The English elocutionist, a collection of the finest passages of poetry and eloquence, by C. Hartley1872 |
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Página iv
... feeling , revives the relish of simple pleasures , keeps unquenched the enthusiasm which warmed the spring - time of our being , refines youthful love , strengthens our interests in human nature by vivid de- lineations of its tenderest ...
... feeling , revives the relish of simple pleasures , keeps unquenched the enthusiasm which warmed the spring - time of our being , refines youthful love , strengthens our interests in human nature by vivid de- lineations of its tenderest ...
Página 2
... feel at least a patriot's shame , Even as I sing , suffuse my face ; For what is left a poet here ? For Greeks a blush - for Greece a tear . Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush ? -Our fathers bled . Earth ! render ...
... feel at least a patriot's shame , Even as I sing , suffuse my face ; For what is left a poet here ? For Greeks a blush - for Greece a tear . Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush ? -Our fathers bled . Earth ! render ...
Página 7
... Feeling past away . Clime of the unforgotten brave ! Whose land from plain to mountain - cave Was Freedom's home , or Glory's grave ! Shrine of the mighty ! can it be That this is all remains of thee ? Approach , thou craven crouching ...
... Feeling past away . Clime of the unforgotten brave ! Whose land from plain to mountain - cave Was Freedom's home , or Glory's grave ! Shrine of the mighty ! can it be That this is all remains of thee ? Approach , thou craven crouching ...
Página 15
... feel The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel , Art thou the King ? " the passion of his woe Burst from him in resistless overflow , And , lifting high his forehead , he would fling The haughty answer back , “ I am , I am the King ...
... feel The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel , Art thou the King ? " the passion of his woe Burst from him in resistless overflow , And , lifting high his forehead , he would fling The haughty answer back , “ I am , I am the King ...
Página 56
... feel its flitting pulse , and weep , Yet not behold its face ! Darkness in chieftain's hall ; Darkness in peasant's cot ; While Freedom , under that shadowy pall , Sat mourning o'er her lot . Oh , the fireside's peace we well may prize ...
... feel its flitting pulse , and weep , Yet not behold its face ! Darkness in chieftain's hall ; Darkness in peasant's cot ; While Freedom , under that shadowy pall , Sat mourning o'er her lot . Oh , the fireside's peace we well may prize ...
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The English Elocutionist, a Collection of the Finest Passages of Poetry and ... Charles Hartley Sin vista previa disponible - 2023 |
The English Elocutionist, a Collection of the Finest Passages of Poetry and ... Charles Hartley Sin vista previa disponible - 2023 |
The English Elocutionist, a Collection of the Finest Passages of Poetry and ... Charles Hartley Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Términos y frases comunes
12 stamps angels Annabel Lee battle beautiful bells bird blood bosom brave breast breath brow Brutus Cæsar Caius Verres cloth gilt cried Crown 8vo dark dead death deep doth dream earth Erin go bragh eyes fair father fear FELICIA HEMANS free for 42 Garden glory grave GROOMBRIDGE & SONS hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry of Navarre honour hour Illustrated Inchcape Rock JULIUS CÆSAR King land light live Lochinvar look LORD BYRON Lords ne'er never Nevermore night numbers o'er once PATERNOSTER ROW post free prayer quoth Roman rose round Samian wine SARA WOOD Scythians Sea Kale SHAKESPEARE'S slave sleep smile song soul sound spirit Stories sweet sword tears tell thee thou thought twas voice Warren Hastings waves weep wild wind word young
Pasajes populares
Página 23 - SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love. A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
Página 62 - 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.
Página 214 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus ; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Página 173 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Página 47 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell...
Página 52 - O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Página 63 - The applause of listening senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind...
Página 95 - 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...
Página 37 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth...
Página 207 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master...