PASSAGES FOR PARAPHRASING.

I.

Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a reverend1 hermit2 grew.3
Dr. Parnell.

1 reverend, to be revered; commanded respect.
2 hermit, a dweller in a solitary place.

3

grew,

lived.

II.

Each evening I behold1 the setting sun
With downward speed into the ocean run;2

Yet the same light (pass but some fleeting hours) 3
Exerts his vigour and renews his powers.*-Prior.

1 Paraphrase "I behold," by "I have seen."

2 That is, precipitated into the sea.

3 After short time.

With increased strength.

III.

It was a summer's evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun;

And by him sported on the green,

His little grandchild, Wilhelmine.-Southey.

IV.

Alone, I walked the ocean strand,
A pearly shell was in my hand;
I stooped and wrote upon the sand
My name-the year-the day.

As onward from the spot I passed,
One lingering look behind I cast;
A wave came rolling high and fast,
And washed my lines away.-H. F. Gould.

4.

Around the fire, one wintry night,
The farmer's rosy children sat;
The faggot lent its blazing light

And jokes went round and careless chat.
When hark! a gentle hand they hear
Low tapping at the bolted door;
And thus to gain their willing ear,
A feeble voice was heard t' implore-
"Open your hospitable door,

And shield me from the biting blast;
Cold, cold it blows across the moor,

The weary inoor that I have past."

Aikin.

VI.

When wintry winds are piercing chill,

And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill

That overbrows' the lonely vale.

O'er the bare upland,2 and away

Through the long reach of desert woods,
The embracing sunbeams faintly play,
And gladden these deep solitudes.

Alas! how changed from the fair scene
When birds sang out their mellow lay,

1 Overlooks.

2 Land, high in situation; as opposed to meadows,

And winds were soft, and woods were green,
And the song ceased not with the day.

Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,—

I listen, and it cheers me long.-Longfellow.

VII.

Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,

From wandering on a foreign strand?1
If such there breathe, go mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,3
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And doubly dying shall go down

To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.-Sir W. Scott.

To speak truth of Cæsar,

I have not known when his affections swayed i

More than his reason.

1 swayed, influenced him.

But 'tis a common proof,"

2 common proof, proved by common experience. Commonly proves to be the case.

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber upward turns his face:
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees
By which he did ascend: so Cæsar may;
Then, lest he may, prevent.'

Shakespeare, "Julius Cæsar."

3 lowliness, modest behaviour.

4 upmost round, highest step of the ladder.

5 scorning, despising.

6 base, low; referring to the lowest steps of the ladder. The word base no doubt expresses something of contempt also.

7 prevent, anticipate, prevent his further progress.

IX.

In all my wanderings round this world of care,
In all my griefs-and God has given my share-
I still had hopes my latest hours to crown,
Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;
To husband' out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose:
I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,
Amidst the swains 2 to show my book-learned skill,
Around my fire an evening group3 to draw,
And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ;

And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,1
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations past,
Here to return-and die at home at last.

Goldsmith, “The Deserted Village.”

1 To husband out, to use carefully, and so prolong life.

2 Young men, peasants.

3 To draw a group of persons around my fire in the evening. 4 The horns blown by the hunters in pursuit.

X.

Now sunk the sun;1 the closing hour of day
Came onward, mantled3 o'er with sober grey;
Nature in silence bid the world repose;

4

When near the road a stately palace rose:

There by the moon through ranks of trees they pass, Whose verdure' crown'd their sloping sides of grass. It chanc'd the noble master of the dome, 10

Still made his house the wandering stranger's home : Yet still the kindness, from a thirst11 of praise Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease. *

Dr. Parnell.

By this the northerne wagoner1 had set
His sevenfold 2 teme behind the stedfast3 starre,
That was in ocean waves yet never wet,

But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from farre
To all that in the wide deepe wandring arre:
And chearefull Chaunticlere with his note shrill
Had warned once, that Phoebus' fiery1 carre

1 The constellation Boötes, wagoner to Charles' Wain.
2 The seven stars known as Charles' Wain.

3 The pole star, which never sets in our latitude.

4 The sun. The ancients supposed the sun-god drove his chariot daily across the sky.

*The idea contained in the last two lines is this: the hospitality shown by the master of the house was only apparent, inasmuch as it did not spring from a right motive; it was only done for show, to court popularity.