A system of elocution based upon grammatical analysis |
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Page 34
... . TENDERNESS . There is a lip which mine hath prest , And none had ever prest before ; It vow'd to make me sweetly blest , And mine , mine only press it more . There is a bosom , all my own , Hath 34 A SYSTEM OF ELOCUTION .
... . TENDERNESS . There is a lip which mine hath prest , And none had ever prest before ; It vow'd to make me sweetly blest , And mine , mine only press it more . There is a bosom , all my own , Hath 34 A SYSTEM OF ELOCUTION .
Page 35
William Stewart Ross. There is a bosom , all my own , Hath pillow'd oft this aching head ; A mouth , which smiles on me alone ; An eye , whose tears with mine are shed . GENTLE COMPLAINT . Must it be ? -then farewell , Thou whom my ...
William Stewart Ross. There is a bosom , all my own , Hath pillow'd oft this aching head ; A mouth , which smiles on me alone ; An eye , whose tears with mine are shed . GENTLE COMPLAINT . Must it be ? -then farewell , Thou whom my ...
Page 49
... bosom black as death ! O limèd soul , that , struggling to be free , Art more engaged ! Help , angels ! -make assay— Bow , stubborn knees ; and , heart with strings of steel , Be soft as sinews of the new - born babe ! And all may yet ...
... bosom black as death ! O limèd soul , that , struggling to be free , Art more engaged ! Help , angels ! -make assay— Bow , stubborn knees ; and , heart with strings of steel , Be soft as sinews of the new - born babe ! And all may yet ...
Page 68
... bosom knew ; But his full heart was like to break In every throb his bosom drew . IV . 66 Oh , I had ween'd with fondest heart- Woe to the guileful friend who lied ! - This day should join us ne'er to part , This day that I should win ...
... bosom knew ; But his full heart was like to break In every throb his bosom drew . IV . 66 Oh , I had ween'd with fondest heart- Woe to the guileful friend who lied ! - This day should join us ne'er to part , This day that I should win ...
Page 69
... bosom of the dead ! X. Are these the glowing tints of life O'er Mary's cheek that come and fly ? Ah , no ! the red flowers round are rife , The rose - bud flings its soften'd dye . XI . Why grows the gazer's sight so dim ? Stay , dear ...
... bosom of the dead ! X. Are these the glowing tints of life O'er Mary's cheek that come and fly ? Ah , no ! the red flowers round are rife , The rose - bud flings its soften'd dye . XI . Why grows the gazer's sight so dim ? Stay , dear ...
Other editions - View all
A System of Elocution Based Upon Grammatical Analysis William Stewart Ross No preview available - 2016 |
A System of Elocution Based Upon Grammatical Analysis William Stewart Ross No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
Aldabella Antony battle bear Bianca blood bosom brave breast Brutus C. H. SPURGEON Cæsar Caius Verres Casca character Christ Christian dark dead dear death deep Demosthenes divine door doth ducats Duke earth Elocution elocutionary eternal eyes father Fazio feeling give glorious glory grace grave hand hath hear heard heart heaven Highland Highland Hills honour hope HUGHES'S human Jesus JOHN CAIRD justice labour land laws liberty light lips living look Lord Mark Antony mind nature never Nevermore night noble o'er orator passion PATERNOSTER SQUARE prayers principle Quoth the Raven religion sentence shore Shylock smile soul speak spirit St Pier suffered SURPLUS LABOUR sweet sword tears tell thee things THOMAS CHALMERS thou art thought tion tone true utterance Vere voice words
Popular passages
Page 43 - How like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him for he Is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
Page 376 - Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty sinews, throwing it aside And stemming it with hearts of controversy; But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, Caesar cried, 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!
Page 389 - Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer,— Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
Page 390 - Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a Roman ? If any, speak ; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Page 382 - I could be well mov'd, if I were as you ; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me : But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality, There is no fellow in the firmament. The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, They are all fire, and every one doth shine ; But there's but one in all doth hold his place...
Page 140 - Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 0 welcome guest, though unexpected here ! Who bidst me honour with an artless song, Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own ; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Page 359 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys, and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own.
Page 137 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, — "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!
Page 143 - I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might — But no — what here we call our life is such, So little to be loved, and thou so much, That I should ill requite thee to constrain Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.
Page 49 - Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. "Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.