The Court Magazine and Monthly Critic, and Lady's Magazine and Museum: A Family Journal of the Belles Lettres, Music, Fine Arts, Drama, Fashion, Etc, Volume 14

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Page 560 - At last the golden orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre, And Phoebus fresh, as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie hayre, And hurl'd his glist'ring beams through gloomy ayre...
Page 159 - Bra. Look to her, Moor ; have a quick eye to see ; She has deceived her father, and may thee.
Page 411 - When I am dust, my name shall, like a star, Shine through wan space, a glory — and a prophet Whereby pale seers shall from their aery towers Con all the ominous signs, benign or evil, That make the potent astrologue of kings. But shall the Future judge me by the ends That I have wrought, or by the dubious means Through which the stream of my renown hath run Into the many-voiced...
Page 264 - Like sibyls of the future; they have power — The tyranny of pleasure and of pain ; They make us what we were not — what they will, And shake us with the vision that's gone by, The dread of vanish'd shadows — Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow?
Page 620 - I undone. From that hour has reason never Held her empire o'er my brain. Henry fled — with him for ever Fled the wits of Crazy Jane. Now forlorn and broken-hearted...
Page 412 - Tush, tush ! I do not hate ; Nay, I forgive. The Statesman writes the doom, But the Priest sends the blessing. I forgive them, But I destroy ; forgiveness is mine own, Destruction is the State's! For private life, Scripture the guide — for public, Machiavel. Would fortune serve me if the Heaven were wroth? For chance makes half my greatness. I was born Beneath the aspect of a bright-eyed star, * And my triumphant adamant of soul Is but the fix'd persuasion of success.
Page 157 - ... twere With a convulsion — then arose again, And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear What he had written, but he shed no tears. And he did calm himself, and fix his brow Into a kind of quiet ; as he paused, The lady of his love re-entered there ; She was serene and smiling then, and yet She knew she was by him beloved, — she knew, For quickly comes such knowledge...
Page 410 - So sayest thou, sage and sober moralist ! But wert thou tried ? Sublime Philosophy, Thou art the Patriarch's ladder, reaching heaven, And bright with beck'ning angels — but, alas ! We see thee, like the Patriarch, but in dreams, By the first step— dull-slumbering on the earth. I am not happy ! — with the Titan's lust I woo'da goddess, and I clasp a cloud. When I am dust, my name shall, like a star, Shine through wan space, a glory — and a prophet Whereby pale seers shall from their aery towers...
Page 560 - At last the golden oriental gate Of greatest heaven 'gan to open fair, And Phoebus, fresh as bridegroom to his mate, Came dancing forth, shaking his dewy hair, And...
Page 411 - Will bear but one — while round the desperate wretch The hungry billows roar — and the fierce Fate, Like some huge monster, dim-seen through the surf, Waits him who drops;— ye safe and formal men, Who write the deeds, and with unfeverish hand Weigh in nice scales the motives of the Great, Ye cannot know what ye have never tried! History preserves only the fleshless bones Of what we are — and by the mocking skull The would-be wise pretend to guess the features! Without the roundness and the...

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