Основы английской интонации. Учебное пособие

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee.

A poet could not but be gay

In such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed - but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills

And dances with the daffodils.

FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE

by Robert L. Stevenson

Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle,

All through the meadows, the horses and cattle;

All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;

And there’s the green for stringing the daisies!

Here is a cart run away in the road,

Lumping along with man and load;

And here is a mill and there’s a river;

Each a glimpse and gone for ever!

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EVENING

by P. B. Shelley

The sun is set; the swallows are asleep; The bats are flitting fast in the grey air;

The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep, And evening’s breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, Wakes not one ripple from its silent dream. There are no dews on the dry grass tonight, Nor damp within the shadow of the trees;

The wind is intermitting, dry and light; And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town.

THOSE EVENING BELLS

by Thomas Moore

Those evening bells! Those evening bells!

How many a tale their music tells,

Of love and home, and that sweet time,

When last I heard their soothing chime!

Those joyous hours are passed away!

And many a heart that then was gay

Within the tomb now darkly dwells

And hears no more those evening bells!

And so ‘twill be when I am gone,

That tuneful peal will still ring on,

While other bards shall walk these dells,

And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!

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WHAT IS PINK?

by Ch. Rossetti

What is pink? A rose is pink By the fountain brink. What is red? A poppy’s red In its barley bed.

What is blue? The sky is blue, Where the clouds float through. What is white! A swan is white, Sailing in the light.

What is yellow? A pear is yellow, Rich, and ripe, and mellow. What is green? The grass is green With small flowers between. What is violet? Clouds are violet In the summer twilight.

What is orange? Why, an orange! Just an orange.

IF

By R. Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master; If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors both the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

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If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!

TWILIGHT

by H. W. Longfellow

The twilight is sad and cloudy The wind blows wild and free And like the wings of sea-birds Flash the white caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman’s cottage

There shines a ruddier light.

And a little face at the window

Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window

As if those childish eyes

Were looking into the darkness

To see some form arise.

And a woman’s waving shadow

Is passing to and fro

Now rising to the ceiling,

Now bowing and bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean

And the night wind bleak and wild

As they beat at the crazy casement

Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean

And the night wind wild and bleak

As they beat at the heart of the mother

Drive the colour from her cheek?

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THE PROPER STUDY

W. S. Slater

Seated before her window Mrs Jones Described the passers-by in ringing tones. ‘Look’, she would say, ‘the girl at Number Three Has brought her latest boy-friend home to tea; And, see, the woman at the upstair flat

Has bought herself another summer hat!’

Her daughter, Daphne, filled with deep disgust, Expostulated ‘Mother, really must

You pry upon the neighbours? Don’t you know Gossip is idle, empty-minded, low?’

And Mrs Jones would murmur ‘Fancy dear! There’s Mr Thompson going for his beer!’

Daphne, an earnest girl of twenty-three, Read Sociology for her degree

And every Saturday she would repair, Armed with her tutor’s latest questionnaire, To knock on doors, demanding ‘Are you wed? Have you a child? A Car? A double bed?’

Poor Mrs Jones would remonstrate each week, ‘Daphne, I wonder how you have the cheek. And then to call me nosey!’ Daphne sighed. ‘Oh, will you never understand?’ she cried. ‘Mere curiosity is one thing, Mother:

Social Analysis is quite another.’

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PROBLEM CHILD

by J. E. Faulks

How shall I deal with Roger, Mrs. Prodger? I’ve never yet been able

To sit him at table

And make him paint a label

For the salmon in the kindergarten shop. But he is full of animation

When I mention a dictation,

And he never wants a spelling test to stop. I’ve encouraged self-expression

And intentional digression

But I think I’ll have to let the system drop. For the normal child, like Roger,

Is a do-er, not a dodger,

And your methods, Mrs. Prodger, are a flop. How shall I deal with Roger, Mrs. Prodger? I’ve had projects on the fairies,

On markets, shops, and dairies;

But the little fellow doesn’t want to play: Instead he has a yearning

For unreasonable learning,

And wants to do Arithmetic all day. He shows a strong proclivity,

For purposeless activity.

And doesn’t want experience in clay. So, I rather think that Roger

Is a do-er, not a dodger,

And how would you deal with Roger, can you say?

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SONNET COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE by W. Wordsworth

Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth like a garment wear

The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky:

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour, valley, rock or hill;

Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! The very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

SONNET 18

by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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SONNET 29

by W. Shakespeare

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope, With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Happily I think on thee, - and then my state (Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered, such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

SONNET 30

by W. Shakespeare

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,

And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste: Then can I drown an eye unused to flow,

For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, And weep afresh love’s long since cancell’d woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish’d sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.

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SONNET 66

by W. Shakespeare

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, — As, to be hold desert a beggar born,

And needy nothing trimm’d in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly (doctor-like), controlling skill, And simple truth miscall’d simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill:

Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I live my love alone.

SONNET 130

by William Shakespeare

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red:

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask’d, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound:

I grant I never saw a goddess go,

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

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REFERENCES

1.Английская интонация : метод. рек. по практич. фонетике для студентов 1 курса англ. отделения фак. ин. яз. / сост. Л. П. Павличенко. — Омск : Изд-во ОмГПУ, 2003. — 31 с.

2.Английский язык. 10 класс : учеб. для общеобразов. учреждений / О. В. Афанасьева, Дж. Дули, И. В. Михеева[и др.]. — 3-е изд. — М. : Express Publishing: Просвещение, 2010. — 248 с. :

ил.

3.Английский язык: 10 класс: базовый уровень : учеб. для учащихся общеобразовательных организаций / М. В. Вербицкая, С. Маккинли, Б. Хастингс [и др.]. — 3–е изд., испр. — М. :

Вентана — Граф: Pearson Education Limited, 2018. — 144 с.

4.Березина С. С. Практическая фонетика английского языка. Интонация :учеб.пособие/Амурскийгуманитарно-педагогический государственный университет. –– Саратов: Ай Пи Ар Медиа, 2019. — 69 с. — URL: http://www.iprbookshop.ru/86205.html (дата обращения: 12.12.2020).

5.Болдырева Э. Т., Осиянова А. В. Test your communicative culture! : сб. контрольных заданий по практическому курсу английского языка. –– Оренбург : Оренбургский государственный университет, ЭБС АСВ, 2013. — 132 c. — URL: http://www. iprbookshop.ru/30096 (дата обращения: 12.12.2020).

6.Карпова Т. А., Восковская А. С. Английский язык : учеб.

пособие. — 5–е изд., перераб. и доп. — М. : КНОРУС, 2013. — 368 с.

7.Ковалева Н. Е. Практикумпоразвитиюустнойиписьменной речи: методические рекомендации. — Омск : Изд-во ОмГПУ, 2009. — 96 с.

8.ПоповЕ. Б.Miscellaneousitems.Общеразговорныйанглийский язык : учеб. пособие. — Саратов : Вузовское образование, 2013. — 133 c. — URL: http://www.iprbookshop.ru/16669 (дата обращения: 12.12.2020).

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