Choice Literature, Bücher 7American Book Company., 1912 |
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Seite 15
... hand . It was the author of this catastrophe , the gunner whose culpable negligence had caused the accident , the ... hands . between her jaws ! It was his tame monster . He began to address it as he might have done his dog . " Come ...
... hand . It was the author of this catastrophe , the gunner whose culpable negligence had caused the accident , the ... hands . between her jaws ! It was his tame monster . He began to address it as he might have done his dog . " Come ...
Seite 16
... hand - to - hand contest , the gunner approached to challenge the cannon , some chance fluctuation of the waves kept it for a moment immovable , as if suddenly stupefied . " Come on ! " the man said to it . It seemed to listen ...
... hand - to - hand contest , the gunner approached to challenge the cannon , some chance fluctuation of the waves kept it for a moment immovable , as if suddenly stupefied . " Come on ! " the man said to it . It seemed to listen ...
Seite 17
... hand , and the chain multiplying the strokes of the battering - ram by its strokes of a thong , made a fearful whirlwind about the cannon a whip of iron in a fist of brass . This chain complicated the battle . Nevertheless , the man ...
... hand , and the chain multiplying the strokes of the battering - ram by its strokes of a thong , made a fearful whirlwind about the cannon a whip of iron in a fist of brass . This chain complicated the battle . Nevertheless , the man ...
Seite 22
... hand , advanced and stood near him . " March ! " said the sergeant . The platoon moved with slow step toward the bow . The two sailors who carried the shroud followed . A gloomy silence fell upon the corvette . A hurricane moaned in the ...
... hand , advanced and stood near him . " March ! " said the sergeant . The platoon moved with slow step toward the bow . The two sailors who carried the shroud followed . A gloomy silence fell upon the corvette . A hurricane moaned in the ...
Seite 25
... hand as far as he could and began to grope in this hole of shadows . in the granite above the level of the water ... hand , which remained free , he took his knife , which he held between his teeth , and holding the knife with his hand ...
... hand as far as he could and began to grope in this hole of shadows . in the granite above the level of the water ... hand , which remained free , he took his knife , which he held between his teeth , and holding the knife with his hand ...
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Alba Longa ALFRED TENNYSON arms Bass Bassanio battle blood blow born brave breast breath Brutus Cæsar carronade Casca Cassius clouds Clusium cuirassiers dark dead death doth ducats earth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear fire Genappe Gilliatt give Gratiano hand hark hast hath head hear heard heart heaven honor Horatius Jessica Julius Cæsar King Lars Porsena Laun Launcelot light live look lord Lorenzo Lucilius Lucius Mark Antony Messala Nerissa never night noble o'er Octavius octopus Old Glory Portia pray ring Roman Rome Sail Salar shalt ship Shylock smile song soul sound spake speak spirit stand star-spangled banner stood sweet sword tell thee thine things THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY thou art thought thousand thrice Titinius to-day turned unto Venice wave weather WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE wind
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 188 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since : their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou ; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play, Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Seite 241 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well ; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly...
Seite 409 - The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus : Let no such man be trusted.
Seite 472 - 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.
Seite 123 - He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment seat: Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me: As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on.
Seite 326 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Seite 233 - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay!
Seite 475 - I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love 'my friend ; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths...
Seite 248 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Seite 325 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.