The Cornhill Magazine, Volume 9; Volume 83

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Smith, Elder., 1901
 

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Page 425 - Our soul is escaped even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler ; the snare is broken, and we are delivered.
Page 759 - Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play ! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond to-day. Yet see how all around...
Page 394 - The God of my rock; in him will I trust: He is my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my high tower, and my refuge, My saviour; thou savest me from violence.
Page 582 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness, and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Page 588 - This fortress, built by nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war ; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands ; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Page 588 - England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds...
Page 499 - People who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like," and this is emphatically the sort of thing that Stuccovia likes.
Page 821 - Through the whole Piece you may observe such a similitude of Manners in high and low Life, that it is difficult to determine whether (in the fashionable Vices) the fine Gentlemen imitate the Gentlemen of the Road, or the Gentlemen of the Road the fine Gentlemen.
Page 812 - To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against him; neither have we obeyed the voice of the Lord our God, to walk in his laws, which he set before us by his servants the prophets.
Page 584 - I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, As if a man were author of himself And knew no other kin.

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