Steps to Oratory: A School Speaker

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American book Company, 1900 - Oratory - 464 pages

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Page 185 - The world recedes: it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy Victory? O Death! where is thy Sting.
Page 245 - Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity chok'd with custom of fell deeds : And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, Cry
Page 360 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place...
Page 396 - I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps, His day is marching on. I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel ; ' As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Page 245 - 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.
Page 176 - Shall one by one be gathered to thy side By those who in their turn shall follow them.
Page 88 - Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus ; but use all gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.
Page 409 - O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear Father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
Page 407 - South this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to him ? Fondly do we hope — fervently do we pray — that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled...
Page 334 - There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges, for which we have been so long contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight ; I repeat it, sir, we must fight. An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us.

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