The training examiner in grammar and the analysis of sentences. 2nd course

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Seite 58 - TWAS at the royal feast for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne...
Seite 56 - HIGH on a throne of royal state, • — which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus, and of Ind ; Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings Barbaric pearl and gold...
Seite 75 - Reserved him to more wrath ; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him. Round he throws his baleful eyes, That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, Mixed with obdurate pride, and steadfast hate; At once, as far as angels...
Seite 87 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Seite 64 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Seite 77 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?
Seite 75 - Then none was for a party ; Then all were for the state ; Then the great man helped the poor, And the poor man loved the great ; Then lands were fairly portioned ; Then spoils were fairly sold : The Romans were like brothers In the brave days of old.
Seite 43 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Seite 81 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Seite 43 - Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile. Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. But no — what here we call our life is such, So little to be loved, and thou so much, That I should ill requite thee to constrain Thy unbound spirit into bonds again.

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