The Dublin university magazine, Volumen25

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Página 223 - O Lord, I will praise thee : though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou comfortedst me. Behold, God is my salvation ; I will trust, and not be afraid ; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song ; he also is become my salvation.
Página 217 - The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast: Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever new, And lively cheer, of vigour born, The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light That fly th
Página 21 - O keep my soul, and deliver me: let me not be ashamed; for I put my trust in thee.
Página 653 - A brighter wash ; to curl their waving hairs, Assist their blushes, and inspire their airs ; Nay, oft, in dreams, invention we bestow, To change a flounce, or add a furbelow.
Página 653 - Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain . Others, on earth, o'er human race preside, Watch all their ways, and all their actions guide Of these the chief the care of nations own, And guard with arms divine the British throne. " Our humbler province is to tend the fair, Not a less pleasing, though less glorious care ; To save the powder from too rude a gale, Nor let th...
Página 144 - we are weary, And we cannot run or leap; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go; And, underneath, our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For, all day, we drag our burden tiring Through the coal-dark underground; Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round.
Página 653 - On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Página 649 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Página 217 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty : Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry : Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind And snatch a fearful joy.
Página 296 - That night she gaed awa! The Powers aboon can only ken To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean!

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