The New Monthly Belle Assemblée, Volumes 66-67

Capa
Joseph Rogerson
 

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Página 3 - 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.
Página 44 - New mercies each returning day Hover around us while we pray — New perils past, new sins forgiven, New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.
Página 21 - TO THE MUSES. WHETHER on Ida's shady brow Or in the chambers of the East, The chambers of the Sun, that now From ancient melody have ceased ; Whether in heaven ye wander fair Or the green corners of the earth, Or the blue regions of the air, Where the melodious winds have birth...
Página 81 - But now they desire a better country, that is, an heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.
Página 61 - Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Página 127 - THE stormy March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies , I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild stormy month! in praise of thee ; Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to rne.
Página 132 - Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a sloping hill, sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river before ; on one side a meadow, on the other a green.
Página 83 - I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 'twas a barbarous deed...
Página 26 - Bring me my Bow of burning gold : Bring me my Arrows of desire : Bring me my Spear : O clouds unfold ! Bring me my Chariot of fire. I will not cease from Mental Fight, Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In England's green and pleasant Land.
Página 28 - Marlowe, bathed in the Thespian springs, Had in him those brave translunary things That the first poets had ; his raptures were All air and fire, which made his verses clear ; For that fine madness still he did retain Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.

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