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"I expect a great deal from you," said the rose-tree. "May I ask
when it will appear?"
"I take my time," said the snail. "You're always in such a
hurry. That does not excite expectation."
The following year the snail lay in almost the same spot, in the
sunshine under the rose-tree, which was again budding and bearing
roses as fresh and beautiful as ever. The snail crept half out of
his shell, stretched out his horns, and drew them in again.
"Everything is just as it was last year! No progress at all; the
rose-tree sticks to its roses and gets no farther."
"Everything is just as it was last year! No progress at all; the
rose-tree sticks to its roses and gets no farther."
The summer and the autumn passed; the rose-tree bore roses and
buds till the snow fell and the weather became raw and wet; then it
bent down its head, and the snail crept into the ground.
A new year began; the roses made their appearance, and the snail
made his too.
"You are an old rose-tree now," said the snail. "You must make
haste and die. You have given the world all that you had in you;
whether it was of much importance is a question that I have not had
time to think about.
"You must make
haste and die. You have given the world all that you had in you;
whether it was of much importance is a question that I have not had
time to think about. But this much is clear and plain, that you have
not done the least for your inner development, or you would have
produced something else. Have you anything to say in defence? You will
now soon be nothing but a stick. Do you understand what I say?"
"You frighten me," said the rose- tree. "I have never thought of
that."
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The marshy spot of ground where Dolon is killed, the tamarisk, or aquatic plant upon
which they hung his spoils, and the reeds that are heaped together to mark the place, are
circumstances the most picturesque imaginable.
THE ILIAD.
BOOK XI.
ARGUMENT OF THE ELEVENTH BOOK.
Agamemnon distinguishes himself. He is wounded, and retires. Diomede is wounded by Paris; Ulysses by
Socus. Ajax with Menelaus flies to the relief of Ulysses, and Eurypylus, soon after, to the relief of Ajax. While
he is employed in assisting Ajax, he is shot in the thigh by Paris, who also wounds Machaon.
While
he is employed in assisting Ajax, he is shot in the thigh by Paris, who also wounds Machaon. Nestor conveys
Machaon from the field. Achilles dispatches Patroclus to the tent of Nestor, and Nestor takes that occasion to
exhort Patroclus to engage in battle, clothed in the armor of Achilles.
BOOK XI.
Aurora from Tithonus' side arose
With light for heaven and earth, when Jove dispatch'd
Discord, the fiery signal in her hand
Of battle bearing, to the Grecian fleet.
High on Ulysses' huge black ship she stood 5 The centre of the fleet, whence all might hear,
The tent of Telamon's huge son between,
156
And of Achilles; for confiding they
In their heroic fortitude, their barks
Well-poised had station'd utmost of the line.
High on Ulysses' huge black ship she stood 5 The centre of the fleet, whence all might hear,
The tent of Telamon's huge son between,
156
And of Achilles; for confiding they
In their heroic fortitude, their barks
Well-poised had station'd utmost of the line. 10 There standing, shrill she sent a cry abroad
Among the Achaians, such as thirst infused
Of battle ceaseless into every breast.
All deem'd, at once, war sweeter, than to seek
Their native country through the waves again. 15 Then with loud voice Atrides bade the Greeks
Gird on their armor, and himself his arms
Took radiant.
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He took a fond leave of all at home, and rode away, provided
with good abilities and good intentions. The swallows escorted him,
and he followed the swans till he found himself out in the world,
and far away from home. But he soon discovered that one may have too
much of a good thing. His hearing was too fine. He not only heard
the grass grow, but could hear every man's heart beat, whether in
sorrow or in joy. The whole world was to him like a clockmaker's great
workshop, in which all the clocks were going "tick, tick," and all the
turret clocks striking "ding, dong."
It was unbearable. For a long
time his ears endured it, but at last all the noise and tumult
became too much for one man to bear.
There were rascally boys of sixty years old- for years do not
alone make a man- who raised a tumult, which might have made the
Hearer laugh, but for the applause which followed, echoing through
every street and house, and was even heard in country roads. Falsehood
thrust itself forward and played the hypocrite; the bells on the
fool's cap jingled, and declared they were church-bells, and the noise
became so bad for the Hearer that he thrust his fingers into his ears.
Falsehood
thrust itself forward and played the hypocrite; the bells on the
fool's cap jingled, and declared they were church-bells, and the noise
became so bad for the Hearer that he thrust his fingers into his ears.
