The book of recitations [ed.] by C.W. Smith |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 100
Strana 1
... eyes ; They looked on the dismal and savage Profound , And the peril chilled back every thought of the prize . And thrice spoke the monarch- " The cup to win , Is there never a wight who will venture in ? " B And all as before heard in ...
... eyes ; They looked on the dismal and savage Profound , And the peril chilled back every thought of the prize . And thrice spoke the monarch- " The cup to win , Is there never a wight who will venture in ? " B And all as before heard in ...
Strana 4
... eye A rock jutting out from the grave that interred me ; I sprung there , I clung there , and death passed me by . And , lo ! where the goblet gleamed through the abyss , By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless . " Below , at the ...
... eye A rock jutting out from the grave that interred me ; I sprung there , I clung there , and death passed me by . And , lo ! where the goblet gleamed through the abyss , By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless . " Below , at the ...
Strana 6
... eyes ; He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face- It pales - at the feet of her father she lies ! How priceless the guerdon ! a moment- -a breath . And headlong he plunges to life and to death ! They hear the loud surges sweep back ...
... eyes ; He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face- It pales - at the feet of her father she lies ! How priceless the guerdon ! a moment- -a breath . And headlong he plunges to life and to death ! They hear the loud surges sweep back ...
Strana 12
... sorrow Was heard from either bank ; But friends and foes in dumb surprise , With parted lips and straining eyes , Stood gazing where he sank ; 4 Etruscan for " mighty chief . " And when above the surges They saw his crest appear 12 POETIC.
... sorrow Was heard from either bank ; But friends and foes in dumb surprise , With parted lips and straining eyes , Stood gazing where he sank ; 4 Etruscan for " mighty chief . " And when above the surges They saw his crest appear 12 POETIC.
Strana 20
... eye to the braes of Strathfillan : " Go , Malcolm , to sleep , let the clans be dismissed ; The Campbells this night for Macgregor must rest . ” - - " Macgregor , Macgregor , our scouts have been flying , Three days , round the hills of ...
... eye to the braes of Strathfillan : " Go , Malcolm , to sleep , let the clans be dismissed ; The Campbells this night for Macgregor must rest . ” - - " Macgregor , Macgregor , our scouts have been flying , Three days , round the hills of ...
Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
Absalom arms battle beauty beneath blood bosom bowed brave breast breath bright brother brow Cæsar clouds cold cried customed hill dark dead death deep dread dream earth Eleonora di Toledo EUGENE ARAM fair falchion father fear fell gazed Gelert gold grave hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hour Inchcape Rock Jaspar Julius Cæsar king knew Lars Porsena light lips live Lochiel lonely look Lord William loud Macgregor moon morn never Nevermore night numbers o'er once pale pride proud Quoth Quoth the Raven rock rose round Samian wine sate shone shore shout sigh silent slave sleep smile song soul Souliotes sound spake spirit steed stood stream strong sweet sword tears Thaïs thee thine thou thought Twas victorious bands voice wave weary weep wild wind young youth
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 211 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Strana 130 - Be that word our sign of parting, bird, or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting: "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! Quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!
Strana 275 - O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Strana 19 - Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Strana 282 - 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...
Strana 260 - Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
Strana 63 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Strana 278 - tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.
Strana 274 - This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Strana 210 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.