The Eagle, Volume 15W. Metcalfe, 1889 |
Contents
257 | |
265 | |
284 | |
300 | |
301 | |
308 | |
309 | |
325 | |
111 | |
112 | |
122 | |
134 | |
137 | |
149 | |
155 | |
163 | |
174 | |
180 | |
202 | |
205 | |
209 | |
210 | |
215 | |
225 | |
233 | |
251 | |
255 | |
336 | |
377 | |
379 | |
385 | |
418 | |
421 | |
425 | |
437 | |
442 | |
448 | |
461 | |
469 | |
476 | |
486 | |
494 | |
513 | |
525 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
afterwards aged appointed benefactors Bishop Caius Cambridge Chapel Christ's College Church Churchill Babington Class Classical Club Committee Court died Eagle Edited Editors Edward elected England English engraving Examiner Fegan formerly Fellow forward friends goal Henry History honour interest John Johnians Kennedy Lady Margaret last number late Latin Lectures Library LL.B Lond London Lord Mac Alister Magazine Master match Mathematical Mayor Mission Mundahl Oxford Paley Parish Peterhouse played poet portrait present Prize Prof Professor Pullan race Rector residence Rolls Series rooms Roseveare rowed Royal Scholar Scholarships School Second Boat Secretary Senior Senior Wrangler sermon shew Shrewsbury Shrewsbury School Sizar Smith Society St John's College Subscribers success Term Thomas Toynbee Hall Trinity Hall Tripos Tutor undergraduates University University of Cambridge Vicar W. D. Jones W. E. Forster wickets William Wrangler yards ye Kyng καὶ
Popular passages
Page 178 - For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead, Lead me aright — Though strength should falter, and though heart should bleed— Through Peace to Light. I do not ask, O Lord, that thou shouldst shed Full radiance here; Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread Without a fear. I do not ask my cross to understand, My way to see; Better in darkness just to feel Thy hand And follow Thee.
Page 374 - Then maids and youths shall linger here, And while its sounds at distance swell, Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell. Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore When Thames in summer wreaths is drest, And oft suspend the dashing oar, To bid his gentle spirit rest.
Page 374 - IN yonder grave a Druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave ! The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, To deck its poet's sylvan grave ! In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp ' shall now be laid ; That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds May love through life the soothing shade.
Page 19 - In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain Knight ; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. ' His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady's ta'en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. ' Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, And I'll pick out his bonny blue een : Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
Page 374 - No sedge-crown'd sisters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill's side Whose cold turf hides the buried friend...
Page 454 - Recluse ; as having for its principal subject the sensations and opinions of a poet living in retirement.
Page 460 - Of Truth, of Grandeur, Beauty, Love, and Hope, And melancholy Fear subdued by Faith; Of blessed consolations in distress; Of moral strength, and intellectual Power; Of joy in widest commonalty spread...
Page 455 - These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye : But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind.
Page 55 - Among the band of my compeers was one Whom chance had stationed in, the very room Honoured by Milton's name. O temperate Bard! Be it confest that, for the first time, seated Within thy innocent lodge and oratory, One of a festive circle, I poured out Libations, to thy memory drank, till pride And gratitude grew dizzy in a brain Never excited by the fumes of wine Before that hour, or since.
Page 425 - Let him, that is a true-born gentleman, And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off" this brier pluck a white rose with me. Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.