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admiration ALCIBIADES ancient appears Aristophanes Athenian Athens authority bodily hurt CALLICLES CALLIDEMUS character Cicero circumstances civil Clause committed considered court crime criminal culpable homicide defamation defended Demosthenes Divine Comedy doubt eloquence eminent England English Ennius Euripides evidence evil false father fear feeling framed friends genius give Greece Greek hand hath head HIPPOMACHUS homicide honor House House of Commons Iliad imprisonment imputation India inflicted Jacobinism Johnson King language Lars Porsena Latin less literature live Livy Lord Lordship in Council manner master means ment mind Mitford murder never o'er offence opinion Parliament passed passion penal law person Petrarch Pitt poem poet possession produced propose provision punishment Roman Rome scarcely seems servants slaves society SPEUSIPPUS spirit strong suffer sword thee theft thou thought tion tribunals truth Whig writer
Стр. 608 - Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land of France! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Стр. 651 - Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea, Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be. From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay. That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day; For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame spread, High on St. Michael's Mount it shone: it shone on Beachy Head, Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire.
Стр. 532 - Tiber! father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, Take thou in charge this day ! ' So he spake, and speaking sheathed The good sword by his side, And with his harness on his back Plunged headlong in the tide.
Стр. 608 - 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. 524 - To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late; And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his Gods...
Стр. 386 - Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death, A universe of death ; which God by curse Created evil, for evil only good ; Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, Abominable, unutterable, and worse Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceived, Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire.
Стр. 533 - No sound of joy or sorrow 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. 531 - 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.
Стр. 609 - Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, a deafening shout, "God save our lord the King!" " And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may — For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray — Press where ye see my white plume shine amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.
Стр. 613 - The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia, and pages of Whitehall ; They are bursting on our flanks. Grasp your pikes, close your ranks ; For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall. They are here ! They rush on I We are broken ! We are gone ! Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast.