The Speaker's Garland and Literary Bouquet: Combining 100 Choice Selections, Nos. 1, 2, 3 and 4. Four Vol. in One. Embracing Rare Poetical Gems, Fine Specimens Oratory ...
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arms beautiful bells beneath bless blood brave breath bright brow child close cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep door dream dying earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel feet fell fire flowers give gone grave hand head hear heard heart heaven hold honor hope hour keep land leave light lips live look Lord meet morning mother never night o'er once passed peace Pickwick poor rest Ring rose round seemed side silent sleep smile soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood sure sweet tears tell thee there's thing thou thought thousand turned Union voice watch waves wife wild young
Seite 9 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Seite 37 - Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged.
Seite 136 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Seite 105 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Caesar answered it.
Seite 94 - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
Seite 61 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide,- And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
Seite 128 - Came through the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, — All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
Seite 73 - Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, " 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.
Seite 61 - for Aix is in sight!' 'How they'll greet us!' — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
Seite 111 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make, With a bare bodkin?