The Rival Collection of Prose and Poetry, for the Use of Schools, Colleges and Public ReadersJ. W. Schermerhorn & Company, 1872 - Всего страниц: 504 |
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Стр. 29
... tell how far he wandered else ! Upon that grave I knelt , an altered man , And , rising thence , I fled from Mantua ; -nor had returned , But tyrant hunger drove me back again To thee to thee ! -my body to relieve , At cost of my dear ...
... tell how far he wandered else ! Upon that grave I knelt , an altered man , And , rising thence , I fled from Mantua ; -nor had returned , But tyrant hunger drove me back again To thee to thee ! -my body to relieve , At cost of my dear ...
Стр. 35
... tell . All the horrors of war , before known or heard of , were mercy to that new havoc . A storm of universal fire blasted every field , consumed every house , and destroyed every temple . The miserable inhabitants , flying from their ...
... tell . All the horrors of war , before known or heard of , were mercy to that new havoc . A storm of universal fire blasted every field , consumed every house , and destroyed every temple . The miserable inhabitants , flying from their ...
Стр. 45
... Tell me , -- for you were there , —— I appeal to the gallant soldier before me ( Sir Henry Hardinge ) , from whose opinions I differ , but who bears , I know , a generous heart in an intrepid breast ; -tell me , -- for you must needs ...
... Tell me , -- for you were there , —— I appeal to the gallant soldier before me ( Sir Henry Hardinge ) , from whose opinions I differ , but who bears , I know , a generous heart in an intrepid breast ; -tell me , -- for you must needs ...
Стр. 49
... tell one tale , let me sing one song ; ' Tis a tale devoid of an aim or a plan , " Tis a simple song of a one - armed man . Till this very hour , who would ever believe , What a tell - tale thing is an empty sleeve , What a weird ...
... tell one tale , let me sing one song ; ' Tis a tale devoid of an aim or a plan , " Tis a simple song of a one - armed man . Till this very hour , who would ever believe , What a tell - tale thing is an empty sleeve , What a weird ...
Стр. 59
... tell me what is this ? The voice , the glance , the heart I sought , -give answer , where are they ? -If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul , send life through this cold clay ! " Into these glassy eyes put light ; -be still ! keep ...
... tell me what is this ? The voice , the glance , the heart I sought , -give answer , where are they ? -If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul , send life through this cold clay ! " Into these glassy eyes put light ; -be still ! keep ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
arms Babie Bell BARBARA FRIETCHIE BATTLE OF FONTENOY beautiful bells Belshazzar beneath BENEDICT ARNOLD bless blood blow blue bosom brave breast breath Bregenz bride bright brow Cæsar CATARACT OF LODORE cheek child cold cried dark dead dear death deep dream dying earth eyes face fair father fell fire flag Fontenoy gazed gold grave gray hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor King kiss land Lars Porsena light lips live Lochinvar look Lord maid mother never Nevermore night o'er once pale Pompey poor pray Quoth the raven Rome rose round Sandalphon sare Scrooge Shamus shore sigh sleep smile soldier song soul SPARTACUS stars stood sweet sword tears tell Tennessee thee there's thou thought Twas voice waves Weller wery wife wild wind wonder word young
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 275 - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Стр. 16 - Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
Стр. 397 - Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Стр. 298 - To die — to sleep. To sleep — perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub! For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time...
Стр. 430 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries ' Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Стр. 121 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Стр. 392 - ... accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Стр. 422 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Стр. 30 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Стр. 412 - ... the vile strength he wields for earth's destruction thou dost all despise, spurning him from thy bosom to the skies: and send'st him, shivering, in thy playful spray, and howling, to his Gods, where haply lies his petty hope in some near port or bay; then dashest him again to earth — there let him lay!