Cathcart's Literary Reader: A Manual of English Literature : Being Typical Selections from Some of the Best British and American Authors from Shakespeare to the Present Time, Chronologically Arranged, with Biographical and Critical Sketches, and Numerous Notes, Etc
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Cathcart's Literary Reader: A Manual of English Literature: Being Typical ...
George Rhett Cathcart
No preview available - 2015
Cathcart's Literary Reader: A Manual of English Literature; Being Typical ...
George Rhett Cathcart
No preview available - 2017
American Annabel Lee appeared Azoic Bardell beauty bells Ben Jonson better Boabdil born breath called century character critic death delight died doth earth England English essayist essays eyes father flowers George Eliot give grace Greece hand hath heart heaven historian History honor hour human James Russell Lowell John king land language Laurentian Hills light literary literature living Lochinvar look Lord Lycidas man's Middlemarch mind morning nature never night noble novelist novels o'er passion philosopher Pickwick poems poet poetry political praise prose river Samuel Johnson Scottish seems Shakespeare Sleepy Hollow smile song sonnet soul spirit stars stream style sweet tears tell thee things thou thought tion trees turn verse voice Webster's Dictionary whole William wind words writer young youth
Page 357 - Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and. curious volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. " "Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door — Only this and nothing more.
Page 280 - A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And gentle sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart...
Page 358 - 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 255 - When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood...
Page 33 - O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
Page 144 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Page 281 - Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulcher.
Page 237 - Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Page 75 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony This universal frame began ; When Nature underneath a heap Of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high, Arise, ye more than dead.
Page 277 - And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.