The Young Catholic's Illustrated Fifth Reader

Catholic Publication Society, 1882

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Side 16 - the head of antithetic, and is generally rendered by an inflection of the voice. But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar, that should move The stones of Rome to rise in mutiny.
Side 367 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied. 6.
Side 353 - Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he. 29. The next, with dirges due, in sad array, Slow through the church-way path, we saw him borne. Approach, and read (for thou canst read) the lay 'Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Side 267 - He heard it, but he heeded not; his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away : He recked not of the life he lost, nor prize ; But where his rude hut by the Danube lay— There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Bacian mother—he their sire,
Side 367 - A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintained its man ; For him light Labor spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life required, but gave no more : His best companions, innocence and health ; And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
Side 349 - morn, The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. I.
Side 36 - 5. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! 6. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
Side 17 - a horse ! my KINGDOM for a horse ! —Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die: I think there be six Richmonds in the field ; Five have I slain to-day instead of him. A horse ! a horse ! my KINGDOM for
Side 37 - 8. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory. CHARLES WOLFE.
Side 350 - all that wealth, e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour : The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 10. Nor you, ye proud ! impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. II. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back

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