The book of recitations [ed.] by C.W. Smith |
À l'intérieur du livre
Résultats 1-5 sur 22
Page 2
... wave that for ever devours the wave , Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again ; And as with the swell of the far thunder - boom , Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom . And it bubbles and seethes , and it hisses and roars ...
... wave that for ever devours the wave , Casts roaringly up the Charybdis again ; And as with the swell of the far thunder - boom , Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom . And it bubbles and seethes , and it hisses and roars ...
Page 3
... wave ! Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer , Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer . And it bubbles and seethes , and it hisses and roars , As when fire is with water commixed and contending ; And the spray ...
... wave ! Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer , Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer . And it bubbles and seethes , and it hisses and roars , As when fire is with water commixed and contending ; And the spray ...
Page 5
... wave seized me once more , It seized me to save me , and dash to the shore . " On the youth gazed the monarch , and marvelled : quoth he , " Bold diver , the goblet I promised is thine ; And this ring I will give , a fresh guerdon to ...
... wave seized me once more , It seized me to save me , and dash to the shore . " On the youth gazed the monarch , and marvelled : quoth he , " Bold diver , the goblet I promised is thine ; And this ring I will give , a fresh guerdon to ...
Page 6
... wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore ! THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW . BY WILLIS . WOE for my vine - clad home ! That it should ever be so dark to me , With its bright threshold and its whispering tree ! That I should ever come , Fearing ...
... wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore ! THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW . BY WILLIS . WOE for my vine - clad home ! That it should ever be so dark to me , With its bright threshold and its whispering tree ! That I should ever come , Fearing ...
Page 30
... wave on high With freer pride than it waved now . Around he looked with changeless brow On many a torture nigh : The rack , the chain , the axe , the wheel , And , worst of all , his own red steel . 1 " In the reign of Otho III ...
... wave on high With freer pride than it waved now . Around he looked with changeless brow On many a torture nigh : The rack , the chain , the axe , the wheel , And , worst of all , his own red steel . 1 " In the reign of Otho III ...
Expressions et termes fréquents
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
Fréquemment cités
Page 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.
Page 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!
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.