Historical reader, Випуск 2

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Сторінка 128 - SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright ; The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die.
Сторінка 11 - WHEN the British warrior queen. Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods. Sage beneath the spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief ; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief.
Сторінка 126 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...
Сторінка 120 - God save him ; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home ; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeled The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Сторінка 126 - He was perfumed like a milliner ; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took't away again ; — Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff : — and still he smil'd and talk'd . And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by.
Сторінка 12 - Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name ; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame. Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. Regions Csesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway ; Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they.
Сторінка 151 - With that grim ferryman, which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud,— What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
Сторінка 66 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free ; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Сторінка 74 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.

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