The New Century: 4th-5th Reader. Revised, Книги 5Rand, McNally & Company, 1902 |
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Стр. 11
... side Like the horns of an angry bull . Her rattling shrouds , all sheathed in ice , With the masts went by the board ; Like a vessel of glass , she stove and sank , Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! At daybreak , on the bleak sea - beach ...
... side Like the horns of an angry bull . Her rattling shrouds , all sheathed in ice , With the masts went by the board ; Like a vessel of glass , she stove and sank , Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! At daybreak , on the bleak sea - beach ...
Стр. 32
... . Yet still on every side we trace the hand Of Winter in the land , Save where the maple reddens on the lawn , Flushed by the season's dawn . Or where , like those strange semblances we find That 32 THE NEW CENTURY READER . Henry Timrod.
... . Yet still on every side we trace the hand Of Winter in the land , Save where the maple reddens on the lawn , Flushed by the season's dawn . Or where , like those strange semblances we find That 32 THE NEW CENTURY READER . Henry Timrod.
Стр. 55
... side of compassion than severity . If , perchance , the scales of justice be not correctly balanced , lot the error be imputable to pity , not to gold . If , perchance , the cause of thine enemy come before thee , forget thy injuries ...
... side of compassion than severity . If , perchance , the scales of justice be not correctly balanced , lot the error be imputable to pity , not to gold . If , perchance , the cause of thine enemy come before thee , forget thy injuries ...
Стр. 62
... hardly any fortified points , it was open on all sides . Fortunately the man who was sent for the de- fense of Southern Territory was Southern born . He was a native of South Carolina , and he had 62 THE NEW CENTURY READER .
... hardly any fortified points , it was open on all sides . Fortunately the man who was sent for the de- fense of Southern Territory was Southern born . He was a native of South Carolina , and he had 62 THE NEW CENTURY READER .
Стр. 71
... side , a small door in the gable end that faced the road , and a low door - step before it . It was the thing called house , in its simplest form . But for its roof , windows , and door , it had been a box , large , rough , and ...
... side , a small door in the gable end that faced the road , and a low door - step before it . It was the thing called house , in its simplest form . But for its roof , windows , and door , it had been a box , large , rough , and ...
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Absalom Acadian Antonio Bassanio beauty bells beneath breath Bregenz brother BUNKER HILL MONUMENT Bushrod Washington called Caxton Colard Mansion cottage dark dead death deep Don Quixote door Duchess of Burgundy Duke earth English eyes face father fear feel fire glory Gluck grave green hand happiness head hear heard heart heaven hill honor horse hour human JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER King labor land liberty light living look Lord Maid ment mind morning mountain nature never night noble Normans o'er passed peace Portia river Lee ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON round Scrooge seemed Shandon shore Shylock side silent smile snow soldier soul sound spirit stand stone stood sweet tears thee thine thing thou thought tion trees turned whole William Caxton wind wood words young
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Стр. 50 - The earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods. Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? and who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.
Стр. 146 - You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.
Стр. 69 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; .Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship God !* he says, with solemn air.
Стр. 159 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Стр. 83 - Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave. Await alike the' inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Стр. 47 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave; Think ye he meant them for a slave?
Стр. 298 - 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. 102 - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above Deep is the air, and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! O dread and silent Mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.
Стр. 47 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now — The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Стр. 84 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench, the blushes of ingenuous shame...