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

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Eldredge & Brother, 1882 - 395 Seiten
 

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Seite 255 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Seite 259 - Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Seite 262 - When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood!
Seite 46 - Who goeth a warfare any time at his own charges? who planteth a vineyard, and eateth not of the fruit thereof? or who feedeth a flock, and eateth not of the milk of the flock?
Seite 228 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble, Honor but an empty bubble, Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think it worth enjoying; Lovely Thais sits beside thee. Take the good the gods provide thee, The many rend the skies with loud applause; So Love was crowned, but Music won the cause.
Seite 179 - WHEN Israel went out of Egypt, The house of Jacob from a people of strange language ; Judah was his sanctuary, And Israel his dominion. The sea saw it, and fled : Jordan was driven back. The mountains skipped like rams, And the little hills like lambs.
Seite 100 - A wise son maketh a glad father: but a foolish son is the heaviness of his mother.
Seite 254 - AT the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, •**• And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove ; When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove...
Seite 258 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread — Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, Would that its tone could reach the rich ! She sang this "Song of the Shirt.
Seite 183 - Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect ? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that condemneth ? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us.

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