The Canadian Magazine, Volume 8

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J. Gordon Mowat, John Alexander Cooper, Newton MacTavish
Ontario Publishing Company, Limited, 1897

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Page 336 - Requiem Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Page 104 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man...
Page 422 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 434 - And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Whilst the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim, with daisies pied ; Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Page 436 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating to the breath Of the night-wind down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Page 421 - SUNSET and evening star, And one clear call for me. And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark: And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho...
Page 434 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 422 - Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone and ta'en thy wages . Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Arv. Fear no more the frown o...
Page 193 - Valeria, the Martyr of the Catacombs. A Tale of Early Christian Life in Rome. By the Rev. WH WITHROW, DD Crown 8vo.
Page 458 - Stars for joy that they are made ; While, out o' touch o' vanity, the sweatin' thrust-block says: 'Not unto us the praise, or man — not unto us the praise!' Now, a' together, hear them lift their lesson — theirs an' mine: 'Law, Orrder, Duty an' Restraint, Obedience, Discipline!

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