Macleod's First text-book of elocution1877 |
Αναζήτηση στο βιβλίο
Αποτελέσματα 1 - 5 από τα 29.
Σελίδα 30
... cold ashes upbraid him ; but little he'll reck , if they let him sleep on in the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done , when the bell tolled the hour for retiring ; and we heard the distant and random ...
... cold ashes upbraid him ; but little he'll reck , if they let him sleep on in the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done , when the bell tolled the hour for retiring ; and we heard the distant and random ...
Σελίδα 32
... cold as the spray of the rock - beating surf . And there lay the rider , distorted and pale , with the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; and the tents were all silent , the banners alone , the lances unlifted , the trumpet ...
... cold as the spray of the rock - beating surf . And there lay the rider , distorted and pale , with the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; and the tents were all silent , the banners alone , the lances unlifted , the trumpet ...
Σελίδα 33
... ablaze ! " What hast thou done ! " the urchin cries ; " O piteous sight to see ! Cold is the night ; O wretched plight ! Nor house nor home have we ! " No sailor's blood hast thou , I wis . Text Book of Elocution . 33.
... ablaze ! " What hast thou done ! " the urchin cries ; " O piteous sight to see ! Cold is the night ; O wretched plight ! Nor house nor home have we ! " No sailor's blood hast thou , I wis . Text Book of Elocution . 33.
Σελίδα 41
... cold - a frozen thing - it dropped from his like lead , — He looked up to the face above - the face was of the dead ! A plume waved o'er that noble brow - the brow was fixed and white ! He met at length his father's eyes - but in them ...
... cold - a frozen thing - it dropped from his like lead , — He looked up to the face above - the face was of the dead ! A plume waved o'er that noble brow - the brow was fixed and white ! He met at length his father's eyes - but in them ...
Σελίδα 42
... cold lips a blessing speak - this earth is not my sire ! Give me back him for whom I fought , for whom my blood was shed , Thou canst not , —and a king ? his dust be mountains on thy head ! He loosed the rein - his slack hand fell ...
... cold lips a blessing speak - this earth is not my sire ! Give me back him for whom I fought , for whom my blood was shed , Thou canst not , —and a king ? his dust be mountains on thy head ! He loosed the rein - his slack hand fell ...
Συχνά εμφανιζόμενοι όροι και φράσεις
arms beautiful beneath black crows blood blow brave bright brow cheek child cried dark dead dear death Donatello door Elocution eyes face falchion Falstaff father fear feel fell Finlater's Floy frae friends Gelert grave green guilders hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Inchcape Rock kind permission King kissed lady Lapstone Lars Porsena light lips Lochinvar look lord Miss Ophelia morning mother never Nevermore Nick Bottom night o'er pale permission of Messrs Peter Quince play pray Prince H pupil Pyramus Quin quoth Quoth the Raven reading roar round sarpint silence smile song sorrow soul sound speak stood sweet sword tears tell thee thou thought tone Topsy twas umbrella unclean animal utterance voice waves wild wind word Yarrow young
Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα
Σελίδα 37 - 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.
Σελίδα 113 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Of me...
Σελίδα 115 - Be not too tame, neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor; suit the action to the word, the word to the action ; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature ; for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, — whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 't were, the mirror up to Nature ; to show virtue her own feature ; scorn, her own image ; and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure.
Σελίδα 74 - Cameron's gathering" rose, The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills Savage and shrill ! But with the breath which fills Their...
Σελίδα 75 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow ; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Σελίδα 111 - O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,* More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Σελίδα 75 - And the stormy winds do blow. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep...
Σελίδα 79 - Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee— by these angels he hath sent thee Respite— respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!
Σελίδα 59 - BREATHES there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand ! If such there breathe, go, mark him well...
Σελίδα 110 - Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the wat'ry floor; So sinks the daystar in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...