The Saturday Magazine, Volume 19

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J. W. Parker, 1841 - Periodicals
 

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Page 70 - The sum is this. If man's convenience, health, Or safety interfere, his rights and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. Else they are all — the meanest things that are, As free to live, and to enjoy that life, As God was free to form them at the first, Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Page 78 - Consider the lilies of the field; they toil not, neither do they spin: yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.
Page 135 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; And e'en those ills, that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms...
Page 209 - See, the Lord hath called by name Bezaleel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah ; and he hath filled him with the spirit of God, in wisdom, in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship...
Page 198 - Miserable they ! Who, here entangled in the gathering ice, Take their last look of the descending sun ; While, full of death, and fierce with tenfold frost, The long long night, incumbent o'er their heads, Falls horrible.
Page 199 - Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around, Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all The stretching landscape into smoke decays!
Page 196 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old : My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe ; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
Page 199 - Enchanting vale! beyond whate'er the Muse Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung ! O vale of bliss! O softly swelling hills! On which the power of cultivation lies, And joys to see the wonders of his toil.
Page 54 - Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at sea. A man dies on shore ; his body remains with his friends, and " the mourners go about the streets ; " but when a man falls overboard at sea and is lost, there is a suddenness in the event, and a difficulty in realizing it, which give to it an air of awful mystery. A man dies on shore — you follow his body to the grave, and a stone marks the spot. You are often prepared for the event. There is always something which...
Page 64 - He seems to have been, at least among us, the author of a species of composition that may be denominated local poetry, of which the fundamental subject is some particular landscape, to be poetically described, with the addition of such embellishments as may be supplied by historical retrospection or incidental meditation.

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