North American First Class Reader: The Sixth Book of Tower's Seires for Common Schools, in which the Higher Principles of Elocution are Explained and Illustrated by Appropriate Exercises
D.Burgess & Company, 1853 - 426 pages
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North American First Class Reader: The Sixth Book of Tower's Seires for ...
David Bates Tower
Affichage du livre entier - 1853
North American First Class Reader: The Sixth of Tower's Series for Common ...
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admiration affections answer appear arms beauty blessed breath Brutus clouds darkness death deep earth expression face fall father fear feeling fire follow force genius give glory hand happy head hear heard heart heaven honor hope hour human immortal kind knowledge land learned leave light live look lord means memory mind moral mountain nature never night o'er object observation once pass passion pleasure poor present principles reason rest round scene seemed seen sense sentiment silent smile soul sound speak spirit stand sweet taste tears tell thee thing thou thought tion true truth turn uncle utterance virtue voice waters whole wish wonder young
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.
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. I only speak right on: I tell you that which you yourselves do know, Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me.
Page 391 - 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.
Page 127 - E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of the unhonored dead Dost in these lines their artless tale relate, If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate...
Page 144 - Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all. And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Page 142 - How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene! How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topped the neighboring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made!
Page 393 - If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms: Never, never, never...
Page 400 - They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with so formidable an adversary; but when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ! Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction?
Page 233 - I an itching palm ? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Bru, The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cas. Chastisement ! Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember ! Did not great Julius bleed for justice...
Page 321 - One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near ; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, 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,