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North American First Class Reader: The Sixth Book of Tower's Seires for ...
David Bates Tower
No preview available - 2015
admiration arms art thou beauty blessed blood bosom breath Brutus Caesar Cassius clouds DANIEL BURGESS darkness dead death deep delight divine earth eccentric orbits eternal fame fancy father fear feeling Felicia Hemans friends genius give glory grave hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven honor hope hour human immortal John Locke king knowledge labor land learned light live Lochinvar look lord mind moral Mount Ararat mountain nature never night o'er observation once passion pleasure poet poetry poor praise principles quadrupeds reader Rob Roy Samian wine scene semitone sentiment Shylock silent sleep Slyder Downehylle smile solemn soul sound speak spirit sweet Syphax taste tears tell thee thing thou thought tion trembling truth turn twas uncle Toby utterance virtue voice waves wind wonder words youth
Page 267 - If you have tears prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii : Look, in this place ran Cassius...
Page 231 - I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself. I was born free as Caesar ; so were you : We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter's cold as well as he : For once, upon a raw and gusty day, The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me ' Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point ? ' Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow : so indeed he did.
Page 32 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Page 267 - Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what ! weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
Page 268 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is, But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood...
Page 38 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons' difference : as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say, This is no flattery : these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Page 127 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Page 142 - THE DESERTED VILLAGE. SWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed: Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene!
Page 51 - 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...
Page 267 - 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.