The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation: Selected Principally from Modern Authors of Great Britain and America, and Designed for the Use of the Highest Class in Public and Private Schools
George F. Cooledge, 1835 - Всего страниц: 480
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Amias Paulet animals arms baneful band beauty beneath bless bosom breath bright Cadmus called calm Christian clouds cold dark dead death deep delight dread Duellist earth eternal Eurystheus eyes faith father fear feel flowers friends gaze George Somers grave hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills honor hope hour human irreligion labors LESSON light live look Lycidas melan mind moon morning mortal Moss-side mother mountain mournful Mozart mummies nature never night o'er objects Old Mortality passed peace pleasure Pompey's Pillar poor Pron Pythias racter religion Rigi rocks round scene seemed Shakspeare silent sleep smile sorrow soul sound spect spirit stood stream sublime sweet tears tender thee thing thou thought tion tomb trees truth virtue voice Wallace's Cave wandering waves wild winds youth
Стр. 256 - Take the wings Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings, — yet the dead are there: And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep, — the dead reign there alone.
Стр. 255 - When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart — Go forth, under the open sky, and list To nature's teachings, while from all around — Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — Comes a still voice...
Стр. 252 - Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Стр. 452 - ... tis true, this god did shake ; His coward lips did from their colour fly; And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, Alas ! it cried, " Give me some drink, Titinius,
Стр. 455 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the Nervii : — Look ! In this place ran Cassius...
Стр. 469 - The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.
Стр. 353 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Стр. 456 - I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Стр. 374 - And he divided unto them his living. And not many days after the younger son gathered all together and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living and when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would . . . fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat; and no man gave unto...
Стр. 352 - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill; Together both, ere the high lawns appeared Under the opening eyelids of the morn, We drove a-field, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn...