The Caian: The Magazine of Gonville and Caius College, Volumen16

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J. & C. F. Clay and the University Press, 1907
 

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Página 23 - The year's at the spring And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: God's in his heaven — All's right with the world!
Página 113 - The great man, with his free force direct out of God's own hand, is the lightning.
Página 113 - For if we will think of it, no Time need have gone to ruin, could it have found a man great enough, a man wise and good enough : wisdom to discern truly what the Time wanted, valour to lead it on the right road thither; these are the salvation of any Time.
Página 110 - We call that fire of the black thunder-cloud "electricity," and lecture learnedly about it, and grind the like of it out of glass and silk: but what is it? What made it? Whence comes it ? Whither goes it ? Science has done much for us ; but it is a poor science that would hide from us the great deep sacred infinitude of Nescience, whither we can never penetrate, on which all science swims as a mere superficial film. This world, after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle ; wonderful, inscrutable,...
Página 18 - Fifteen men on the dead man's chest — Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Página 129 - OR ever the knightly years were gone With the old world to the grave, I was a King in Babylon And you were a Christian Slave.
Página 129 - A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest ; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
Página 16 - Two or three hours were occupied by him at dinner in laying wait for any unfortunate slip or ridiculous observation that might be made by any of his male visitors, whom, when caught, he never left hold of, till I have seen the sweat run down their faces from the scrape they had got into.
Página 22 - SOULS of Poets dead and gone, What Elysium have ye known, Happy field or mossy cavern, Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? Have ye tippled drink more fine Than mine host's Canary wine? Or are fruits of Paradise Sweeter than those dainty pies Of venison? O generous food! Drest as though bold Robin Hood Would, with his maid Marian, Sup and bowse from horn and can.
Página 196 - ... the sun descending slants its rays upon red cloaks, with here and there a turbaned head, or long streaming hair. The traveller hesitates, but reflecting that he is no longer in the mountains, and that in the open road there is no danger of banditti, he advances. In a moment he is in the midst of...

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