The Dublin University Magazine: A Literary and Political Journal, 40. köide

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W. Curry, jun., and Company, 1852

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Page 67 - Wherefore tongues are for a sign, not to them that believe, but to them that believe not : but prophesying serveth not for them that believe not, but for them which believe.
Page 12 - Argyle, the state's whole thunder born to wield, And shake alike the senate and the field...
Page 219 - I SHOT an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a...
Page 219 - I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, 1 knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke ; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
Page 147 - Some of them were covered with such extravagant epitaphs, that if it were possible for the dead person to be acquainted with them, he would blush at the praises which his friends have bestowed upon him. There are others so excessively modest, that they deliver the character of the person departed in Greek or Hebrew, and by that means are not understood once in a twelvemonth.
Page 147 - Epitaph on Elizabeth, LH Wouldst thou hear what man can say In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much beauty as could die; Which in life did harbor give To more virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault Leave it buried in this vault. One name was Elizabeth, Th' other, let it sleep with death; Fitter, where it died, to tell, Than that it lived at all.
Page 147 - I've seen enough of thee And now am careless what thou say'st of me Thy smiles I court not nor thy frowns I fear My cares are past my head lies quiet here What faults you saw in me take care to shun And look at home enough there's to be done...
Page 147 - I'd weep the world to such a strain, As it should deluge once again ; " But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies, More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes ; I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds, And write thy epitaph with blood and wounds.
Page 307 - There is, sir, but one stage more, which though turbulent and troublesome, is yet a very short one. Consider, it will soon carry you a great way; it will carry you from earth to heaven; and there you shall find, to your great joy, the prize to which you hasten, a crown of glory.
Page 45 - In vain did Soult, by voice and gesture, animate his Frenchmen; in vain did the hardiest veterans, extricating themselves from the crowded columns, sacrifice their lives to gain time for the mass to open out on such a fair field ; in vain did the mass itself bear up, and fiercely striving, fire indiscriminately...

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