The elocutionist, a collection of pieces in prose and verse [by various authors, ed.] by J.S. Knowles (Google eBook)

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James Sheridan Knowles
1831
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Page 357 - ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with the English dead! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Then, imitate the action of the tiger;
Page 187 - tempests!—in all time— Calm or convulsed, in breeze or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving—boundless, endless, and sublime! The image of Eternity!—the throne Of the invisible!—Even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made! Each zone Obeys thee! Thou goest forth, dread! fathomless! alone! The
Page xviii - two principal parts, the one commencing, or introductory, and the other concluding. This will appear at once, if the reader will only construct a series upon the commencing part of any of the above examples. For instance, with regard to the very first— *' If to do, were as easy as to know what were good
Page 311 - Which way I fly is hell! myself am hell! Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven! Oh, then, at last relent! is there no place Left for repentance ? none for pardon left ? None left
Page 357 - Still, in thy right hand carry gentle peace, Corruption wins not more than honesty. To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
Page 366 - And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus, Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths! And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Ca?sar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise
Page 191 - One morn I miss'd him on the accustom'd 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,
Page 179 - So light to the saddle before her he sprung! " She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow!" quoth young Lochinvar. One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood
Page 132 - minds of your adversaries, to over-run them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American—as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay
Page 179 - mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see! So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? A Beth Gelert.

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