Town's Fourth Reader: Containing a Selection of Lessons, Exclusively from American Authors ...

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Derby, 1845 - 288 Seiten
 

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Seite 213 - When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony and shroud and pall And breathless darkness and the narrow house...
Seite 242 - If we wish to be free ; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained — we must fight ! I repeat it, sir, — we must fight ! An appeal to arms, and to the God of hosts, is all that is left us ! They tell us, sir, that we are weak, —...
Seite 16 - Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? God! Let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Seite 215 - Shall one by one be gathered to thy side By those who in their turn shall follow them.
Seite 229 - The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied contrivances of speech shock and disgust men when their own lives and the fate of their wives, their children and their country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain and all elaborate oratory contemptible.
Seite 215 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Seite 147 - Oh, the grave ! the grave ! It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment ! From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb that he should ever have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him...
Seite 147 - But the grave of those we loved, what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up in long review the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheeded in the daily intercourse of intimacy; there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene; the bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities.
Seite 146 - No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection...
Seite 235 - With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half lighted by the moon; he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber.

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