The Rival Collection of Prose and Poetry, for the Use of Schools, Colleges and Public ReadersJ. W. Schermerhorn & Company, 1872 - 504 страници |
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Страница 30
... hath blown , That host , on the morrow , lay withered and strewn . For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast , And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill , And their ...
... hath blown , That host , on the morrow , lay withered and strewn . For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast , And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill , And their ...
Страница 38
... hath no stomach to this fight , Let him depart ; his passport shall be made , And crowns for convoy put into his purse . We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us . This day is called the feast of ...
... hath no stomach to this fight , Let him depart ; his passport shall be made , And crowns for convoy put into his purse . We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us . This day is called the feast of ...
Страница 58
... hath yearned so long to see . " His dark eye flashed , his proud breast heaved , his cheek's hue came and went ; He reached that gray - haired chieftain's side , and there , dismount- ing , bent ; A lowly knee to earth he bent , his ...
... hath yearned so long to see . " His dark eye flashed , his proud breast heaved , his cheek's hue came and went ; He reached that gray - haired chieftain's side , and there , dismount- ing , bent ; A lowly knee to earth he bent , his ...
Страница 64
... hath won thee . I shall hear the gush Of music , and the voices of the young ; And life will pass me in the mantling blush , And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; - But thou no more , with thy sweet voice , shalt come To meet ...
... hath won thee . I shall hear the gush Of music , and the voices of the young ; And life will pass me in the mantling blush , And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; - But thou no more , with thy sweet voice , shalt come To meet ...
Страница 102
... hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff oh , quaff this kind nepenthe , and forget this lost Lenore ! " Quoth the raven , " Nevermore ! " 66 Prophet ! " said ...
... hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff oh , quaff this kind nepenthe , and forget this lost Lenore ! " Quoth the raven , " Nevermore ! " 66 Prophet ! " said ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
arms Babie Bell BARBARA FRIETCHIE BATTLE OF FONTENOY beautiful bells Belshazzar beneath BENEDICT ARNOLD bless blood blow blue bosom brave breast breath Bregenz bride bright brow Cæsar CATARACT OF LODORE cheek child cold cried dark dead dear death deep dream dying earth eyes face fair father fell fire flag Fontenoy gazed gold grave gray hair hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honor King kiss land Lars Porsena light lips live Lochinvar look Lord maid mother never Nevermore night o'er once pale Pompey poor pray Quoth the raven Rome rose round Sandalphon sare Scrooge Shamus shore sigh sleep smile soldier song soul SPARTACUS stars stood sweet sword tears tell Tennessee thee there's thou thought Twas voice waves Weller wery wife wild wind wonder word young
Популярни откъси
Страница 275 - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Страница 16 - Flag of the free heart's hope and home, By angel hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
Страница 397 - Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Страница 298 - 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. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time...
Страница 430 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries ' Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Страница 121 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Страница 392 - ... accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Страница 422 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Страница 30 - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
Страница 412 - ... the vile strength he wields for earth's destruction thou dost all despise, spurning him from thy bosom to the skies: and send'st him, shivering, in thy playful spray, and howling, to his Gods, where haply lies his petty hope in some near port or bay; then dashest him again to earth — there let him lay!