentiment as she lies, spreading her gardens to the moonlight, and whispering from her towers the last enchantments of the Middle Age, who will deny that Oxford, by her ineffable charm, keeps ever calling us nearer to the true goal of all of us, to the ideal, to perfection, — to beauty, in a word, which is only truth seen from another side? — nearer, perhaps, than all the science of Tubingen.
Page 476 - Here's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate ; And whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate. Though the ocean roar around me, Yet it still shall bear me on ; Though a desert should surround me, It hath springs that may be won.
Page 252 - Britain's isle, no matter where, An ancient pile of building stands ; The Huntingdons and Hattons there Employ'd the power of fairy hands To raise the ceiling's fretted height, Each pannel in achievements clothing, Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages, that lead to nothing.
Page 406 - How oft do they with golden pinions cleave The flitting skies like flying pursuivant, Against foul fiends to aid us militant ! They for us fight ; they watch and duly ward, And their bright squadrons round about us plant ; And all for love and nothing for reward : Oh why should heavenly God to men have such regard) THE SEASONS.
Page 402 - RED o'er the forest peers the setting sun. The line of yellow light dies fast away That crowned the eastern copse : and chill and dun Falls on the moor the brief November day.
Page 95 - Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
Page 104 - tis very fine, But where d'ye sleep, or where d'ye dine? I find by all you have been telling, That 'tis a house, but not a dwelling.
Page 97 - The Wicklow hills are very high, And so's the Hill of Howth, sir; But there's a hill, much bigger still, Much higher nor them both, sir: 'Twas on the top of this high hill St.
Page 100 - O ye spires of Oxford ! domes and towers ! Gardens and groves! your presence overpowers The soberness of reason; till, in sooth, Transformed, and rushing on a bold exchange, I slight my own beloved Cam, to range Where silver Isis leads my stripling feet; Pace the long avenue, or glide adown The stream- like windings of that glorious street — An eager Novice robed in fluttering gown ! 1810.
Page 239 - Altogether at least a score of pigeons might be chosen, which if shown to an ornithologist, and he were told that they were wild birds, would certainly, I think, be ranked by him as well-defined species.

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