Exercises in Reading and Recitation |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 20
Page 31
... dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft , at dawn , deep noon or falling eve , By brooks and groves , in hollow whispering gales . Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd , And spreads a common feast for all that live . In Winter awful thou ...
... dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft , at dawn , deep noon or falling eve , By brooks and groves , in hollow whispering gales . Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd , And spreads a common feast for all that live . In Winter awful thou ...
Page 36
... dreadful circumstances , and a death equally glorious , be the lot of all , whom tyranny of whatever description or denomination , shall , in any age , or in any country , call to expiate their virtues on the scaffold ! BATTLE OF WARSAW ...
... dreadful circumstances , and a death equally glorious , be the lot of all , whom tyranny of whatever description or denomination , shall , in any age , or in any country , call to expiate their virtues on the scaffold ! BATTLE OF WARSAW ...
Page 38
... dreadful appear , Draw , dotard , around thy old wavering sight ; This mantle , to cover the phantoms of fright ... dreadfully driven From his eyrie , that beacons the darkness of heaven . Oh , crested Lochiel ! the peerless in ...
... dreadful appear , Draw , dotard , around thy old wavering sight ; This mantle , to cover the phantoms of fright ... dreadfully driven From his eyrie , that beacons the darkness of heaven . Oh , crested Lochiel ! the peerless in ...
Page 40
... dreadful revelry . Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n , Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n , And louder than the bolts of heaven , Far flash'd the red artillery . And redder yet those fires shall glow , On Linden's hills of ...
... dreadful revelry . Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n , Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n , And louder than the bolts of heaven , Far flash'd the red artillery . And redder yet those fires shall glow , On Linden's hills of ...
Page 81
... dreadful note ? Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath ? Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote ; Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath Tyrants and tyrants ' slave ? -the fires of death , The bale - fires flash on high ...
... dreadful note ? Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath ? Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote ; Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath Tyrants and tyrants ' slave ? -the fires of death , The bale - fires flash on high ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
angel Antium Arcot arms battle behold bliss blood breast breath Brutus Cæsar CARDINAL WOLSEY Cassius cloud Coriolanus dark dead death deep divine dreadful earth Erin go bragh eternal eyes fair father fear feel friends give glory hand happy hath hear heard heart Heaven hell Hevey honour hope hour house of Bourbon human Hyder Ali Ithuriel Jesus king light live Lochiel look Lord lyre mind morn mountain nature never night noble o'er once pain peace Pharisees pool of Siloam praise pray proud sacred Samaria Satan scene shade SHAKSPEARE sigh sight sleep smile soldiers song soul sound speak spirit stood sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne thyself tion truth twas unto vex'd virtue voice waters wave Waverly wild wings youth Zephon
Popular passages
Page 127 - 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.
Page 50 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine: But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Page 43 - O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
Page 42 - 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.
Page 42 - 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 honorable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honorable man.
Page 59 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Page 105 - For I can raise no money by vile means: By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their' vile trash By any indirection.
Page 148 - 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,
Page 53 - His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And while he heaven and earth defied Changed his hand, and checked his pride. He chose a 'mournful Muse Soft pity to infuse : He sung Darius great and good, By too severe a fate Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high estate, And weltering in his blood...
Page 58 - 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.