The National PreceptorGoodwin, 1836 - 336 Seiten |
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Seite ix
... happy , Cicero . 34 17. Beauty and Deformity , 18. The Discontented Pendulum , 20. Battle of Bunker's Hill , 19. Battle of Lexington , 21. Application , 22. The Shortness of Life , 23. The Faithful Greyhound , 24. Mortality , 25 ...
... happy , Cicero . 34 17. Beauty and Deformity , 18. The Discontented Pendulum , 20. Battle of Bunker's Hill , 19. Battle of Lexington , 21. Application , 22. The Shortness of Life , 23. The Faithful Greyhound , 24. Mortality , 25 ...
Seite 13
... happy looks . 3. The stranger laughed . " Aye , " said the man , in a humor- ous tone , " I wish to make the dog take notice of your civility ; it is so uncommon for a well - dressed person on horseback , to lift his hat or cap to a ...
... happy looks . 3. The stranger laughed . " Aye , " said the man , in a humor- ous tone , " I wish to make the dog take notice of your civility ; it is so uncommon for a well - dressed person on horseback , to lift his hat or cap to a ...
Seite 18
... happy . Follow me to the city . Thou shalt no longer dwell in a miserable cottage , but inhabit a superb palace , surrounded with lofty columns of marble . Thou shalt drink high - flavored wines out of golden goblets , and eat the most ...
... happy . Follow me to the city . Thou shalt no longer dwell in a miserable cottage , but inhabit a superb palace , surrounded with lofty columns of marble . Thou shalt drink high - flavored wines out of golden goblets , and eat the most ...
Seite 34
... happy.- CICERO . 1. DIONYSIUS , * the tyrant of Sicily , † was far from being happy , though he possessed great riches , and all the pleasures which wealth and power could procure . Damocles , one of his flatterers , deceived by those ...
... happy.- CICERO . 1. DIONYSIUS , * the tyrant of Sicily , † was far from being happy , though he possessed great riches , and all the pleasures which wealth and power could procure . Damocles , one of his flatterers , deceived by those ...
Seite 59
... happy , if it were possible , to be indulged with a professional death ; but the indulgence of being shot rather than hanged was Nathaniel Green , a Major - General in the army of the United States , during the war of the Revolution ...
... happy , if it were possible , to be indulged with a professional death ; but the indulgence of being shot rather than hanged was Nathaniel Green , a Major - General in the army of the United States , during the war of the Revolution ...
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army battle battle of Zama beauty behold black crows blood born Bowl brave Brutus called Capt Carthaginians Cesar Christmas Evans Colter command Commonwealth of England cried dark dead death dervis died earth endeavored enemy eyes father fear fire Gelert give glory grave ground hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill honor Jerusalem Jews Jugurtha king LESSON live look lord lost master Mercy mind miserable morning mountain never night o'er Ortogrul passed passion pleasure Pompey poor pray Pronounced Pythias replied returned rich Roman Rome Romulus and Remus Sir Rob slave sleep smile Socrates soldiers soul spirit sweet tears tell temple thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought thousand Tis green Titus truth turned twas uncle Toby virtue voice wise words young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 168 - Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death? 12. Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire ; Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : 13. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample
Seite 305 - Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii* Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through See what a rent the envious Casca made Through this the well beloved Brutus stabb'd; And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Cesar follow'd it!
Seite 197 - 1. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the ramparts we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our Hero was buried. 2. -We buried him darkly ; at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moon-beams
Seite 195 - 7. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave Munich,! all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry ! 8. Few, few shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their winding sheet, And every turf beneath their feet, Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. -"■
Seite 295 - 3. For within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his court: and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit,—
Seite 312 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean,—roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin—his control Stops with the shore;—upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
Seite 292 - 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! 9. Three millions of people armed in the holy cause of
Seite 302 - Brutus and Cesar !—What should be in that Cesar ? Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? Write them together; yours is as fair a name: Sound them ; it doth become the mouth as well: Weigh them ; it is as heavy: conjure with 'em; Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cesar.
Seite 302 - He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake ; 'tis true; this god did shake; His coward lips did from their color fly; And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, Did lose its lustre; I did hear him groan,
Seite 313 - And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him shivering, in thy playful spray, And howling to his gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, Then dashest him again to