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ancient appear Appius arms Aulus ballads battle beneath blood borne brave bridge close comes Consul dark dead deep early earth face fair fall father fear fell fight fire give glory gold Greek hand hath head hear heard heart Herminius hill Horatius horse Italy King lake land Latin light living looked Lord loud marched minstrels Naevius never night o'er once pass Plautus poem poet poetry pride probable proud race ranks rich Roman Rome rose round rushed says Sextus shield shout side sing smile song sound spake spears stand stood story strange sword thee thine thou thousand to-day towers triumph turned unto victory voice wall wild young
Стр. 145 - Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of Trent ; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.
Стр. 51 - And, like a horse unbroken When first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, And tossed his tawny mane, And burst the curb, and bounded Rejoicing to be free, And whirling down, in fierce career. Battlement, and plank, and pier Rushed headlong to the sea. LVI I. Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind ; . - . Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. " Down with him ! " cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars...
Стр. 139 - Bartholomew," was passed from man to man, But out spake gentle Henry "No Frenchman is my foe. Down, down, with every foreigner, but let your brethren go...
Стр. 138 - Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, Charge for the golden lilies, — upon them with the lance. A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest ; And in they burst, and on they rush'd, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre.
Стр. 139 - Ho! maidens of Vienna; Ho! matrons of Lucerne ; Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.
Стр. 137 - And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish spears. There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our land ! And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand ! And as we looked on them, we thought of Seine's...
Стр. 52 - Was heard from either bank, But friends and foes in dumb surprise, With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank; And when above the surges They saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer.
Стр. 49 - Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread: And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay. But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. 'Come back, come back, Horatius!
Стр. 50 - Back darted Spurius Lartius ; Herminius darted back ; And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack. But when they turned their faces, And on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, They would have crossed once more.