The advanced lesson book, by E.T. Stevens and C. Hole

Εξώφυλλο
Edward Thomas Stevens
1866
 

Τι λένε οι χρήστες - Σύνταξη κριτικής

Δεν εντοπίσαμε κριτικές στις συνήθεις τοποθεσίες.

Περιεχόμενα

Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων

Συχνά εμφανιζόμενοι όροι και φράσεις

Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα

Σελίδα 323 - 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.
Σελίδα 135 - As awaked from the dead, And amazed he stares around. Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise ! See the snakes that they rear, How they hiss in their hair, And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
Σελίδα 133 - But now my task is smoothly done: I can fly, or I can run, Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the moon.
Σελίδα 97 - Round-hoofd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide : Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Σελίδα 250 - At church with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
Σελίδα 247 - No more I weep. They do not sleep : On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit ; they linger yet, Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Σελίδα 99 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Σελίδα 323 - Thou's met me in an evil hour ; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem : To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonnie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie lark, companion meet, Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet ! Wi' speckled breast, When upward-springing, blithe, to greet The purpling east.
Σελίδα 249 - 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...
Σελίδα 248 - Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. The swarm, that in thy noontide beam were born? Gone to salute the rising morn. Pair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hushed in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

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