Select Readings from the Poets and Prose Writers of Every CountryJames Fleming Simpkin, Marshall & Company, 1866 - 352 pages |
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Page 134
... the parson can say ; It does well enough for the servants , And was for poor people design'd ; But , bless you , it's no good to her , For she is a woman of mind ! ANONYMOUS . ACT II . WILLIAM TELL . Emma . O , 134 SELECT READINGS .
... the parson can say ; It does well enough for the servants , And was for poor people design'd ; But , bless you , it's no good to her , For she is a woman of mind ! ANONYMOUS . ACT II . WILLIAM TELL . Emma . O , 134 SELECT READINGS .
Page 135
... Emma . Albert ! Alb . [ Descending . ] Bless thee ! Emma . Bless thee , Albert ! How early were you up ? Alb . Before the sun . Emma . Ay , strive with him . He never lies a - bed When it is time to rise . He ever is The constant'st ...
... Emma . Albert ! Alb . [ Descending . ] Bless thee ! Emma . Bless thee , Albert ! How early were you up ? Alb . Before the sun . Emma . Ay , strive with him . He never lies a - bed When it is time to rise . He ever is The constant'st ...
Page 136
... Emma . Well said , my boy ! Knelt you when you To - day ? got up Alb . I did ; and do so every day ! Emma . I know you do ! kneel , To whom you kneel ? And think you , when you Alb . To Him who made me , mother . Emma . And in whose ...
... Emma . Well said , my boy ! Knelt you when you To - day ? got up Alb . I did ; and do so every day ! Emma . I know you do ! kneel , To whom you kneel ? And think you , when you Alb . To Him who made me , mother . Emma . And in whose ...
Page 137
... Emma . I'm glad you husband what you learn . That is the lesson of content , my son ; He who finds which , has all - who misses - nothing ! Alb . Content is a good thing . Emma . A thing , the good Alone can profit by . Alb . My ...
... Emma . I'm glad you husband what you learn . That is the lesson of content , my son ; He who finds which , has all - who misses - nothing ! Alb . Content is a good thing . Emma . A thing , the good Alone can profit by . Alb . My ...
Page 138
... Emma . Not when you're a man ? Alb . I would not be a man to see that time : I'd rather die now that I am a child , Than live to be a man and not love you ! Emma . Live - live to be a man and love mother ! your [ They embrace — ALBERT ...
... Emma . Not when you're a man ? Alb . I would not be a man to see that time : I'd rather die now that I am a child , Than live to be a man and not love you ! Emma . Live - live to be a man and love mother ! your [ They embrace — ALBERT ...
Common terms and phrases
1ST CITIZEN 2ND CITIZEN ANTONY Balaam bells beneath bird blessed Bolus brave breath bright Brutus Cæsar CALIFORN CHARLES MACKAY child Clara Vere Cleon cottage cried dark dear death deep door dust to dust dying earth ELIZA COOK Emma eyes fair father fear fire flowers gentle glory grace grave grief hand hath head hear heard heart heaven honour John Brown king Labour lady Lars Porsena light live look Mark Antony MAUD MULLER mighty heart morning mother never Nevermore night o'er poor praise pray pride Queen Quoth Quoth the Raven reply round sing sleep smile song soul sound Speak gently spirit stood sweet tears tell thee There's thing thou thought toil Twas Vere de Vere vicar of Bray voice waves weary weep wife wild woman of mind word
Popular passages
Page 350 - When even at last the solemn hour shall come, And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers, Will rising wonders sing. I cannot go Where universal love not smiles around, Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns; From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression.
Page 171 - Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
Page 45 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Page 178 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood...
Page 22 - Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land ? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod ; They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God.
Page 177 - O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity ; these are gracious drops ; Kind souls ! What; weep you, when you but behold Our Ceesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
Page 74 - The world recedes: it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy Victory? O Death! where is thy Sting.
Page 350 - Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song, — where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, — 'tis naught to me : Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste, as in the city full ; And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.
Page 225 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. The merry Homes of England! Around their hearths by night, What gladsome looks of household love Meet in the ruddy light ! There woman's voice flows forth in song, Or childhood's tale is told, Or lips move tunefully along Some glorious page...
Page 295 - Wherein you dress'd yourself ? hath it slept since ? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time, Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour, As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem' st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting I dare not wait upon I would, Like the poor cat i