The book of recitations [ed.] by C.W. Smith |
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Page 3
... breast grappled fast , Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave ; Again , crashed together the keel and the mast , To be seen tossed aloft in the glee of the wave ! Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer , Grows the ...
... breast grappled fast , Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave ; Again , crashed together the keel and the mast , To be seen tossed aloft in the glee of the wave ! Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer , Grows the ...
Page 25
... breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopyla ! What ! silent still ? and silent all ? Ah ! no ; -the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall , And answer , ' Let one ...
... breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopyla ! What ! silent still ? and silent all ? Ah ! no ; -the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall , And answer , ' Let one ...
Page 26
... breasts must suckle slaves . Place me on Sunium's marbled steep , Where nothing , save the waves and I , May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ; There , swan - like , let me sing and die : A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine- Dash down yon ...
... breasts must suckle slaves . Place me on Sunium's marbled steep , Where nothing , save the waves and I , May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ; There , swan - like , let me sing and die : A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine- Dash down yon ...
Page 38
... breast . Now strike the golden lyre again ; A louder yet , and yet a louder strain . Break his bands of sleep asunder , And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder . Hark ! hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head , As awaked ...
... breast . Now strike the golden lyre again ; A louder yet , and yet a louder strain . Break his bands of sleep asunder , And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder . Hark ! hark ! the horrid sound Has raised up his head , As awaked ...
Page 47
... breast ! I reared thee as an eagle , To the chase thy steps I led , I bore thee on my battle - horse , I look upon thee- 66 -dead ! Lay down my warlike banners here , Never again to wave , And bury my red sword and spear , Chiefs in my ...
... breast ! I reared thee as an eagle , To the chase thy steps I led , I bore thee on my battle - horse , I look upon thee- 66 -dead ! Lay down my warlike banners here , Never again to wave , And bury my red sword and spear , Chiefs in my ...
Common terms and phrases
arms bear beauty beneath blood breast breath bright brother brow child cold cried dark dead death deep dread dream earth face fair fall father fear feel fell fire friends gave gazed give gold gone grave hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour king knew land leave light live lonely look Lord mind morn never night o'er once passed peace play poor pride proud replied rest rise rock roll rose round seemed seen side sigh silent sleep smile soon soul sound spirit stand stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought turned Twas voice waves wild wind young youth
Popular passages
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.