Lays of Ancient Rome, with Jory and the Armada

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Longmans, Green, 1887 - 191 Seiten

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Seite 176 - Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, oh pleasant land of France! And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrought thy walls annoy.
Seite 24 - Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the gate : 'To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late; And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his Gods...
Seite 8 - East and west and south and north, The messengers ride fast, And tower and town and cottage Have heard the trumpet's blast. Shame on the false Etruscan Who lingers in his home, When Porsena of Clusium Is on the march for Rome.
Seite 25 - In yon strait path a thousand May well be stopped by three: Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the bridge with me?" Then out spake Spurius Lartius, — A Ramnian proud was he: "Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee.
Seite 26 - Then none was for a party ; Then all were for the state ; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great ; Then lands were fairly portioned ; Then spoils were fairly sold : The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.
Seite 42 - It stands in the Comitium Plain for all folk to see; Horatius in his harness, Halting upon one knee : And underneath is written, In letters all of gold, How valiantly he kept the bridge In the brave days of old.
Seite 43 - When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit ; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit ; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close ; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows...
Seite 36 - Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread: And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay. But meanwhile axe and lever Have manfully been plied; And now the bridge hangs tottering Above the boiling tide. 'Come back, come back, Horatius!
Seite 34 - Right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain, Ere he wrenched out the steel. 'And see...
Seite 38 - Alone stood brave Horatius, But constant still in mind ; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, And the broad flood behind. " Down with him ! " cried false Sextus, With a smile on his pale face. "Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena,

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