Select Readings from the Poets and Prose Writers of Every Country |
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Стр. 10
Such were the sounds that o ' er the crested pride Of the first Edward scattered
wild dismay , As down the steep of Snowdon ' s shaggy side He wound with
toilsome march his long array . Stout Glo ' ster stood aghast in speechless trance
: .
Such were the sounds that o ' er the crested pride Of the first Edward scattered
wild dismay , As down the steep of Snowdon ' s shaggy side He wound with
toilsome march his long array . Stout Glo ' ster stood aghast in speechless trance
: .
Стр. 11
She - wolf of France , with unrelenting fangs That tear ' st the bowels of thy
mangled mate , From thee be born who o ' er thy country hangs The scourge of
Heaven . What terrors round him wait ! Amazement in his van , with flight
combined ...
She - wolf of France , with unrelenting fangs That tear ' st the bowels of thy
mangled mate , From thee be born who o ' er thy country hangs The scourge of
Heaven . What terrors round him wait ! Amazement in his van , with flight
combined ...
Стр. 14
TENNYSON . LORD ULLIN ' S DAUGHTER . A CHIEFTAIN — to the Highlands
bound , Cries , “ Boatman , do not tarry ! And I ' ll give thee a silver pound , To row
us o ' er the ferry . ” “ Now , who be ye would cross Loch - SELECT READINGS .
TENNYSON . LORD ULLIN ' S DAUGHTER . A CHIEFTAIN — to the Highlands
bound , Cries , “ Boatman , do not tarry ! And I ' ll give thee a silver pound , To row
us o ' er the ferry . ” “ Now , who be ye would cross Loch - SELECT READINGS .
Стр. 15
And by my word ! the bonny bird In danger , shall not tarry : So , though the waves
are raging white , • I ' ll row you o ' er the ferry . " By this , the storm grew loud
apace , The water - wraith was shrieking ; And in the scowl of heaven , each face
...
And by my word ! the bonny bird In danger , shall not tarry : So , though the waves
are raging white , • I ' ll row you o ' er the ferry . " By this , the storm grew loud
apace , The water - wraith was shrieking ; And in the scowl of heaven , each face
...
Стр. 17
Twas vain : the loud waves lashed the shore , Return , or aid preventing : The
waters wild went o ' er his child , And he was left lamenting . CAMPBELL . THE
MISHAP . “ Why art thou weeping , sister ? Why is thy cheek so pale ? Look up ,
dear ...
Twas vain : the loud waves lashed the shore , Return , or aid preventing : The
waters wild went o ' er his child , And he was left lamenting . CAMPBELL . THE
MISHAP . “ Why art thou weeping , sister ? Why is thy cheek so pale ? Look up ,
dear ...
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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
Популярные отрывки
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 |