A system of elocution based upon grammatical analysis |
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Страница 35
... shore Shall you and I no more Together see the sun of summer set ? For me my days are gone ! No more shall I , in vintage times prepare Chaplets to bind my hair As I was wont - ob , ' twas for you alone ! But on my bier I'll lay Me down ...
... shore Shall you and I no more Together see the sun of summer set ? For me my days are gone ! No more shall I , in vintage times prepare Chaplets to bind my hair As I was wont - ob , ' twas for you alone ! But on my bier I'll lay Me down ...
Страница 80
... shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed , nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage , save his own , When , for a moment , like a drop of rain , He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan , Without a grave , unknell'd ...
... shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed , nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage , save his own , When , for a moment , like a drop of rain , He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan , Without a grave , unknell'd ...
Страница 81
... shores are empires changed in all save thee : Assyria , Greece , Rome , Carthage - what are they ? Thy waters wasted them while they were free , And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger , slave , or savage ; their decay ...
... shores are empires changed in all save thee : Assyria , Greece , Rome , Carthage - what are they ? Thy waters wasted them while they were free , And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger , slave , or savage ; their decay ...
Страница 82
... shore , O'erhung with wild woods , thickening , green ; The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar , Twined amorous round the raptured scene . The flowers sprang wanton to be prest , The birds sang love on every spray , Till too , too soon ...
... shore , O'erhung with wild woods , thickening , green ; The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar , Twined amorous round the raptured scene . The flowers sprang wanton to be prest , The birds sang love on every spray , Till too , too soon ...
Страница 85
... children love to roam Far away in the Indian's sunny home ; But dearer far is the storm - beat strand , And the rugged shores of our own loved land , Where Nature reigns as her fancy wills , In the POETICAL EXTRACTS . 85.
... children love to roam Far away in the Indian's sunny home ; But dearer far is the storm - beat strand , And the rugged shores of our own loved land , Where Nature reigns as her fancy wills , In the POETICAL EXTRACTS . 85.
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Aldabella Antony battle bear Bianca blood bosom brave breast Brutus C. H. SPURGEON Cæsar Caius Verres Casca character Christ Christian dark dead dear death deep Demosthenes divine door doth ducats Duke earth Elocution elocutionary eternal eyes father Fazio feeling give glorious glory grace grave hand hath hear heard heart heaven Highland Highland Hills honour hope HUGHES'S human Jesus JOHN CAIRD justice labour land laws liberty light lips living look Lord Mark Antony mind nature never Nevermore night noble o'er orator passion PATERNOSTER SQUARE prayers principle Quoth the Raven religion sentence shore Shylock smile soul speak spirit St Pier suffered SURPLUS LABOUR sweet sword tears tell thee things THOMAS CHALMERS thou art thought tion tone true utterance Vere voice words
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Страница 43 - How like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him for he Is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
Страница 376 - Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Caesar cried, 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!
Страница 389 - 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.
Страница 390 - Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Страница 382 - I could be well mov'd, if I were as you ; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me : But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality, There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, They are all fire, and every one doth shine ; But there's but one in all doth hold his place...
Страница 140 - Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 0 welcome guest, though unexpected here ! Who bidst me honour with an artless song, Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own ; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Страница 359 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys, and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own.
Страница 137 - 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!
Страница 143 - I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might — But no — what here we call our life is such, So little to be loved, and thou so much, That I should ill requite thee to constrain Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
Страница 49 - Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. "Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.