The World's Greatest Books [Volumes 1-15, 17-20]
- Автор: Gutenberg
- Год: 1910
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Культурология
Электронная книга - «The World's Greatest Books [Volumes 1-15, 17-20]». Краткое содержание книги:
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 01 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 02 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 03 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 04 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 05 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 06 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 07 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 08 — Fiction от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 09 — Lives and Letters от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 10 — Lives and Letters от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 11 — Ancient and Mediæval History от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 12 — Modern History от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 13 — Religion and Philosophy от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 14 — Philosophy and Economics от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 15 — Science от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 17 — Poetry and Drama от Неизвестный
The world's greatest books от Mee, Arthur, 1875-1943, joint editor & Hammerton, John Alexander, Sir, 1871-1949, joint editor & McClure, S. S. (Samuel Sidney), 1857-1949, joint editor
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 19 — Travel and Adventure от Неизвестный
The World's Greatest Books — Volume 20 — Miscellaneous Literature and Index от Неизвестный
Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye— " Soars thy presumption, then, so high, Because a wretched kern ye slew, Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! Thou add'st but fuel to my hate: My clansman's blood demands revenge. Not yet prepared? By heaven, I change My thought, and hold thy valour light As that of some vain carpet knight, Who ill deserved my courteous care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fair lady's hair." 167
The World's Greatest Books
" I thank thee, Roderick, for the word! It nerves my heart, it steels my sword; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone! "
In the combat that ensued the expert but weaker Fitz-Jamcs brought Roderick to his knee and called on him to surrender. But the GaelLike adder darting from his coil, Like wolf that dashes through the toil, Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through bars of brass and triple steel! They tug, they strain! down, down they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below. The chieftain's gripe his throat compressed, His knee was planted on his breast; His clotted locks he backward threw, Across his brow his hand he drew, From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright! But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide, And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game; For, while the dagger gleamed on high, Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. Down came the blow! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath. The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting chief's relaxing grasp; Unwounded from the dreadful close, But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 168
Sir Walter Scott
Fitz-James then blew a blast on his bugle, and four mounted squires appeared, clad in Lincoln green. Bidding them attend to Roderick and to bring him on to Stirling, he mounted one of the horses they led and rode at full speed for the Northern capital. Meantime, Douglas had arrived at Stirling, resolved to give himself up to the king; but, finding that the burghers were holding their sports that day, he resolved to take part in them, and to show his sovereign how little age had tamed his sinews. So successful was he that he overcame all rivals at archery, at wrestling, and at throwing the stone. But the king handed him the prizes with a cold glance; and when he proclaimed his identity and offered himself as a victim to atone the war, he was merely ordered into arrest. This harsh action stirred the burghers to a riot which Douglas had some difficulty in allaying. But eventually the crowd's wild fury subsided; and in order to prevent the useless shedding of blood a messenger who brought King James news of the gathering of Roderick's clansmen was bidden tell them that their chief had been brought in a prisoner, and that Douglas had made his submission. Shortly afterwards Ellen, accompanied by her father's minstrel, arrived at Stirling, and having shown the royal signet ring, was conducted to the king's presence; while Allan, having asked to see his master's face, was shown into a prison-room, where he found not the Douglas but the wounded Roderick Dhu. Having been assured that Ellen, his mother, and the Douglas were safe and well, the chief of the Clan Alpine besought the minstrel to give him an account of the battle in which his vessels had been engaged; and Allan was just proceeding to tell how, in the thick of the conflict, fighting was stopped by the arrival of the king's herald, when Roderick gave up the ghost. Meantime Ellen, having met Fitz-James again at the castle, was conducted by him to the king's court, where, to her consternation, she quickly discovered that the Knight of Snowdoun was none other than the Scottish king. With what joy she was reunited to her father—now reconciled to King James—with what deep happiness she met again her lover and received the royal sanction of their betrothal, the reader will scarcely need to be informed.
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SHAKESPEARE Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
Gertrude, queen of Denmark, becoming a widow by the sudden death of the king, in less than two months after his death married his brother Claudius. This Claudius did no ways resemble her late husband in the
Many uncertainties cluster around the figure of William Shakespeare. The date of his birth is not positively known, but as he was baptised on April 26, 1564, and as it was usual to christen infants when three days old, it is assumed that he was born on April 23. The same date of the same month in 1616 was his death. A century ago, George Stevens wrote: " All we know with any degree of certainty concerning Shakespeare is —that he was born at Stratford-on-Avon, married and had children there, went to London, where he commenced acting, and wrote plays and poems, returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried." Tradition says that the poet abandoned his native town on account of a poaching incident, and that he subsequently became a schoolmaster. The plays epitomised here are from the pen of Charles and Mary Lamb, and although in this particular form they constitute a departure from the plan generally followed in The World's Greatest Books, yet it was felt to be both a useful and a justifiable one, both on account of the high reputation which Lamb's " Tales from Shakespeare " deservedly enjoy, and also because Shakespeare, perhaps, alone among authors, is already too securely embedded in our thoughts, and too corporate a part of the English language, to stand in need of any lesser aid. In the composition of the " Tales," Charles Lamb (who was born in London on February 10. J775. and died there on December 27, 1834) is held to have been responsible for the tragedies and his sister Mary for the comedies, and apart from the exquisite literary taste which their undertaking displays, and without which it could never have survived, it possesses an added interest for us in the fact that it constituted the first literary success of one who was destined later to gain fresh immortality as among the most perfect and gentle of English essayists. The " Tales" were published in 1807, and were written as a contribution to William Godwin's Juvenile Library.
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qualities of his person or his mind, but was as contemptible in outward appearance as he was base and unworthy in disposition.
But upon no one did this unadvised action of the queen make such impression as upon young Hamlet, who loved and venerated the memory of his dead father almost to idolatry, and being of a nice sense of honour, and a most exquisite practiser of propriety himself, did sorely take to heart this unworthy conduct of his mother Gertrude.
It was not that the prospect of exclusion from the throne, his lawful inheritance, weighed so much upon his spirits; but what so galled him, and took away all his cheerful spirits, was, that his mother had shown herself so forgetful to his father's memory; and such a father! who had been to her so loving and so gentle a husband! She had married again, married his uncle, her dear husband's brother, in itself a highly improper and unlawful marriage, from the nearness of relationship, but made much more so by the indecent haste with which it was concluded.
In vain was all that his mother Gertrude or the king could do to contrive to divert him; he still appeared in
Except " Antony and Cleopatra," which exceeds it by sixty lines, " Hamlet, or the Prince of Denmark," is the longest of all Shakespeare's plays. It was produced in 1602, and two years later there appeared a printed version of " The Tragical History of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark," by William Shakespeare, newly imprinted and enlarged. For the actual story, the dramatist was probably indebted to a dramatic version by another writer, which obtained great vogue on the stage in 1589. As regards the play itself, it is rather a masterly philosophical effort, a study of a moral prisoning, than a piece of dramatic literature purely and simply. Yet its dramatic qualities cannot be ignored: proof of which is its undiminished popularity wherever the English language is spoken, and also on the European continent. The action moves slowly, at times it does not move at all; still the very personality—complex and subtle as it is—of Hamlet himself compels attention and carries everything before it. " ' Hamlet,'" said the great French critic Taine, " is Shakespeare, and in the whole of his gallery of portraits Shakespeare has painted himself in the most striking of all."