The Jones Fifth ReaderGinn, 1903 - 496 páginas |
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Página 18
... on 25 that cruel rock wherever they offered . Brent's horse slipped on the smooth rock and fell short . His master was out of the saddle almost before he struck , raising him . No , he would never rise again 18 THE JONES READERS.
... on 25 that cruel rock wherever they offered . Brent's horse slipped on the smooth rock and fell short . His master was out of the saddle almost before he struck , raising him . No , he would never rise again 18 THE JONES READERS.
Página 19
Lewis Henry Jones. raising him . No , he would never rise again . He sank and died without a sound . Brent groaned . With one knife - stroke I cut the thong of my girth . The heavy saddle fell to the ground . I cut off my spurs . They never ...
Lewis Henry Jones. raising him . No , he would never rise again . He sank and died without a sound . Brent groaned . With one knife - stroke I cut the thong of my girth . The heavy saddle fell to the ground . I cut off my spurs . They never ...
Página 32
... never doubting , in the fullness of her faith , that if she could once gain a hearing from the emperor she could win his favor and put an end to her 15 father's exile . Ah ! what could she know of the bitter- ness of royal hate , or of ...
... never doubting , in the fullness of her faith , that if she could once gain a hearing from the emperor she could win his favor and put an end to her 15 father's exile . Ah ! what could she know of the bitter- ness of royal hate , or of ...
Página 33
... never once failed ; and at last it rejoiced her heart to 25 see in the blazing sunlight , on the edge of the Muscovite plains , the great , shining domes of the palace of Moscow . Here she was a stranger in a great city . THE FIFTH ...
... never once failed ; and at last it rejoiced her heart to 25 see in the blazing sunlight , on the edge of the Muscovite plains , the great , shining domes of the palace of Moscow . Here she was a stranger in a great city . THE FIFTH ...
Página 46
... never more tender in its green . The orchard is waiting to be relieved of its burden . All summer long it has eased itself by throwing down a part of its fruits , worm - picked or storm - gathered ; and now those apples that remain ...
... never more tender in its green . The orchard is waiting to be relieved of its burden . All summer long it has eased itself by throwing down a part of its fruits , worm - picked or storm - gathered ; and now those apples that remain ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Abridged American Anchises arms azalea battle beauty bees BELL OF ATRI bells birds Boabdil born brave Brutus Cæsar called cloud cold dark death deep Don Quixote earth England English eyes famous father feet fell fire flower forest French friends gray ground hand hath head hear heard heart heaven HENRY TIMROD hill honey honor Hoopoe horse hour king land light live look Lord marsh marshes of Glynn mountain never night noble NOTE o'er once passed peace Peisthetairus Pickwick poems poet RALPH WALDO EMERSON rest sail Saladin Sancho Sancho Panza Scrooge selection is taken Shakespeare smile soul sound Spanish real stood story sweet sword thee things THOMAS STARR KING thou thought tongue trees tube turned voice waves WILLIAM WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE wind woods word young
Pasajes populares
Página 318 - Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
Página 496 - Pr'ythee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny : 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Página 495 - Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels. How can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?
Página 79 - Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing. Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose! I never thought to ask, I never knew; But in my simple ignorance suppose The self-same Power that brought me there brought you.
Página 402 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams...
Página 364 - If you have tears prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii : Look, in this place ran Cassius...
Página 225 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valor, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.
Página 362 - And, sure, he is an honourable man. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause; What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason! — Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, And I must pause, till it come back to me.
Página 185 - When Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there; She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand, The symbol of her chosen land.
Página 458 - Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper ? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; Neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, The glittering spear and the shield.