Chambers's geographical reader. Standard 1-7 |
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Časté výrazy a frázy
Aberdeen animals Arctic Ocean Atlantic beautiful Belfast boat border Britain British North America called Canal Cape capital castle cattle centre chief town coal colonies Cork county town district Dublin east coast Edinburgh England English farther south feet fertile Firth of Clyde Firth of Tay fish flows Glasgow Gulf of St harbour Head height Highlands hills Hudson Bay important Indian inhabitants Ireland Irish Isles James Lake land large number largest LESSON Loch Londonderry Lough lying Manitoba manufactures miles Moray Firth native Newfoundland North Island north of Scotland North-west northern Nova Scotia Ocean Ontario Pacific population possesses principal province Quebec Railway rises river rock Rocky Mountains sailing scenery Scotland Scots Shannon shores side snow Solway Firth South Wales southern St Lawrence Staffa Strait streams stretching Tasmania Territory trade trees Tweed valley Victoria waters west coast Western Australia Wexford whale Wicklow wild Winnipeg wooded Zealand
Populárne pasáže
Strana 55 - With gloomy splendour red ; For on the smoke-wreaths, huge and slow, That round her sable turrets flow, The morning beams were shed, And tinged them with a lustre proud, Like that which streaks a thunder-cloud. Such dusky grandeur clothed the height Where the huge castle holds its state, And all the steep slope down, Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, Piled deep and massy, close and high, Mine own romantic town!
Strana 90 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed. Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. — So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more.
Strana 104 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free...
Strana 136 - Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells.' How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Strana 104 - Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land ? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God.
Strana 11 - This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept,...
Strana 11 - O Caledonia ! stern and wild, meet nurse for a poetic child, • land of brown heath and shaggy wood, land of the mountain and the flood, land of my sires!
Strana 128 - Why should we yet our sail unfurl? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl; But, when the wind blows off the shore, Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past. Utawas' tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Strana 10 - Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand...
Strana 62 - WHEN first, descending from the Moorlands, I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide Along a bare and open valley, The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide. When last along its banks I wandered, Through groves that had begun to shed Their golden leaves upon the pathways, My steps the Border-minstrel led. The Mighty Minstrel breathes no longer, Mid mouldering ruins low he lies ; And death upon the braes of Yarrow, Has closed the Shepherd-poet's eyes...