The Sixth Reader: Consisting of Extracts in Prose and Verse, with Biographical and Critical Notices of the Authors : for the Use of Advanced Classes in Public and Private Schools, Книги 6
Brewer and Tileston, 1866 - Всего страниц: 436
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Стр. lxv - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
Стр. 364 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld thou rollest now.
Стр. 406 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Стр. 418 - But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
Стр. 229 - 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.
Стр. 418 - Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart, And in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue, (Which all the while ran blood), great Caesar fell.
Стр. 286 - Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more...
Стр. 406 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care, No children run to lisp their sire's return Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Стр. 231 - 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...