The Southern literary messenger, Zväzky 28–29

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II
1
IV
81
VI
161
VIII
241
X
321
XII
401
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Strana 13 - AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep, where Fame's proud temple shines afar? Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war? Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown ! And yet, the languor of inglorious days Not equally oppressive is to all.
Strana 146 - Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear...
Strana 170 - And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the Most High? 12 Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world ; they increase in riches. 13 Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency . 14 For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning.
Strana 145 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation...
Strana 140 - Now when the sun was setting, all they that had any sick with divers diseases brought them unto him; and he laid his hands on every one of them, and healed them.
Strana 366 - Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that: You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life, When you do take the means whereby I live.
Strana 146 - Come, Sleep, O Sleep, the certain knot of peace. The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, The indifferent judge between the high and low!
Strana 145 - Seized on her sinless soul? Must then that peerless form Which love and admiration cannot view Without a beating heart, those azure veins Which steal like streams along a field of snow, That lovely outline, which is fair As breathing marble, perish?
Strana 145 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Strana 468 - Let your reforms for a moment go ! Look to your butts, and take good aims ! Better a rotten borough or so Than a rotten fleet and a city in flames...

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