The poetic reciter; or, Beauties of the British poets: adapted for reading and recitation, in public and private seminaries. Com piled by H. Marlen1838 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 69.
Pàgina 6
... heard his vain oration , And vented thus his indignation : " O puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace , " When I defy thee to the race . 66 Come , ' tis a match ; nay , no denial ; " I'll lay my shell upon the trial . " ' Twas done , and ...
... heard his vain oration , And vented thus his indignation : " O puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace , " When I defy thee to the race . 66 Come , ' tis a match ; nay , no denial ; " I'll lay my shell upon the trial . " ' Twas done , and ...
Pàgina 17
... heard , not a funeral note , As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our Hero we buried . We buried him darkly at dead of night , The sods with our bayonets turning , By ...
... heard , not a funeral note , As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our Hero we buried . We buried him darkly at dead of night , The sods with our bayonets turning , By ...
Pàgina 18
... heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing . Slowly and sadly we laid him down , From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line , we raised not a stone- But we left him alone with his glory . THE ...
... heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing . Slowly and sadly we laid him down , From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line , we raised not a stone- But we left him alone with his glory . THE ...
Pàgina 20
... In life's morning march , when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain - goats bleating aloft , And knew the sweet strain that the corn - reapers sung . Then pledged we the wine - cup , and fondly 20 THE POETIC RECITER .
... In life's morning march , when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain - goats bleating aloft , And knew the sweet strain that the corn - reapers sung . Then pledged we the wine - cup , and fondly 20 THE POETIC RECITER .
Pàgina 22
... heard my discontent . " The Lion craved the Fox's art ; The Fox , the Lion's force and heart . The Cock implored the Pigeon's flight , Whose wings were rapid , strong , and light : The Pigeon strength of wing despised , And the Cock's ...
... heard my discontent . " The Lion craved the Fox's art ; The Fox , the Lion's force and heart . The Cock implored the Pigeon's flight , Whose wings were rapid , strong , and light : The Pigeon strength of wing despised , And the Cock's ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Poetic Reciter; Or, Beauties of the British Poets: Adapted for Reading ... Henry Marlen Previsualització no disponible - 2016 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
arms behold Belshazzar beneath beneath the sky black crows blessed blest bosom breast breath bright brow Brutus Cæsar clouds cold cried dark dead dear death deep dread dream earth eternal fair fame fate father fear fire flame flowers gazed Gelert glory glow grave Greece hand harp hast hath hear heard heart Heaven hope hour life's light lisp live Lochiel Lochinvar lonely look Lord Lyre Macgregor maid morn mother mourn ne'er Netherby never night numbers o'er pale poor praise pride proud rapture rill round scene seraph shade shore sigh silent sleep smile sorrow soul sound spirit Star of Bethlehem stood storm stream sweet sword tear tempest thee thine thou thought thunder Tis green Tom Long trembling Twas voice wandering waves weep wild wind wings young youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 283 - When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man.
Pàgina 274 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee...
Pàgina 294 - No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Pàgina 62 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place...
Pàgina 285 - I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood...
Pàgina 63 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all. And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Pàgina 283 - But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world: now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
Pàgina 238 - Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. Silence how dead! and darkness how profound! Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds ; Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
Pàgina 238 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?
Pàgina 157 - And e'en the bare-worn common is denied. If to the city sped — What waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share ; To see ten thousand baneful arts combined To pamper luxury, and thin mankind ; To see each joy the sons of pleasure know, Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe.