The Sixth Reader

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Cowperthwait & Company, 1872 - 408 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 250 - Then they rode back, but not, Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them...
الصفحة 98 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume, And the bridemaidens whispered, " 'Twere better, by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
الصفحة 253 - All this? ay, more: Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble.
الصفحة 98 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine : There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
الصفحة 111 - I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
الصفحة 358 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts — not so thou Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves
الصفحة 341 - When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
الصفحة 342 - The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
الصفحة 176 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
الصفحة 381 - Thy habitation from eternity! 0 dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought : entranced in prayer 1 worshipped the Invisible alone.

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