The Progressive Road to Reading, Book 4

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Page 95 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow ; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Page 65 - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Page 144 - On the deck the Rover takes his stand, So dark it is they see no land. Quoth Sir Ralph, " It will be lighter soon, For there is the dawn of the rising moon.
Page 196 - These clumsy feet still in the mire, Go crushing blossoms without end; These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heartstrings of a friend. "The ill-timed truth we might have kept — Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung? The word we had not sense to say — Who knows how grandly it had rung...
Page 143 - Rover walked his deck, And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. He felt the cheering power of spring, It made him whistle, it made him sing ; His heart was mirthful to excess, But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float ; Quoth he, " My men, put out the boat, And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok.
Page 199 - And often they cried out both together, knowing so well when it would rise, and where. So they grew to be such friends with it, that, before lying down in their beds, they always looked out once again to bid it good night; and when they were turning round to sleep they used to say,
Page 263 - To Tubal Cain came many a one, As he wrought by his roaring fire, And each one prayed for a strong steel blade, As the crown of his desire. And he made them weapons sharp and strong, Till they shouted loud for glee, And gave him gifts of pearls and gold, And spoils of the forest free.
Page 16 - This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand...
Page 16 - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Page 94 - To match another foe ; And sweep through the deep While the stormy winds do blow, — While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow...

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