Iliff's Select Readings for Public and Private Entertainment: Containing Choice Selections of the Most Pathetic, Gay, Humorous ... Accompanied by Explanatory Notes Together with Appropriate Elocutionary Instructions ...
John W. Iliff, 1893 - Всего страниц: 519
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Iliff's Select Readings for Public and Private Entertainment: Containing ...
John W Iliff
Недоступно для просмотра - 2015
ALFRED TENNYSON angels Annabel Lee Anonymous Bardell battle beautiful bells blood brave breast breath Bret Harte brow called CHARLES MACKAY Charles Sumner cheek child Cleon Daniel Webster dark dead dear death don'd dream Duluth earth elocution eyes face father fear feel Felicia Hemans fire forever glory gone grave gray hair hand head hear heard heart heaven hill honor Irwin Russell John kiss land laugh light lips live look mother never night Number o'er patriotism Pickwick Piegans poor prayer Proctor Knott river Robert Young Hayne rose round SHAMUS Shump smile song sorrow soul sound South Carolina speak spirit stand stood storm style sweet tears tell thee there's thing thou thought to-day tone Twas voice wave wife wild wind word young
Стр. 405 - Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave.
Стр. 52 - The hills, Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, — the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between ; The venerable woods — rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Стр. 483 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...
Стр. 403 - My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs; She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful. She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man...
Стр. 452 - How it went to pieces all at once,— All at once, and nothing first,— Just as bubbles do when they burst.
Стр. 405 - In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must...
Стр. 476 - THOU lingering star, with lessening ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Стр. 323 - In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now — now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Стр. 241 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Стр. 150 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!