(The British readers). The first (-sixth) reader, ed. by T. Morrison. The literary reader, a companion vol. to the fifth and sixth readers |
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Seite 42
... feel The dint of pity ; these are gracious drops . Kind souls , what , weep you when you but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded ? look you here , Here is himself , marr'd , as you see , with traitors . * * * * * Good Friends , sweet ...
... feel The dint of pity ; these are gracious drops . Kind souls , what , weep you when you but behold Our Cæsar's vesture wounded ? look you here , Here is himself , marr'd , as you see , with traitors . * * * * * Good Friends , sweet ...
Seite 62
... of Skippon , the black dragoons of pride ; The recreant heart of Fairfax shall feel a sicklier qualm , And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm , When they see my lady's gewgaw flaunt proudly on their 62 LITERARY READER .
... of Skippon , the black dragoons of pride ; The recreant heart of Fairfax shall feel a sicklier qualm , And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a louder psalm , When they see my lady's gewgaw flaunt proudly on their 62 LITERARY READER .
Seite 69
... feel at least a patriot's shame , Even as I sing , suffuse my face ; For what is left the poet here ? — For Greeks , a blush ! —for Greece , a tear ! 7. Must we but weep o'er days more bless'd ? Must we but blush ? -our fathers Bled ...
... feel at least a patriot's shame , Even as I sing , suffuse my face ; For what is left the poet here ? — For Greeks , a blush ! —for Greece , a tear ! 7. Must we but weep o'er days more bless'd ? Must we but blush ? -our fathers Bled ...
Seite 79
... feel my pulses thrill , Like a rich harp - string , yearning to caress thee , And hear thy sweet ' my father ! ' from those dumb And cold lips , Absalom ! 6. " The grave hath won thee ! I shall hear the gush Of music , and the voices of ...
... feel my pulses thrill , Like a rich harp - string , yearning to caress thee , And hear thy sweet ' my father ! ' from those dumb And cold lips , Absalom ! 6. " The grave hath won thee ! I shall hear the gush Of music , and the voices of ...
Seite 118
... feel your fingers let them through ! But they answer , " Are your cowslips of the meadows Like our weeds anear the mine ? Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal - shadows , From your pleasures fair and fine ! 6. " For oh , " say the ...
... feel your fingers let them through ! But they answer , " Are your cowslips of the meadows Like our weeds anear the mine ? Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal - shadows , From your pleasures fair and fine ! 6. " For oh , " say the ...
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(the British Readers). the First (-Sixth) Reader, Ed. by T. Morrison. the ... Thomas Morrison (Ll D ),Thomas Morrison (Ll D. ). Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2018 |
(The British Readers). the First (-Sixth) Reader, Ed. by T. Morrison. the ... Thomas Morrison (Ll D ) Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2015 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Alençon arms arrow art thou Arth Barbara Frietchie battle BATTLE OF MORGARTEN blood born bosom breath brother Brutus Cæsar Clar Clarence clouds crown Dacotahs dark dead death deed deep died doth dreadful Duke earth Enter ERPINGHAM eyes fair fall father fear fire forest Gaunt give glove grace grave hand happy Harfleur hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha honour hope Hubert John John of Gaunt Julius Cæsar king land Laughing Water light live Lochiel look lord majesty mercy morning mountain murdered nature never Nevermore night noble Nokomis o'er peace poet postilion prince red deer rising rock round scene Shylock sleep smiled soldiers sorrow soul speak stood sweet tears Tell thee thou thought voice waves weep wild word Yarrow young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 310 - Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, Nods and becks and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Seite 81 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. Or whispering with white lips — "The foe! They come! they come ! " And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering
Seite 60 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Seite 48 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted— nevermore!
Seite 246 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Seite 80 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered 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! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Seite 45 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Seite 16 - When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
Seite 47 - thing of evil— prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!
Seite 80 - As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! Arm! Arm! it is! — it is! — the cannon's opening roar! Within a window'd niche of that high hall Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival, And caught its tone with death's prophetic ear...