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" And terror on my aching sight; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a dullness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear Thy voice — my own affrights me with... "
The British Drama: pt. 1-2. Tragedies - Сторінка 279
1804
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National Series of Selections for Reading; Adapted to the Standing of ..., Том 4

Richard Green Parker - 1852 - 380 стор.
...— finer than any one in Shakspeare. And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me...return ; the horror of this place And silence will increase your melancholy. Aim.. It may my fears, but cannot add to that. No, I will on ; show me Anselmo's...
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Johnson's Lives of the British poets completed by W. Hazlitt, Том 3

Samuel Johnson - 1854 - 344 стор.
...terror on my aching sight ; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a dullness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me...Thy voice— my own affrights me with its echoes." He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet ; he feels what he remembers to have...
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Lives of the most eminent English poets, with critical observations ..., Том 2

Samuel Johnson - 1854 - 484 стор.
...terror on my aching sight ; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillncss to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me...Thy voice — my own affrights me with its echoes." He who reads these lines enjoys for a moment the powers of a poet ; he feels what he remembers to have...
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Art: its constitution and capacities, popularly considered, being the 1st of ...

Edward Young - 1854 - 116 стор.
...terror on my aching sight; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold. And shoot a chilness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me...voice ; Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear Thy voice—my own affrights me with its echoes. Our last topic is, i®. Cfje foeal, or poetfral element....
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The Poetical Works of Charles Churchill: With Copious Notes and a ..., Том 1

Charles Churchill, William Tooke - 1854 - 386 стор.
...terror on my aching sight; the tombs And monnmental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice, Nay, qnickly speak to me, and let me hear Thy voice — my own affrights me with its echoes." s22 A part...
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Universal Masonic Library, Том 7

Robert Macoy - 1855 - 442 стор.
...to dio within me. And eurth-born cares Lessen their eager grasu. Whore am 1 1 Give me thy hand, imd let me hear thy voice. Nay quickly speak to me, and let me hear thy voice : Mine own affnghts me with its very cohos." To build up man, then, worthy to become the temple, the...
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Chronicles of Wolfert's Roost and Other Papers

Washington Irving - 1855 - 402 стор.
...words of the poet: — — tl The tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chitlncss to my trembling heart! Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; Nay, speak — and let me hear thy voice; Mine own affrights me with its echoes." There wanted nothing but...
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Orthophony, Or Vocal Culture: A Manual of Elementary Exercises for the ...

Francis Thayer Russell - 1882 - 330 стор.
...terror on my aching sight. The tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me...thy voice. Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear — My own affrights me with its echoes. 3. Fear. ("Whispering Voice: "Guttural Quality.") I.'AUBAH,...
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Orthophony: Or, Vocal Culture. A Manual of Elementary Exercises for the ...

William Russell - 1882 - 332 стор.
...terror on my aching sight. The tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me...thy voice. Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear — My own affrights me with its echoes. . 3. Fear. (Whispering Voice: "Guttural Quality.") CALIRAN,...
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Irving's Works: Wolfert's roost

Washington Irving - 1865 - 488 стор.
...the words of the poet : — "The tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a dullness to my trembling heart ! Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice ; Nay, speak — and let me hear thy voice ; Mine own aflrights me with its echoes." There wanted nothing...
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