Clan-Albyn, Volume 73

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G. Routledge & Company, 1853 - Highlands (Scotland) - 480 pages

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Page 210 - Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide ; To lose good days that might be better spent ; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow ; To feed on hope ; to pine with fear and sorrow ; To have thy Prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 28 - Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew ; Twas certain he could write, and cipher too ; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And e'en the story ran that he could gauge...
Page 98 - And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Beth-lehem. And Jacob set a pillar upon her grave : that is the pillar of Rachel's grave unto this day.
Page 457 - And Joseph made ready his chariot, and went up to meet Israel his father, to Goshen, and presented himself unto him; and he fell on his neck, and wept on his neck a good while. ^And Israel said unto Joseph, Now let me die, since I have seen thy face, because thou art yet alive.
Page 202 - Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school: and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
Page 57 - Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land.
Page 205 - Be hush'd, my dark spirit ! for wisdom condemns When the faint and the feeble deplore ; Be strong as the rock of the ocean that stems A thousand wild waves on the shore...
Page 33 - Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain. These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art.
Page 58 - Here as I take my solitary rounds, Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

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