The Sixth ReaderCowperthwait & Company, 1872 - 408 |
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Strona 2
... trips by with side - long look , Steadying the little basket on her head ; And where a plank bridges the narrow brook , She stops to see her fair form shadowed . Page 276 . THE SIXTH READER BY LEWIS B. MONROE , DEAN OF.
... trips by with side - long look , Steadying the little basket on her head ; And where a plank bridges the narrow brook , She stops to see her fair form shadowed . Page 276 . THE SIXTH READER BY LEWIS B. MONROE , DEAN OF.
Strona 19
... fair maids : Hò ! gunners , fire a loud salùte - hò ! gallants , draw your blades . 2. Awake , Sir King , the gates unspàr ! Rise up , and ride both fast and fàr ! The sea flows over bolt and bàr ! 3. Ye crags and peaks , I'm with you ...
... fair maids : Hò ! gunners , fire a loud salùte - hò ! gallants , draw your blades . 2. Awake , Sir King , the gates unspàr ! Rise up , and ride both fast and fàr ! The sea flows over bolt and bàr ! 3. Ye crags and peaks , I'm with you ...
Strona 29
... fair làdy he swung , So light to the saddle before her he sprung . 2. Under his spurning feet , the road , Like an arrowy Alpine rìver , flowed , And the landscape sped away behind , Like an ocean flying before the wìnd . 3. Great rats ...
... fair làdy he swung , So light to the saddle before her he sprung . 2. Under his spurning feet , the road , Like an arrowy Alpine rìver , flowed , And the landscape sped away behind , Like an ocean flying before the wìnd . 3. Great rats ...
Strona 42
... fair young girl , with light and delicate limbs , And wavy tresses , gushing from the cap With which the Roman master crowned his slave When he took off the gýves . A bearded màn , Armed to the teeth , art thou ; one mailed hand Grasps ...
... fair young girl , with light and delicate limbs , And wavy tresses , gushing from the cap With which the Roman master crowned his slave When he took off the gýves . A bearded màn , Armed to the teeth , art thou ; one mailed hand Grasps ...
Strona 57
... Fair Sir , you spit on me on Wednesday last ; You spùrned me sùch a day ; another time You called me dòg ; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much môneys ? " 3. Farewell , a long farewell , to all my greatness ! This is the ...
... Fair Sir , you spit on me on Wednesday last ; You spùrned me sùch a day ; another time You called me dòg ; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much môneys ? " 3. Farewell , a long farewell , to all my greatness ! This is the ...
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Popularne fragmenty
Strona 57 - Shylock, we would have moneys : ' you say so ; You, that did void your rheum upon my beard And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. What should I say to you ? Should I not say ' Hath a dog money ? is it possible A cur can lend three thousand ducats...
Strona 91 - Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.
Strona 114 - I WIND about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling...
Strona 360 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld thou rollest now.
Strona 360 - The armaments which thunder-strike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Strona 343 - When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Strona 377 - To the very moment that he bade me tell it : Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field ; Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly breach...
Strona 344 - The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Strona 255 - All this? ay, more: Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble.
Strona 49 - The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; Bun replied, 'You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you...