Select Readings from the Poets and Prose Writers of Every Country |
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Стр. x
I stand deeply indebted to Alfred Tennyson , Esq . , Charles Mackay , Esq . , and
Miss Eliza Cook , for their kind and generous interest in this movement , and to
many others whom it would be tedious to name . I shall conclude this necessary ...
I stand deeply indebted to Alfred Tennyson , Esq . , Charles Mackay , Esq . , and
Miss Eliza Cook , for their kind and generous interest in this movement , and to
many others whom it would be tedious to name . I shall conclude this necessary ...
Стр. 5
... The good we might do here . Speak gently ! love doth wbisper low . The vows
that true hearts bind , And gently friendship ' s accents flow Affection ' s voice is
kind . Speak gently to the little child ! Its love be " SPEAK GENTLY . " Speak
Gently.
... The good we might do here . Speak gently ! love doth wbisper low . The vows
that true hearts bind , And gently friendship ' s accents flow Affection ' s voice is
kind . Speak gently to the little child ! Its love be " SPEAK GENTLY . " Speak
Gently.
Стр. 13
Lady Clara Vere de Vere , When thus he met his mother ' s view , She had the
passions of her kind , She spake some certain truths of you . Indeed I heard one
bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear ; Her manners had not that repose ...
Lady Clara Vere de Vere , When thus he met his mother ' s view , She had the
passions of her kind , She spake some certain truths of you . Indeed I heard one
bitter word That scarce is fit for you to hear ; Her manners had not that repose ...
Стр. 14
Kind hearts are more than coronets , And simple faith than Norman blood . I know
you , Clara Vere de Vere : You pinė among your halls and towers : - The languid
light of your proud eyes Is wearied of the rolling hours . In glowing health , with ...
Kind hearts are more than coronets , And simple faith than Norman blood . I know
you , Clara Vere de Vere : You pinė among your halls and towers : - The languid
light of your proud eyes Is wearied of the rolling hours . In glowing health , with ...
Стр. 19
I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement , and
felt what kind of sickness of the heart it is which arises from hope deferred . Upon
looking nearer , I saw him pale and feverish : in thirty years the western breeze ...
I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement , and
felt what kind of sickness of the heart it is which arises from hope deferred . Upon
looking nearer , I saw him pale and feverish : in thirty years the western breeze ...
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Antony arms bear beauty bells better bird blessed breath bright Brutus Cæsar child CITIZEN cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep door dying earth Emma eyes face fair fall father fear feel fire flowers friends gentle give grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills honour hope hour John kind king knew Labour Lady land leave light live look mind morning mother nature never night o'er once pass play poor praise Queen reply rest rise round side sleep smile song soon soul sound speak spirit stood strong sure sweet tears tell thee There's thing thou thought toil Twas voice waves wife wild
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Стр. 350 - When even at last the solemn hour shall come, And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, Will rising wonders sing. I cannot go Where universal love not smiles around, Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns; From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression.
Стр. 171 - Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
Стр. 45 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Стр. 178 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood...
Стр. 22 - Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land ? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod ; They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God.
Стр. 177 - O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity ; these are gracious drops ; Kind souls ! What; weep you, when you but behold Our Ceesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
Стр. 74 - The world recedes: it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy Victory? O Death! where is thy Sting.
Стр. 350 - Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song, — where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, — 'tis naught to me : Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste, as in the city full ; And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.
Стр. 225 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. The merry Homes of England! Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light ! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told, Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page...
Стр. 295 - Wherein you dress'd yourself ? hath it slept since ? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time, Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour, As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem' st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting I dare not wait upon I would, Like the poor cat i
Библиографические данные
| Название | Select Readings from the Poets and Prose Writers of Every Country |
| Автор | James Fleming (ed) |
| Издание: | 4 |
| Опубликована: | 1866 |
| Владелец оригинала: | Калифорнийский университет |
| Оцифровано | 7 дек 2007 |
| Экспорт цитаты | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |