The book of recitations [ed.] by C.W. Smith |
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Стр. 6
... lonely echo of a tread Beneath the roof - tree of my glorious dead ! Lead on , my orphan boy ! Thy home is not so desolate to thee- And the low shiver in the linden - tree May bring to thee a joy ; But oh , how dark is the bright home ...
... lonely echo of a tread Beneath the roof - tree of my glorious dead ! Lead on , my orphan boy ! Thy home is not so desolate to thee- And the low shiver in the linden - tree May bring to thee a joy ; But oh , how dark is the bright home ...
Стр. 14
... lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din , And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within ; 6 5 The hall in the Forum , in which the people assembled to transact public business . 6 A mountain near Rome . When the oldest cask is ...
... lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din , And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within ; 6 5 The hall in the Forum , in which the people assembled to transact public business . 6 A mountain near Rome . When the oldest cask is ...
Стр. 43
... lonely return ! For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood , And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood . Lochiel . False Wizard , avaunt ! I have marshalled my clan , ' Their swords are a thousand , their bosoms are ...
... lonely return ! For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood , And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood . Lochiel . False Wizard , avaunt ! I have marshalled my clan , ' Their swords are a thousand , their bosoms are ...
Стр. 45
... Lonely , though princes girt him round , And leaders of the war ; He had cast his jewelled sabre , That many a field had won , To the earth beside his youthful dead- His fair and first - born son . With a robe of ermine for its bed Was ...
... Lonely , though princes girt him round , And leaders of the war ; He had cast his jewelled sabre , That many a field had won , To the earth beside his youthful dead- His fair and first - born son . With a robe of ermine for its bed Was ...
Стр. 49
... lonely folk cut off unseen , And hid in sudden graves ; Of horrid stabs , in groves forlorn , And murders done in caves ; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod , - Ay , how the ghostly hand will point To show the ...
... lonely folk cut off unseen , And hid in sudden graves ; Of horrid stabs , in groves forlorn , And murders done in caves ; And how the sprites of injured men Shriek upward from the sod , - Ay , how the ghostly hand will point To show the ...
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arms bear beauty beneath blood breast breath bright brother brow child cold cried dark dead death deep dread dream earth face fair fall father fear feel fell fire friends gave gazed give gold gone grave hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour king knew land leave light live lonely look Lord mind morn never night o'er once passed peace play poor pride proud replied rest rise rock roll rose round seemed seen side sigh silent sleep smile soon soul sound spirit stand stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought turned Twas voice waves wild wind young youth
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Стр. 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.
Стр. 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!
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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...
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.
Стр. 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.