Tait's Edinburgh Magazine, Volym 2

Framsida
William Tait, Christian Isobel Johnstone
W. Tait, 1835
 

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Sida 391 - There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.
Sida 361 - Oh! the miller, how he will laugh, When he sees the mill-dam rise! The jolly old miller, how he will laugh, Till the tears fill both his eyes!' "And some they seized the little winds, That sounded over the hill, And each put a horn into his mouth, And blew both loud and shrill: '"And there...
Sida 165 - When I have borne in memory what has tamed Great nations, how ennobling thoughts depart When men change swords for ledgers, and desert The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed I had, my country !— am I to be blamed?
Sida 4 - But how can He expect that others should Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all...
Sida 115 - Cry out and shout, thou inhabitant of Zion : For great is the Holy One of Israel in the midst of thee.
Sida 162 - twas a famous victory. "My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by; They burnt his dwelling to the ground, And he was forced to fly: So with his wife and child he fled, Nor had he where to rest his head.
Sida 362 - And then outspoke a brownie, With a long beard on his chin ; 'I have spun up all the tow,' said he, ' And I want some more to spin.
Sida 240 - The most marked traits in the character of Arkwright were his wonderful ardor, energy, and perseverance. He commonly labored in his multifarious concerns from five o'clock in the morning till nine at night ; and, when considerably more than fifty years of age, feeling that the defects of his education placed him under great difficulty and inconvenience in conducting his correspondence, and in the general management of his business, he encroached upon his sleep, in order to gain an hour each day to...
Sida 157 - Now, men of death, work forth your will, For I can suffer, and be still ; And come he slow, or come he fast, It is but Death who comes at last.
Sida 163 - How oft, pursuing fancies holy, My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I wound, Inspired, beyond the guess of folly, By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound...

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