The book of recitations [ed.] by C.W. Smith |
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Страница 21
... seemed short to the while , Though , proffer the Highlands , nay , all the green isle , With length of existence no man can enjoy , The same to endure , the dread proffer I'd fly ! The thrice - threatened pangs of last night to forego ...
... seemed short to the while , Though , proffer the Highlands , nay , all the green isle , With length of existence no man can enjoy , The same to endure , the dread proffer I'd fly ! The thrice - threatened pangs of last night to forego ...
Страница 40
... seemed Far off the flying fiend . At last appear Hell - bounds , high reaching to the horrid roof , And thrice three - fold the gates , three folds were brass , Three iron , three of adamantine rock , Impenetrable , impaled with ...
... seemed Far off the flying fiend . At last appear Hell - bounds , high reaching to the horrid roof , And thrice three - fold the gates , three folds were brass , Three iron , three of adamantine rock , Impenetrable , impaled with ...
Страница 47
... seemed to thee so stern . " Thou wert the first , the first , fair child That in mine arms I pressed : Thou wert the bright one , that hast smiled Like summer on my breast ! I reared thee as an eagle , To the chase thy steps I led , I ...
... seemed to thee so stern . " Thou wert the first , the first , fair child That in mine arms I pressed : Thou wert the bright one , that hast smiled Like summer on my breast ! I reared thee as an eagle , To the chase thy steps I led , I ...
Страница 50
... lo ! the universal air Seemed lit with ghastly flame ; — Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes Were looking down in blame : I took the dead man by his hand , And called upon his name ! " Oh God ! it made me quake to see 50 POETIC.
... lo ! the universal air Seemed lit with ghastly flame ; — Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes Were looking down in blame : I took the dead man by his hand , And called upon his name ! " Oh God ! it made me quake to see 50 POETIC.
Страница 51
... souls , And mine so black and grim ! I could not share in childish prayer , Nor join in Evening Hymn : Like a Devil of the Pit I seemed , ' Mid holy Cherubim ! " And peace went with them , one and all RECITATIONS . 51.
... souls , And mine so black and grim ! I could not share in childish prayer , Nor join in Evening Hymn : Like a Devil of the Pit I seemed , ' Mid holy Cherubim ! " And peace went with them , one and all RECITATIONS . 51.
Чести термини и фразе
Absalom arms battle beauty beneath blood bosom bowed brave breast breath bright brother brow Cæsar clouds cold cried customed hill dark dead death deep dread dream earth Eleonora di Toledo EUGENE ARAM fair falchion father fear fell gazed Gelert gold grave hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hour Inchcape Rock Jaspar Julius Cæsar king knew Lars Porsena light lips live Lochiel lonely look Lord William loud Macgregor moon morn never Nevermore night numbers o'er once pale pride proud Quoth Quoth the Raven rock rose round Samian wine sate shone shore shout sigh silent slave sleep smile song soul Souliotes sound spake spirit steed stood stream strong sweet sword tears Thaïs thee thine thou thought Twas victorious bands voice wave weary weep wild wind young youth
Популарни одломци
Страница 211 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Страница 130 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird, or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting: "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! Quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Страница 275 - O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Страница 19 - Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Страница 282 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn 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...
Страница 260 - Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
Страница 63 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Страница 278 - tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.
Страница 274 - This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Страница 210 - 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.