The Quarterly Review, Volume 13

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John Murray, 1815 - English literature

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Page 297 - But here,— above, around, below, On mountain or in glen, Nor tree, nor shrub, nor plant, nor flower, Nor aught of vegetative power, The weary eye may ken. For all is rocks at random thrown, Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone...
Page 300 - STRANGER ! if e'er thine ardent step hath traced The northern realms of ancient Caledon, Where the proud Queen of Wilderness hath placed, By lake and cataract, her lonely throne ; Sublime but sad delight thy soul hath known, Gazing on pathless glen and mountain high, Listing where from the cliffs the torrents thrown Mingle their echoes with the eagle's cry, And with the sounding lake, and with the moaning sky.
Page 1 - I answer, that whosoever, in writing a modern history, shall follow truth too near the heels, it may haply strike out his teeth.
Page 280 - The Physiognomical System of Drs Gall and Spurzheim, founded on an Anatomical and Physiological Examination of the Nervous System in general, and of the Brain in particular ; and indicating the Dispositions and Manifestations of the Mind.
Page 492 - Bonaparte destroys the only legal title on which his existence depended : by appearing again in France with projects of confusion and disorder, he has deprived himself of the protection of the law, and has manifested to the universe, that there can be neither peace nor truce with him. The powers consequently declare, that Napoleon...
Page 224 - ? No ! I will march your troops until their legs shall become the size of their bodies. You shall not have a blade of grass nor a drop of water. I will hear of you every time your drum beats, but you shall not know where I am once a month. I will give your army battle, but it must be when I please, and not when you choose.
Page 106 - Seem'd with its piercing melody to reach The soul, and in mysterious unison Blend with all thoughts of gentleness and love. Their hearts were open to the healing power Of nature ; and the splendour of the night, The flow of waters, and that sweetest lay Came to them like a copious evening dew Falling on vernal herbs which thirst for rain.
Page 304 - O ! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant ! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken...
Page 516 - ... and it was utterly impossible to rally a single corps. The enemy, who perceived this astonishing confusion, immediately attacked with their cavalry, and increased the disorder, and such was the confusion, owing to night coming on, that it was impossible to rally the troops, and point out to them their error.
Page 153 - Poetry is of so subtile a spirit, that, in pouring out of one language into another, it will all evaporate ; and, if a new spirit be not added in the transfusion, there will remain nothing but a caput mortuum.

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