The English Orator: a Selection of Pieces for Reading & Recitation

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publisher not identified, 1833 - Всего страниц: 216
 

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Стр. 162 - Julius bleed for justice' sake ? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What ! shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
Стр. 12 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Стр. 132 - I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life ; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
Стр. 163 - Is't possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares?
Стр. 133 - And this man Is now become a god; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body, If Caesar carelessly but nod on him ! He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake. 'Tis true, this god did shake — His coward...
Стр. 182 - To die, — to sleep ; — To sleep ! perchance to dream : — ay, there's the rub ; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come. When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause : there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life...
Стр. 77 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Стр. 149 - Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush ?— Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae ! What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah ! no ; —the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, ' Let one living head, But one arise, — we come, we come!
Стр. 68 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii : Look, in this place ran Cassius...
Стр. 148 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sat on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations; — all were his! He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set where were they?

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