Choice Literature, Bücher 7American Book Company., 1912 |
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Seite 41
... rings of a polyp . This could be seen through a vast smoke which was rent asunder at intervals ; it was a pell - mell of hel- mets , shouts , and sabers , a stormy bounding of horses among cannon , and a disciplined and terrible array ...
... rings of a polyp . This could be seen through a vast smoke which was rent asunder at intervals ; it was a pell - mell of hel- mets , shouts , and sabers , a stormy bounding of horses among cannon , and a disciplined and terrible array ...
Seite 65
... rings , the censer swings , And solemn chants resound between . Sometimes on lonely mountain meres , I find a magic bark ; I leap on board : no helmsman steers : I float till all is dark . A gentle sound , an awful light ! Three angels ...
... rings , the censer swings , And solemn chants resound between . Sometimes on lonely mountain meres , I find a magic bark ; I leap on board : no helmsman steers : I float till all is dark . A gentle sound , an awful light ! Three angels ...
Seite 75
... ring clear for the ears that can hear And the name of the secret is Love . For I think it is Love , For I feel it is Love , For I'm sure it is nothing but Love ! TENNYSON'S BIRTHPLACE BUGLE SONG ALFRED TENNYSON 1809-1892 Alfred Tennyson ...
... ring clear for the ears that can hear And the name of the secret is Love . For I think it is Love , For I feel it is Love , For I'm sure it is nothing but Love ! TENNYSON'S BIRTHPLACE BUGLE SONG ALFRED TENNYSON 1809-1892 Alfred Tennyson ...
Seite 119
... rings , Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings : - Build thee more stately mansions , O my soul , As the swift seasons roll ! Leave thy low - vaulted past ! Let each new THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS 119.
... rings , Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings : - Build thee more stately mansions , O my soul , As the swift seasons roll ! Leave thy low - vaulted past ! Let each new THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS 119.
Seite 124
... ring of the same , And the honor and fame so becoming to you ? Your stripes stroked in ripples of white and of red , With your stars at their glittering best overhead - By day or by night Their delightfulest light ― - ― - Laughing down ...
... ring of the same , And the honor and fame so becoming to you ? Your stripes stroked in ripples of white and of red , With your stars at their glittering best overhead - By day or by night Their delightfulest light ― - ― - Laughing down ...
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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.