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Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.

6. I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young

blood;

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. 7. No more at yearly festivals

We cowslip balls

Or chains of columbines shall make
For this or that occasion's sake.

8. The wind had no more strength than this,
That leisurely it blew,

To make one leaf the next to kiss,
That closely by it grew.

9. Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past,
But you may stay yet here awhile
To blush and gently smile,
And go at last.

10. They have fought the fight, O Queen!
They have run the race.

11. When winter winds are piercing chill,
And through the hawthorn blows the gale,
With solemn feet I tread the hill

That overlooks the lonely vale.

12. Ye have been fresh and green;

Ye have been filled with flowers;
And ye the walks have been

Where maids have spent their hours.
13. Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn
14. Here, to the houseless child of want,
My door is open still.

15. A tear came trembling down his cheek
Just like a drop of dew.

16. If I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither can you crack a nut.
17. That very law that moulds a tear,

And bids it trickle from its source,
That law preserves the earth a sphere,
And guides the planets in their course.
18. You gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill.

19. In childhood's hours I lingered near
The hallowed seat with listening ear.

20. All the jolly chase is here,

With hawk, and horse, and hunting spear. 21. Every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, Wherein it finds a joy above the rest.

22. The foresters have busy been,

To track the buck in thicket green.

23. Clouds that love through air to hasten, Ere the storm its fury stills,

Helmet-like themselves will fasten

On the heads of towering hills.

24. I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on.

25. The glowworm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his ineffectual fire.

26. Then shook the hills with thunder riven Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven,

Far flash'd the red artillery.

27. I have stood upon Achilles' tomb,

And heard Troy doubted: time will doubt of Rome.

28. The gorse is yellow on the heath,

The banks with speedwell flowers are gay,

The oaks are budding; and beneath,

The hawthorn soon will bear the wreath,
The silver wreath of May.

29. The ranger on his couch lay warm,
And heard him plead in vain.

30. Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

F.

1. All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, The sun himself must die,

Before the mortal shall assume

Its immortality.

2. The flower ripens in its place,

Ripens and fades and falls and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.

3. Now o'er their heads the whizzing whirlwinds breathe, And the live desert pants and heaves beneath.

4. The mellow year is hasting to its close;

The little birds have almost sung their last;
Their small notes twitter in the dreary blast.
5. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which show like grief itself, but are not so.

6. All heaven and earth are still-though not in sleep,

But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep. 7. I send the lilies given to me;

Though long before thy hand they touch,
I know that they must wither'd be,
But yet reject them not as such ;
For I have cherish'd them as dear,
Because they yet may meet thine eye,
And guide thy soul to mine even here,
When thou behold'st them drooping nigh,
And know'st them gather'd by the Rhine,
And offer'd from my heart to thine!

8. Sweet is it to have done the thing one ought, When fall'n in darker ways.

9. Shades of evening close not o'er us,

Leave our lonely bark awhile;
Morn, alas! will not restore us
Yonder dim and distant isle.
Still my fancy can discover

Sunny spots where friends may dwell;
Darker shadows round us hover,-
Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!
10. They err who say thy song is sad:
To me it speaks of mirth

In tones as innocently glad
As aught that visits earth.

11. Come to the luxuriant skies,

Whilst the landscape's odours rise,
Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard,-
And songs, when toil is done,

From cottages, whose smoke unstirr'd
Curls yellow in the sun.

12. He covered up his face and bowed himself
A moment on his child; then, giving him
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer.
And, as if strength were given him of God,
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall
Firmly and decently,-and left him then,
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep.
13. Darker and darker

The black shadows fall;
Sleep and oblivion

Reign over all.

14. A thousand suns will stream on thec,
A thousand moons will quiver;

But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

15. To cast the fashion of uncertain evils;
For grant they be so, while the rest unknown;
What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would not avoid?

16. The sage who feels how blind, how weak
Is man, though loth such help to seek,
Yet, passing, here might pause;
And thirst for insight to allay
Misgiving, while the crimson day
In quietness withdraws.

17.

What boots it that I was,

Sith now I am but weeds and wasteful grass? 18. "These things," he answered me,

"shall all be told,

Soon as our feet upon the bank are placed
Of Acheron, that mournful river old."

19. As the wind drives back the rain,
Thus I drive with passion-strife.

20. She wept because she had no more to say
Of that perpetual weight which on her bosom lay.
Who would keep

21.

Power, must resolve to cleave to it through life,
Else it deserts him, surely as he live.

22. Jealous souls will not be answered so:
They are not ever jealous for a cause,
But jealous for they're jealous.
23. Thou Timour! in his captive's cage,
What thoughts will there be thine,
While brooding in thy prison'd rage!
24. No after-friendships e'er can raise
The endearments of our early days,
And ne'er the heart such fondness prove,
As when it first began to love.

25. What you can make her do,

I am content to look on; what to speak,

I am content to hear.

26. Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung His living harp, and lofty Denham sung?

27. While thus he spake, the angelic squadron bright
Turn'd fiery red, sharpening in mooned horns
Their phalanx, and began to hem him round
With ported spears, as thick as when a field
Of Ceres ripe for harvest waving bends

Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind
Sways them; the careful ploughman doubting stands,
Lest on the threshing floor the hopeful sheaves
Prove chaff.

28. The elder sister strove her pangs to hide,

29.

And soothing words to younger minds applied :
"Be still, be patient," oft she strove to say,
But fail'd as oft, and weeping turn'd away.
The sofa suits

The gouty limb, 'tis true; but gouty limb,
Though on a sofa, may I never feel:

For I have loved the rural walk through lanes

Of grassy swarth, close cropped by nibbling sheep,
And skirted thick with intertexture firm

Of thorny boughs: have loved the rural walks
O'er hills, through valleys, and by river's brink,
E'er since a truant boy I passed my bounds
To enjoy a ramble on the bank of Thames.
30. Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less, nor more,
But just a pound of flesh if thou tak'st more,
Or less, than a just pound,-be it but so much
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part

Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,—

Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.

CHAPTER XIII.-PARAPHRASING.

567. Paraphrasing is the putting of the sense of a passage into different but equivalent language.

568. It is perhaps impossible to paraphrase good poetry or prose without destroying much of its beauty and weakening its force. But, notwithstanding that a paraphrase is, on this account, more or less unsatisfactory, it is a most useful exercise, and tends, in an eminent degree, to cultivate and expand the intellect and to give an extended command over the English language. It also materially improves the taste, and serves to strengthen as well as to test the judgment.

569. The student must be careful to grasp thoroughly the full meaning which the writer intends to convey. For this purpose he must make himself acquainted with the meanings of the words, phrases, and allusions contained in the original, and he must also understand the syntactical arrangement and bearing of every word and phrase. It should also be remembered that a good paraphrase does not consist in the mere substitution of one word for another, even though the meaning conveyed be precisely the same. Having mastered the full sense of the original passage, the student is to express the same ideas by using different language, that is, besides a mere change of words, there should also be a change of phrases and idioms and an alteration of the structure of the sentences.

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