Ivanhoe: A Romance

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Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1895 - 397 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 435 - To temper the deceitful ray. And oh, when stoops on Judah's path In shade and storm the frequent night, Be THOU, long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning, and a shining light ! Our harps we left by Babel's streams, The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn ; No censer round our altar beams, And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.
الصفحة 519 - His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
الصفحة 149 - That is but fair," answered Prince John, "and it shall not be refused thee. If thou dost beat this braggart, Hubert, I will fill the bugle with silver pennies for thee.
الصفحة 169 - FAR in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew ; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well : Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
الصفحة 314 - With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself however, so as not to be visible from beneath. " What dost thou see, Rebecca ? " again demanded the wounded knight. " Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them.
الصفحة 85 - At this the challenger, with fierce defy, His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply: With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky. Their vizors closed, their lances in the rest, Or at the helmet pointed or the crest, They vanish from the barrier, speed the race, And spurring see decrease the middle space.
الصفحة 89 - The knights are dust, And their good swords are rust, Their souls are with the saints, we trust.'* Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.
الصفحة 109 - Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, Vex'd and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians.
الصفحة 331 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness, and humility : But when the blast of war...
الصفحة 315 - They have — they have — and they press the besieged hard upon the outer wall ; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and endeavor to ascend upon the shoulders of each other ; down go stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault. Great God ! hast thou given men thine own image that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!" "Think not of that," replied Ivanhoe; "this...

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