The Elements of Rhetoric and Composition: A Text-book for Schools and Colleges

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Sheldon, 1878 - 276 Seiten
 

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Seite 147 - At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
Seite 148 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! 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 80 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee...
Seite 155 - ... to dive into the depths of dungeons; to plunge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain ; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt ; to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of all men in all countries.
Seite 147 - The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
Seite 147 - Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place. Unpractised he to fawn or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour: Far other aims his heart had learned to prize— More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
Seite 150 - This hour's work Will breed proscriptions ! Look to your hearths, my Lords ! For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ! Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn : Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing Thrones ; Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night, And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave.
Seite 156 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Seite 146 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Seite 76 - Eternal Hope ! when yonder spheres sublime Pealed their first notes to sound the march of Time, Thy joyous youth began — but not to fade. — When all the sister planets have...

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