The New Century: 4th-5th Reader. Revised, Книга 5Rand, McNally & Company, 1902 |
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Сторінка 16
... leaves , when the mighty blasts of October Seize them , and whirl them aloft , and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean . Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful vil- lage of Grand - Pré . * * * * * * * In the Acadian land , on the ...
... leaves , when the mighty blasts of October Seize them , and whirl them aloft , and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean . Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful vil- lage of Grand - Pré . * * * * * * * In the Acadian land , on the ...
Сторінка 20
... leaves alternately played on his snow - white Hair , as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face of the fiddler Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from the embers . Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his ...
... leaves alternately played on his snow - white Hair , as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face of the fiddler Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from the embers . Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his ...
Сторінка 21
... leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest . Then came the guard from the ships , and marching proudly among them Entered the sacred portal . nant clangor With loud and disso- Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceil- ing and ...
... leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest . Then came the guard from the ships , and marching proudly among them Entered the sacred portal . nant clangor With loud and disso- Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceil- ing and ...
Сторінка 70
... leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load , Disguising oft the wretch of human kind , Studied in arts of hell , in wickedness refin'd ! O Scotia ! my dear , my native soil ! For whom my warmest wish to ...
... leaves the palace far behind ; What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load , Disguising oft the wretch of human kind , Studied in arts of hell , in wickedness refin'd ! O Scotia ! my dear , my native soil ! For whom my warmest wish to ...
Сторінка 81
... leaves the world to darkness and to me . Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight , And all the air a solemn stillness holds , Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight , And drowsy tinkling lulls the distant folds : Save ...
... leaves the world to darkness and to me . Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight , And all the air a solemn stillness holds , Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight , And drowsy tinkling lulls the distant folds : Save ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Absalom Acadian Antonio Bassanio beauty bells beneath breath Bregenz brother BUNKER HILL MONUMENT Bushrod Washington called Caxton Colard Mansion cottage dark dead death deep Don Quixote door Duchess of Burgundy Duke earth English eyes face father fear feel fire glory Gluck grave green hand happiness head hear heard heart heaven hill honor horse hour human JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER King labor land liberty light living look Lord Maid ment mind morning mountain nature never night noble Normans o'er passed peace Portia river Lee ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON round Scrooge seemed Shandon shore Shylock side silent smile snow soldier soul sound spirit stand stone stood sweet tears thee thine thing thou thought tion trees turned whole William Caxton wind wood words young
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 50 - The earth is the Lord's and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods. Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? and who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.
Сторінка 146 - You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.
Сторінка 69 - The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, The big ha' Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; .Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And ' Let us worship God !* he says, with solemn air.
Сторінка 159 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Сторінка 83 - Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave. Await alike the' inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Сторінка 47 - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave; Think ye he meant them for a slave?
Сторінка 298 - Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Сторінка 102 - Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently ! Around thee and above Deep is the air, and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass : methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity ! O dread and silent Mount ! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.
Сторінка 47 - And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now — The heroic bosom beats no more ! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?
Сторінка 84 - 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...