The District School Reader, Or, Exercises in Reading and Speaking: Designed for the Highest Class in Public and Private SchoolsThomas Cowperthwait & Company, 1845 - 484 ページ |
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... Spring .. 17. Voyage to Europe .. 18. Same Subject , concluded . 19. North American Indians .. 20. Pocahontas . 21. Plea for the Red Man . Page . 11 14 N. E. MAGAZINE . 18 20 .... Dr . Johnson . 23 Bonhote . 25 Bigland . 27 ...
... Spring .. 17. Voyage to Europe .. 18. Same Subject , concluded . 19. North American Indians .. 20. Pocahontas . 21. Plea for the Red Man . Page . 11 14 N. E. MAGAZINE . 18 20 .... Dr . Johnson . 23 Bonhote . 25 Bigland . 27 ...
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... spring that setteth the wheels of action on going . It is the profession and trade of many , it is the practice of all men , to be in a manner continually talking . Whatever great or small is done in the court or in the hall , in the ...
... spring that setteth the wheels of action on going . It is the profession and trade of many , it is the practice of all men , to be in a manner continually talking . Whatever great or small is done in the court or in the hall , in the ...
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... spring from the ground . These , of course , are the most brilliant and gifted talkers : these are they " who set tables in a roar ; who charm and fascinate the listening ear ; who condense into minutes the pleasures of hours , and yet ...
... spring from the ground . These , of course , are the most brilliant and gifted talkers : these are they " who set tables in a roar ; who charm and fascinate the listening ear ; who condense into minutes the pleasures of hours , and yet ...
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... spring ! Scarce hath the earth put on her robe of green , And the glad breeze swept o'er the vernal scene , Ere thou dost sweetly sing . How many years thy song Hath poured its music on 18 DISTRICT SCHOOL READER . To a Robin N E MAGAZINE.
... spring ! Scarce hath the earth put on her robe of green , And the glad breeze swept o'er the vernal scene , Ere thou dost sweetly sing . How many years thy song Hath poured its music on 18 DISTRICT SCHOOL READER . To a Robin N E MAGAZINE.
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... Spring's feathered pioneer . I love to hear thee sing , When summer groves are glistening in the dew , And see , in morning's mingling gray and blue , Thy brown and glossy wing . Thou callest to thy mate To perch upon thy favorite ...
... Spring's feathered pioneer . I love to hear thee sing , When summer groves are glistening in the dew , And see , in morning's mingling gray and blue , Thy brown and glossy wing . Thou callest to thy mate To perch upon thy favorite ...
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多く使われている語句
Arth Beadsman beauty blessed blue damsel boats bosom breath bright burning cataracts charm clouds dark death deep delight earth eloquent eternal EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION fall father fear feel fire flowers friends glorious glory glow grave Greece green hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human human voice INFLECTIONS JOSEPH STORY labor land LESSON light live Lochiel look mind misty range morning Moss-side mountains nature never night o'er ocean pass pause peace pleasure Pocahontas prayer rapture rising rock Rockall round Sabbath Samian wine scene seemed Sentiment ship shore sight silent sleep smile song soul sound spirit spring stream sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought throne thundering bands tion tree turn valley voice wandering WASHINGTON IRVING waves wild wind words youth
人気のある引用
330 ページ - And Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? 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.
331 ページ - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle. I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent ; That day he overcame the Nervii. — Look ! in this place, ran Cassius...
120 ページ - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse: Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires
158 ページ - Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
179 ページ - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
396 ページ - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr...
156 ページ - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form ! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge ! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! 0 dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in...
331 ページ - 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.
121 ページ - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
260 ページ - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?