Historical ballads, ed. and annotated by C.M. Yonge, arranged to meet the new code of 1882, schedule II., English, Volum 3 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 79.
Pàgina 6
... my iron cars , Dost thou wonder , Roman , What if Cæsar aims To lord it universal o'er the world , Shall the world tamely crouch at Cæsar's footstool ? W. MASON . WOODSTOCK PARK . ( Alfred the Great , 849-901 ; 6 CARACTACUS .
... my iron cars , Dost thou wonder , Roman , What if Cæsar aims To lord it universal o'er the world , Shall the world tamely crouch at Cæsar's footstool ? W. MASON . WOODSTOCK PARK . ( Alfred the Great , 849-901 ; 6 CARACTACUS .
Pàgina 8
... Lord of the harp and liberating spear ; Mirror of princes ! Indigent renown2 Might range the starry ether3 for a crown Equal to his deserts , who like the year Pours forth his bounty , like the day doth cheer , And awes the night with ...
... Lord of the harp and liberating spear ; Mirror of princes ! Indigent renown2 Might range the starry ether3 for a crown Equal to his deserts , who like the year Pours forth his bounty , like the day doth cheer , And awes the night with ...
Pàgina 9
... lord , awaiting burial . DUNSTAN . Hers ? Withdraw the winding - sheet , that once again I may behold her . Art thou she indeed ? The blankness of mortality in thee Seems more than in another ! Where be now The flushings of the fervent ...
... lord , awaiting burial . DUNSTAN . Hers ? Withdraw the winding - sheet , that once again I may behold her . Art thou she indeed ? The blankness of mortality in thee Seems more than in another ! Where be now The flushings of the fervent ...
Pàgina 10
... lord , The king , so please you- DUNSTAN . What sir , of the king ? ATTENDANT . He is again delirious , and hath torn The bandage from his wound ; he bleeds amain . Enter another ATTENDANT . My lord , the king ! the king ! DUNSTAN ...
... lord , The king , so please you- DUNSTAN . What sir , of the king ? ATTENDANT . He is again delirious , and hath torn The bandage from his wound ; he bleeds amain . Enter another ATTENDANT . My lord , the king ! the king ! DUNSTAN ...
Pàgina 11
... lord , But rages now afresh . DUNSTAN . How came he hither ? ATTENDANT . He asked us if the queen were buried yet , Or where the body lay . We told him here , And he commanded we should bring him . DUNSTAN . See ! EDWIN . Thy hand is ...
... lord , But rages now afresh . DUNSTAN . How came he hither ? ATTENDANT . He asked us if the queen were buried yet , Or where the body lay . We told him here , And he commanded we should bring him . DUNSTAN . See ! EDWIN . Thy hand is ...
Frases i termes més freqüents
ARCHBISHOP CHICHELEY arms AULUS DIDIUS AUMERLE banners bards battle bear behold Bertrand du Guesclin blood BOLINGBROKE brave brother Bucentaur BUCKINGHAM Calais CARACTACUS CARDINAL Clarence Cromwell crown dead death deep DICK dost doth DUCHESS Duke Earl England English Enter Exeunt eyes F. T. PALGRAVE fair falchions father fear fell fight France gallant gentle Geoffrey Chaucer GLENDOWER glory Gloster grace grief hand Harry Percy hath head hear heart Heaven Henry IV honour horse host HOTSPUR HUBERT Jack Cade KING HENRY KING RICHARD king's knight look lord Lord Hastings Matthew Gough merry Mortimer never noble Northumberland numbers o'er peace Percy pray Price 8d pride prince QUEEN rebels REGENT Roundhead royal Saint slain sleep smile soul spake spear steed SWINTON sword tears thee thine thou hast thought Tower unto victory waves WOLSEY word Yonge YORK
Passatges populars
Pàgina 282 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day Battle's...
Pàgina 191 - Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a {grammar-school ; and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used ; and, contrary to the king, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
Pàgina 281 - And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips, — "The foe! They come! They come!
Pàgina 125 - Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity, so it was, That villanous saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns, He would himself have been a soldier.
Pàgina 97 - And thus still doing, thus he passed along. Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rode he the whilst ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious ; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
Pàgina 281 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass...
Pàgina 229 - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Pàgina 228 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth : my high blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye : I feel my heart new open'd : O ! how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes
Pàgina 43 - Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!
Pàgina 44 - Hark, how each giant oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath ! O'er thee, 0 king ! their hundred arms they wave, Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.