The New Speaker. With an Essay on ElocutionSaunders, Otley, and Company, 1861 - 395 pages |
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Page 93
... Father feedeth them . ( Restrictive . ) Let there be no noise made , my gentle friends , Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit . ( Exceptive . ) Cast thy bread upon the waters ; thou shalt find THE ...
... Father feedeth them . ( Restrictive . ) Let there be no noise made , my gentle friends , Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my weary spirit . ( Exceptive . ) Cast thy bread upon the waters ; thou shalt find THE ...
Page 94
... father . Hamlet . — The king ! my father ! IV . Uncertainty . Something of a doubtful mist hangs over these Highland traditions . This cottage is a wretched place , Ella . I think we might find something better for you . V. Supplication ...
... father . Hamlet . — The king ! my father ! IV . Uncertainty . Something of a doubtful mist hangs over these Highland traditions . This cottage is a wretched place , Ella . I think we might find something better for you . V. Supplication ...
Page 135
... brave Horatius , The Captain of the Gate : " To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late . And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds , • For the ashes of his fathers And the temples THE NEW SPEAKER . 135.
... brave Horatius , The Captain of the Gate : " To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late . And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds , • For the ashes of his fathers And the temples THE NEW SPEAKER . 135.
Page 136
John Connery. • For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his Gods ? " And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest , And for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast , And for the holy maidens Who feed the eternal flame ...
John Connery. • For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his Gods ? " And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest , And for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast , And for the holy maidens Who feed the eternal flame ...
Page 137
... Fathers grind the low , As we wax hot in faction , In battle we wax cold , Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old . Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs , The Consul was the foremost ...
... Fathers grind the low , As we wax hot in faction , In battle we wax cold , Wherefore men fight not as they fought In the brave days of old . Now while the Three were tightening Their harness on their backs , The Consul was the foremost ...
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Common terms and phrases
accent Angel arms Arnald articulation Balta beauty blood body brave breast breath brow BYRON Cæsar Cicero circumflex Clusium consonants dark death defects delivery Demosthenes diphthongal dread earth Elocution English language Erin go Bragh eyes falling inflection father feel fingers foot genius gesture glory grace Greece ground Gryba hand happy hath head heard heart heaven honour human language Lars Porsena letter light lips Lord Lord Byron LORD CHATHAM loud Macedon mind nature never night o'er orator Otley passion pause pleasure position pronounced pronunciation Quintilian rising inflection Samian wine Scythians sense sentence Shakspere soft soul sound speaker speaking spirit Steel gauntlet stood sublime sweet sword syllabic emphasis syllable tears thee things thou thought tion tone tongue utterance voice vols vowel wave wild words wound youth
Popular passages
Page 250 - 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.
Page 179 - I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky ; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air...
Page 229 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss. Though winning near the goal — yet do not grieve: She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss; For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love!
Page 358 - Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony : who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall not ? With this I depart ; that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
Page 357 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; and be silent that you may hear : believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Page 237 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Page 135 - But the Consul's brow was sad, And the Consul's speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall, And darkly at the foe. " Their van will be upon us Before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge. What hope to save the town...
Page 238 - Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they { Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts : — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Page 216 - Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, ' Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole of cypress lawn Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come; but keep thy wonted state, With even step, and musing gait, And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes...
Page 252 - Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush ? — Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae...