"Ire" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... neighing steed, Who grazed among a numerous breed, With mutiny had fired the train, And spread dissension through the plain. On matters that concerned the state The Council met in grand debate. A Colt, whose eyeballs flamed with ire, Elate with strength and youthful fire, In haste stepped forth before the rest, And thus ...
— The Talking Beasts • Various
... haughty lines expressive of his indignation at the ingratitude of Luis, who was requiting the kindness he had received at his hands by endeavouring to thwart his plans and seduce the affections of his daughter. The terms in which this letter was couched roused the ire of Don Manuel, who in his turn forbade his son to expose himself to a repetition of similar insults by any communication with the count or his daughter. Shortly afterwards Luis returned to Salamanca ...
— Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 62, Number 361, November, 1845. • Various
... capillum ex capite omni, tanquam medendi gratia, deradit, caputque ejus leve in literarum formas compungit: his literis, quae voluerat, perscripsit: hominem postea, quoad capillus adolesceret, domo continuit: ubi id factum est, ire ad Aristagoram jubet; et cum ad eum, inquit, veneris, mandasse me dicito, ut caput tuum, sicut nuper egomet feci, deradat. Servus ut imperatum erat, ad Aristagoram venit, mandatumque domini affert: atque ille id non esse frustra ratus, quod ...
— A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. VIII (4th edition) • Various
... already Manitou enthroned there In the fastness of the mountain, with his sphynx-like, stony face Watching like a guardian spirit, o'er the dusky lawless race Who regarded not each other, and their deadly hatred slaked In the blood of friends and foemen, when their slumbering ire was waked. ...
— Indian Legends of Minnesota • Various
... still!' A single arrow from my bow, Bathed in the poisonous manchenille,(4) Would in an instant lay him low; So deadly is the icy chill, With which the life-blood it congeals, The wounded warrior scarcely feels Its fatal touch ere he expire: But, when Revenge would glut his ire, He stops not with immediate death The current of his victim's breath; With gasp, and intervening pause, The lifeblood from its source he draws, Marks, in the crimson stream that flows, How near life verges to its close,— And its last soul-exhaling groan, To him is ...
— Mazelli, and Other Poems • George W. Sands
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