The Speaker's Garland and Literary Bouquet: Combining 100 Choice Selections, Nos. 1, 2, 3 and 4. Four Vol. in One. Embracing Rare Poetical Gems, Fine Specimens Oratory ...P. Garrett & Company, 1876 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 89
Page 14
... heard the plaintive cry Of that poor soldier , as he lay in prison , doom'd to die ! ' Twas morning . - On a tented field , and through the heated haze , Flash'd back , from lines of burnish'd arms , the sun's effulgent blaze ; While ...
... heard the plaintive cry Of that poor soldier , as he lay in prison , doom'd to die ! ' Twas morning . - On a tented field , and through the heated haze , Flash'd back , from lines of burnish'd arms , the sun's effulgent blaze ; While ...
Page 15
... heard the noise of steeds and wheels ap- proach , - An 1 , rolling through a cloud of dust , appear'd a stately coach . On , past the guards , and through the field , its rapid course was bent , Till , halting , ' mid the lines was seen ...
... heard the noise of steeds and wheels ap- proach , - An 1 , rolling through a cloud of dust , appear'd a stately coach . On , past the guards , and through the field , its rapid course was bent , Till , halting , ' mid the lines was seen ...
Page 18
... heard you not the noise of guns ? And there , and there again ? ' Tis some uneasy iceberg's roar , As he turns in the frozen main . Hurra ! hurra ! the Esquimaux Across the ice - fields steal : God give them grace for their charity ! Ye ...
... heard you not the noise of guns ? And there , and there again ? ' Tis some uneasy iceberg's roar , As he turns in the frozen main . Hurra ! hurra ! the Esquimaux Across the ice - fields steal : God give them grace for their charity ! Ye ...
Page 28
... heard . And then began the sailors ' jests : " What thing is that , I say ? " " A long - shore meeting - house adrift Is standing down the bay ! " A frown came over Morris ' face ; The strange , dark craft he knew : " That is the iron ...
... heard . And then began the sailors ' jests : " What thing is that , I say ? " " A long - shore meeting - house adrift Is standing down the bay ! " A frown came over Morris ' face ; The strange , dark craft he knew : " That is the iron ...
Page 37
... heard to give you courage and hope in the contest , that voice is yours to - day ; and if a man whose hair is gray , who is well- nigh worn out in the battle and toil of life , may pledge him- self on such an occasion and in such an ...
... heard to give you courage and hope in the contest , that voice is yours to - day ; and if a man whose hair is gray , who is well- nigh worn out in the battle and toil of life , may pledge him- self on such an occasion and in such an ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alfred Tennyson arms Bardell beautiful bells beneath bless blood brave breast breath bright brow child cold cried Dacotahs dark dead dear death deep door dream dying earth eyes face fall father fell fellah fire flag flowers gazed glory gone grave hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha honor hour Ishmael Day JOSH BILLINGS land Lars Porsena laugh Laughing Water light lips live look Lord morning mother N. P. Willis neath never Nevermore night Nokomis o'er pale Pickwick poor pray prayer Quoth the raven ring SHAMUS Shibboleth shout silence sleep smile sorrow soul Spartacus spirit stand star-spangled banner stars stood sweet sword tears tell thee there's thing thou thought Toll Twas voice wave weary weep wife wild wonder word young
Popular passages
Page 7 - O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Page 35 - Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged.
Page 134 - 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.
Page 103 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious. If it were so, it was a grievous fault; And grievously hath Caesar answered it.
Page 92 - Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest — Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
Page 59 - 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.
Page 126 - Came through the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, — All that was left of them, Left of six hundred.
Page 71 - Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, " 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.
Page 59 - for Aix is in sight!' 'How they'll greet us!' — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets
Page 109 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make, With a bare bodkin?