The American First Class Book: Or, Exercises in Reading and Recitation : Selected Principally from Modern Authors of Great Britain and America, and Designed for the Use of the Highest Class, in Public and Private Schools

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Стр. 455 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Стр. 356 - Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 150 To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. For so, to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, Ay me...
Стр. 453 - Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen?
Стр. 469 - It must be so — Plato, thou reason'st well ! — Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought? why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful, thought ! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes...
Стр. 286 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, — The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war, — These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake. They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Стр. 202 - But if a man live many years, and rejoice in them all ; yet let him remember the days of darkness; for they shall be many.
Стр. 376 - And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father...
Стр. 355 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Стр. 257 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings, yet the dead are there ; And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep: the dead reign there alone.
Стр. 474 - O, woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made ; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou...

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