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Adverb alten America Archiv f. n. Sprachen Ausdruck Aussprache Bedeutung beiden bekannt Bemerkungen besonders bilden bloß Buch Charakter deſſen deutschen deutschen Sprache Dichter Dichtung dieſe dieß Diphthong Dorothea eben eigenthümlichen Einfluß einzelnen endlich Endung englischen Epistre ersten Femininum ferf finden findet Form französischen freilich furz ganze Gebrauch Gedanken Gedichte Gefühl Geist Geschichte Gesez gewiß giebt gleich Göthe Grammatik große Grund Halliw Hamlet Hand heißt Hermann und Dorothea Herr Herz Inhalt iſt Jahre jezt Kenntniß König konnte kurz laſſen läßt lateinischen Laut Leben lebendigen lezte lice lich Liebe Lied ließ Literatur logische macht Maria Stuart Menschen muß müſſen namentlich Natur neue nothwendig Optativ Phonologie Poesie poetischen Pronomen Protestantismus provenzalischen recht Rede richtig Rondeau sagt Scene scheint Schiller schließt Schrift Schule ſei ſein ſeine ſelbſt ſich ſie ſind soll Tasso Theil Umlaut unserer Verf Verhältniß verschiedenen viel Vocal Volkes Wallenstein Weise weiß wenig Werke Werth wieder wohl Wort zugleich zweiten
Page 358 - Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged ; their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace; but there is no peace.
Page 384 - ... falling ere he saw the star of his country rise; pouring out his generous blood like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of freedom or of bondage!— how shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the utterance of thy name! Our poor work may perish; but thine shall endure! This monument may moulder away; the solid ground it rests upon may sink down to a level with the sea; but thy memory shall not fail! Wheresoever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the transports...
Page 383 - Bridge ! our eyes seek for you in vain amid this broken band. You are gathered to your fathers, and live only to your country in her grateful remembrance and your own bright example. But let us not too much grieve, that you have met the common fate of men. You lived at least long enough to know that your work had been nobly and successfully accomplished. You lived to see your country's independence established, and to sheathe your swords from war. On the light of Liberty you saw arise the light of...
Page 266 - Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward, Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Page 382 - I had almost said so overwhelming, this renowned theatre of their courage and patriotism. /VENERABLE MEN ! you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife for your country.
Page 244 - By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named Night, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule: From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of Space — out of Time.
Page 267 - There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the chimneys, Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the songs of the maidens. Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the children Paused in their play to kiss the hand he...
Page 90 - My hand that marble felt ; O'er it in prayer I knelt ; Yet my heart whispers that — he is not there ! I cannot make him dead ! When passing by the bed, So long...
Page 262 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.