The Grammar School Reader: Containing the Essential Principles of Elocution and a Series of Exercises in Reading : Designed for Classes in Grammar School (Google eBook)

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Sanborn & Carter, 1850 - Readers - 360 pages
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Page 165 - Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Page 341 - Her soldier, closing with the foe, Gives for thy sake a deadlier blow; His plighted maiden, when she fears For him, the Joy of her young years, Thinks of thy fate and checks her tears. And she, the mother of thy boys. Though in her eye and faded cheek Is read the grief she will not speak, The memory of her buried Joys, And even she who gave thee birth, Will by their pilgrim-circled hearth Talk of thy doom without a sigh: For thou art freedom's now and fame's, One of the few, the immortal names, That...
Page 168 - Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to Misery all he had, a tear, He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
Page 339 - Strike till the last armed foe expires; Strike for your altars and your fires; Strike for the green graves of your sires, God and your native land!
Page 167 - customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 64 - Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image.
Page 165 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Page 338 - An hour passed on the Turk awoke : That bright dream was his last ; . He woke to hear his sentries shriek, " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek...
Page 250 - The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
Page 340 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word ; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Come, when his task of fame is wrought Come, with her laurel-leaf...

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