The Quarterly Review

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William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle)
John Murray, 1866

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417 ページ - He shall not strive, nor cry, neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets ; a bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench ; till he send forth judgment unto victory.
39 ページ - With a, full View of the English-Dutch Struggle against Spain, and of the Origin and Destruction of the Spanish Armada. By JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, LL.D., DCL Portraits.
413 ページ - And it came to pass that after three days they found him in the temple sitting in the midst of the doctors, hearing them and asking them questions.
17 ページ - The Prayer Book Interleaved; with Historical Illustrations and Explanatory Notes arranged parallel to the Text, by the Rev. WM Campion, BD, Fellow and Tutor of Queens
340 ページ - Mistress! dismiss that rabble from your throne: Avaunt - is Aristarchus yet unknown? Thy mighty Scholiast, whose unweary'd pains Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's strains. Turn what they will to Verse, their toil is vain, Critics like me shall make it Prose again. Roman and Greek Grammarians! know your Better: Author of something yet more great than Letter; While tow'ring o'er your Alphabet, like Saul, Stands our Digamma, and o'er-tops them all.
155 ページ - The only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him better than most other men. He is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this Poem to you.
14 ページ - I have come to a determination, when in my power, never to suffer an attack to be made by night upon an enemy who is prepared and strongly posted, and whose posts have not been reconnoitred by daylight.
192 ページ - Where, as to shame the temples deck'd By skill of earthly architect, Nature herself, it seem'd would raise A Minster to her Maker's praise ! Not for a meaner use ascend Her columns, or her arches bend ; Nor of a theme less solemn tells That mighty surge that ebbs and swells, And still, between each awful pause, From the high vault an answer draws, In varied tone prolong'd and high, That mocks the organ's melody.

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