The American First Class Book, Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation, Книга 4

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T.P. & J.S. Fowle, 1823 - 480 страници

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Lines written in a Highland Glen Wilson 266 121 The Young Herdsman Wordsworth
Heroick Selfdenial Lend Lit Gaz
On the Waste of Life Franklin
The Young Minstrel Beatlie
On the Use and Abuse of Amusements Alison
Forest Trees W Irving
Old Mortality Talcs of My Landlord 298 136 The same concluded Ibid
The Religious Cottage D Huntington
The Discontented Pendulum ioufts Magazine
A belief in the Superintendence of Providence the only adequate Support under Affliction
Irftteffiom the British Spy in Virginia Wirt
Thanksgiving Crafts
The Deaf Mans Grave Wordsworth 306 152 A Natural Mirror Idi
Burial places near Constantinople Jlnaslasius
Death and Burial of a Child at Sea Anonymous 220 108 Affecting picture of Constancy in Love Crabbe 242 113 Deathscene in Gertrude of Wyom...
A Thunderstorm among the Highlands of Scotland Wilson
DIALOGUES ADDRESSES AND SOLILOQUIES 139 The Aldermans Funeral Soulhey 308
The Churchyardfirst and second voices Karamsin
The Abuses of Conscience a sermon Sleme
The same continued Ibid
Lochiels Warning Campbell 406 178 Extract from a dialogue between a satiric poet and his friend Pope 410 179 Prince Edward and his keeper Mis...
The Blind Preacher Wirt
Arthur Hubert and attendants Shakspeare
Contrasts of Alpine Scenery Byfon
Extract from Heaven and Eartha Mystery Byron
Gil Bias and the Archbishop from Le Sage 436 192 Alexander the Great and a Robber Dr Aikin 438 194 Soliloquy of Macbeth Shakspeare
Description of the Castle of Indolence and its
Religion and Superstition contrasted Mrs Carter 362 209 On the moral uses of the phenomena of the material universe Alison

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Страница 449 - When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse.
Страница 28 - The sober herd that low'd to meet their young ; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school ; The watch-dog's voice, that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Страница 435 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Страница 449 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Страница 284 - 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.
Страница 446 - tis true, this god did shake ; His coward lips did from their colour fly, And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him and write his speeches in their books, Alas, it cried, 'Give me some drink, Titinius,
Страница 256 - Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.
Страница 448 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears : I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Ca-sar.
Страница 27 - All sadness but despair : now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest ; with such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...
Страница 448 - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as he was valiant, I honour him ; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.