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52. oldal - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,...
50. oldal - Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.
468. oldal - And still his name sounds stirring Unto the men of Rome, As the trumpet-blast that cries to them To charge the Volscian home; And wives still pray to Juno For boys with hearts as bold As his who kept the bridge so well In the brave days of old.
467. oldal - Tiber! father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms Take thou in charge this day!" So he spake, and speaking, sheathed The good sword by his side, And with his harness on his back Plunged headlong in the tide.
468. oldal - And in the nights of winter, When the cold north winds blow, And the long howling of the wolves Is heard amidst the snow ; When round the lonely cottage Roars loud the tempest's din, And the good logs of Algidus Roar louder yet within...
474. oldal - Then leave the poor Plebeian his single tie to life — The sweet, sweet love of daughter, of sister, and of wife, The gentle speech, the balm for all that his vexed soul endures, The kiss, in which he half forgets even such a yoke as yours. Still let the maiden's beauty swell the father's breast with pride ; Still let the bridegroom's arms infold an unpolluted bride.
473. oldal - With her small tablets in her hand, and her satchel on her arm, Home she went bounding from the school, nor dreamed of shame or harm...
252. oldal - They that be slain with the sword are better than they that be slain with hunger ; for these pine away stricken through for want of the fruits of the field.