Still, he could hear false notes and bad singing, gossip and idle
words, scandal and slander, groaning and moaning, without and
within. "Heaven help us!" He thrust his fingers farther and farther
into his ears, till at last the drums burst. And now he could hear
nothing more of the true, the beautiful, and the good; for his hearing
was to have been the means by which he hoped to acquire his knowledge.
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It was autumn; the trees dropped their leaves, the earnest and
severe pastor sat at the bedside of a dying person. A pious,
faithful soul closed her eyes for ever; she was the pastor's wife.
..."If any one shall find rest in the grave and mercy before our
Lord you shall certainly do so," said the pastor. He folded her
hands and read a psalm over the dead woman.
She was buried; two large tears rolled over the cheeks of the
earnest man, and in the parsonage it was empty and still, for its
sun had set for ever.
She had gone home.
It was night. A cold wind swept over the pastor's head; he
opened his eyes, and it seemed to him as if the moon was shining
into his room. It was not so, however; there was a being standing
before his bed, and looking like the ghost of his deceased wife. She
fixed her eyes upon him with such a kind and sad expression, just as
if she wished to say something to him. The pastor raised himself in
bed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, "Not even you can find
eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?"
The dead woman nodded her head as if to say "Yes," and put her
hand on her breast.
The pastor raised himself in
bed and stretched his arms towards her, saying, "Not even you can find
eternal rest! You suffer, you best and most pious woman?"
The dead woman nodded her head as if to say "Yes," and put her
hand on her breast.
"And can I not obtain rest in the grave for you?"
"Yes," was the answer.
"And how?"
"Give me one hair- only one single hair- from the head of the
sinner for whom the fire shall never be extinguished, of the sinner
whom God will condemn to eternal punishment in hell."
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The door stood ajar, and from an inner
room sounded music so sweet and so lovely, that it produced the most
enchanting thoughts, and acted on the senses with magic power. Who
could live there? Where was the real entrance? for, both in the street
and in the lane at the side, the whole ground floor was a continuation
of shops; and people could not always be passing through them.
One evening the foreigner sat in the balcony. A light was
burning in his own room, just behind him. It was quite natural,
therefore, that his shadow should fall on the wall of the opposite
house; so that, as he sat amongst the flowers on his balcony, when
he moved, his shadow moved also.
It was quite natural,
therefore, that his shadow should fall on the wall of the opposite
house; so that, as he sat amongst the flowers on his balcony, when
he moved, his shadow moved also.
"I think my shadow is the only living thing to be seen
opposite," said the learned man; "see how pleasantly it sits among the
flowers. The door is only ajar; the shadow ought to be clever enough
to step in and look about him, and then to come back and tell me
what he has seen. You could make yourself useful in this way," said
he, jokingly; "be so good as to step in now, will you?" and then he
nodded to the shadow, and the shadow nodded in return.
"Now go, but
don't stay away altogether."
Then the foreigner stood up, and the shadow on the opposite
balcony stood up also; the foreigner turned round, the shadow
turned; and if any one had observed, they might have seen it go
straight into the half-opened door of the opposite balcony, as the
learned man re-entered his own room, and let the curtain fall. The
next morning he went out to take his coffee and read the newspapers.
"How is this?" he exclaimed, as he stood in the sunshine.
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She would hold my head between her
hands, and sing the songs she never sang at other times, for the
Turks, our masters, would not allow it. She sang,-
"On the summit of mount Olympus, in a forest of dwarf firs, lay an
old stag. His eyes were heavy with tears, and glittering with colors
like dewdrops; and there came by a roebuck, and said, 'What ailest
thee, that thou weepest blue and red tears?' And the stag answered,
'The Turk has come to our city; he has wild dogs for the chase, a
goodly pack.'
'I will drive them away across the islands!' cried the
young roebuck; 'I will drive them away across the islands into the
deep sea.' But before evening the roebuck was slain, and before
night the hunted stag was dead."
And when my mother sang thus, her eyes would become moist; and
on the long eyelashes were tears, but she concealed them and watched
the black bread baking in the ashes. Then I would clench my fist,
and cry, "We will kill these Turks!" But she repeated the words of the
song, "I will drive them across the islands to the deep sea; but
before evening came the roebuck was slain, and before the night the
hunted stag was dead."
Then I would clench my fist,
and cry, "We will kill these Turks!" But she repeated the words of the
song, "I will drive them across the islands to the deep sea; but
before evening came the roebuck was slain, and before the night the
hunted stag was dead."
We had been lonely in our hut for several days and nights when
my father came home. I knew he would bring me some shells from the
gulf of Lepanto, or perhaps a knife with a shining blade. This time he
brought, under his sheep-skin cloak, a little child, a little
half-naked girl.
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