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answer Antonio appear arms Bassanio bear beautiful beneath birds blood Boling bond breath bright close clouds cold comes court dark dead death deep doth duke early earth fair fall fear fields flowers gave gentle give green half hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hour king land leaves light live look Lord morning mountain nest never night o'er once pass plain poet Portia rest Rich ring rise rock Roderick rose round shower Shylock side sight sing song soon soul sound spring stand stay stood strain stream summer sweet sword tell thee thing thou thought thousand turn voice waves wild wind wing winter woods young
Сторінка 82 - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow.
Сторінка 139 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistening with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild...
Сторінка 73 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Сторінка 111 - When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy ; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much To mitigate the justice of thy plea; Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. Shylock. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
Сторінка 102 - YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due: For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Сторінка 103 - Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Сторінка 100 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around : The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Сторінка 95 - Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ; Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize. More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain...
Сторінка 158 - When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels. Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round!