First (-Fourth) reading book, Book 4

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Page 308 - But everybody said," quoth he, "that 'twas a famous victory. My father lived at Blenheim then, yon little stream hard by; they burnt his dwelling to the ground, and he was forced to fly: so with his wife and child he fled, nor had he where to rest his head.
Page 266 - O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
Page 327 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade!
Page 227 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha s>ae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee ! Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?
Page 262 - So is the equal poise of this fell war. Here on this molehill will I sit me down. To whom God will, there be the victory ! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle, swearing both They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so ; For what is in this world but grief and woe ? O God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain...
Page 228 - By oppression's woes and pains ! By your sons in servile chains ! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free ! Lay the proud usurpers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!
Page 257 - This day is called the feast of Crispian. He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say "Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.
Page 263 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself...
Page 209 - Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. " Rome shall perish ! write that word In the blood that she has spilt...
Page 314 - O'er the deadly space between: 'Hearts of oak' ! our captains cried, when each gun From its adamantine lips Spread a death-shade round the ships, Like the hurricane eclipse Of the sun.

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