The Sixth Reader: Consisting of Extracts in Prose and Verse, with Biographical and Critical Notices of the Authors : for the Use of Advanced Classes in Public and Private Schools
Brewer and Tileston, 1865 - 436 σελίδες
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Abbotsford admirable arms Arth Athens battle beauty bless blood born bosom Boston breath called cataract character clouds dark dead death deep died duties earth eloquence England fall father fear feeling fire flowers following extract forever gaze genius gentle give glory grace Grace Darling grave hand Harvard College hast hear heard heart heaven Helvellyn hill honor hope Horace Smith hour Hubert human irreligion Ivanhoe king labor land light live Lochiel look Lord Massachusetts mighty mind moral mother Mount Vernon mountain nature never night noble o'er passed poems poet poetry religion river rock Samuel Adams scene Scotland sentiment shore sleep smile soul sound spirit sweet sword tears Tell thee thine Thirty Tyrants thought Thrasybulus thunder tion tone truth voice waves William Ellery Channing words writings Yale College youth
Σελίδα 379 - Lenore" : Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice ; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore: Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore ; 'Tis the wind and nothing more.
Σελίδα 364 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Σελίδα lxiv - What thou art, we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Σελίδα 417 - When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man.
Σελίδα 426 - The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself, and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured. On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war.
Σελίδα 407 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Σελίδα 378 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping. As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. " Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.
Σελίδα 287 - And this is in the night. — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight — A portion of the tempest and of thee! How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea, And the big rain comes dancing to the earth! And now again 'tis black — and now the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.
Σελίδα xlvi - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell...
Σελίδα 349 - Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain ! Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest hue, spread garlands at your feet? God!