The Easy Reader, Or, Introduction to the National Preceptor: Consisting of Familiar and Progressive Lessons Designed to Aid in Thinking, Spelling, Defining, and Correct Reading
Durrie & Peck, 1833 - 144 pÓgines
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
accent Androcles Bards beast beautiful bird bright called child cried Croesus cruel dark dear death DEFINITIONS derivative word duke of Austria Edward England escape father Fido fire followed four and seven-pence Frank grateful beast greatest number ground Gun Powder Plot Guy Fawkes hand happy hear heard heart Heart of Lion horse Hubert Indian Johnny kill kind of word king king of England kingdom of England kiss Lamb laughed lazy learned LESSON Lion little boys little princes lived look mamma Mary master mother murder never night opposite Parliament House pence play polysyllables pray primitive or derivative prince Prince of Wales prisoner replied Richard Robert ruffians sheep ship sing soldiers Solon song soon Stew syllables tell thing thought told took treache trisyllables Wales whistle wicked William wind wish Wolf young
PÓgina 142 - He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane like a fairy crept. Wherever he breathed, wherever he...
PÓgina 35 - Pipe a song about a Lamb!" So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again"; So I piped: he wept to hear. "Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sang the same again, While he wept with joy to hear. "Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read.
PÓgina 115 - A rose's brief bright life of joy, such unto him was given ; go — thou must play alone, my boy! thy brother is in heaven.' 'And has he left his birds and flowers ; and must I call in vain? and through the long, long summer hours, will he not come again? 'And by the brook and in the glade are all our wanderings o'er? Oh! while my brother with me played, would I had loved him more!
PÓgina 127 - What is that, Mother ?— The eagle, boy !— Proudly careering his course of joy ; Firm, on his own mountain vigor relying, Breasting the dark storm, the red bolt defying, His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun, He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on. Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, Onward, and upward, and true to the line. What is that, Mother...
PÓgina 128 - midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things? Not there, not there, my child! Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold, Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand? Is it there, sweet mother! that better land? Not there, not there, my child...
PÓgina 127 - What is that, Mother ? The swan, my love ! He is floating down, from his native grove ; No loved one, now, no nestling, nigh, He is floating down, by himself, to die; Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song, is the last, he sings. Live so, my love, that when death shall come, Swanlike and sweet, it may waft thee home!
PÓgina 141 - THE Frost looked forth one still, clear night, And whispered, " Now I shall be out of sight; So through. the valley and over the height, In silence I'll take my way. I will not go on like that blustering train, The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, Who make so much bustle and noise in vain. But I'll be as busy as they!
PÓgina 125 - Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell ! Here are sweet sounds, which thou lovest well ; Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, Harps which the wandering breezes tune ; And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard.
PÓgina 135 - ... it is very probable, indeed, that they should expose a shield of gold in so public a place as this : for my part, I wonder even a silver one is not too strong a temptation for the devotion of some people who pass this way ; and it appears by the date, that this has been here above three years.
PÓgina 126 - Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest, She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast; Thou would'st meet her footstep, my boy, no more, Nor hear her song at the cabin door. Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye.