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afterward the contest was for the possession of Jerusalem. Though the lives of several millions of Christians, among whom were many women and children, were sacrificed in these wars, it cannot be denied that the crusades were accompanied by many beneficial effects. Such, for instance, were the increased activity of political life in Europe and the breaking up of the feudal system.





SELECT ETYMOLOGIES.-Adequate : L. adæqua'tus, p. p. of adœ'quo, adœqua'tum, to make equal to; fr. ad and œ'quo, I make equal; fr. æ'quus, equal; h., equable, equator, equi-distant, equi-poise, equity, in-adequate, iniquity (that which is not equal or just), etc. . . . Atrocious: L. atrox, atro'cis; fr. a'ter, black. . . . Authority: L. auctor'itas; fr. au'go, auc'tum, to increase, to produce; h., auction, augment, author, etc. . . . Censer: a pan in which incense is burned; fr. incen'do, incen'sum, to set fire to; h., incendiary, in'cense and in-cense'; fr. can'deo, to be of a glowing whiteness; h., candid (L. can'didus, white), candidate (because he who sought office in Rome wore a white toga), candle, etc. . . . Crusade: fr. L. crux, crucis, a Edict: L. edic'tum; fr. edi'co, edic'tum, to declare; fr. e, out, and di'co, dic'tum, to say; h., ad-dict (lit., to say to; h., to assent to, to give one's self to), bene-diction (ben'e, well), contra-dict, dictate, dictionary, in-dict, inter-dict, pre-dict, pro-digy (v. p. 100), ver-dict (ve'rus, true), etc.: v. INDICATION for derivatives from dic'o, I proclaim, an intens. form of di'co, I say.... Enterprise: F. entre-prise; fr. L. prehen'do, prehen'sum, to lay hold of; h., ap-prehend, ap-prentice, ap-prise, com-prise, im-pregnable, prehensile, com-prehend, prison (fr. pren'sio, a seizing), prize (n.), re-prehend (lit., to seize again), re-prisal, sur-prise. . Expedient: L. exped'iens, p. pr. of exped'io, expeditum, to free one caught by the feet; h., to set free, to make ready, to fit; fr. ex, out, and pēs, ped'is, a foot; h., bi-ped, ex-pedite, im-pede, pedal, pedestal, pedestrian, pediment, quadru-ped (quat'uor, four), etc. Hamlet, a small village: A. S. ham, home, and -let, a diminutive termination.... Immediate : L. im=in-, not, and med'ius, middle; h., mediate (to go between), mediocrity, medium, etc. . . . Infidel: L. in-, not, and fi-de'lis, faithful; fr. fid'es, faith; h., af-fidavit (lit., he made faith to, or oath to; h., a declaration upon oath), af-fiance, bo'na fi-de (in good faith), con-fide, de-fy, dif-fident, faith, fidelity, per-fidy (fr. per, with the sense of going through and leaving), etc. Juvenile L. juveni'lis; fr. ju'venis, young; h., junior, re-juvenate. . Molest: L. mol-es'to; fr. moles'tus, troublesome; fr. mol'es, a heavy mass, a burden: v. DEMOLISH. Profession: L. pro-fes'sio; fr. profit'eor, profes'sus; fr. pro and fateor, I confess.... Restrain: L. restrin'go, restrictum, to draw tight; h., a-stringent, con-strain, con-strictor, re-strict, strain, strait, stress, strict, etc. Satellite: L. satel'les, satellitis, an attendant on a distinguished person. . . . Scheme: Gr. schē'ma, form.... Subsequent : L. sub'sequens, p. pr. of sub'sequor, I follow after; fr. sub, and sè'quor, secu'tus, to follow; h., con-secutive, con-sequence, en-sue, ex-ecutive (to follow out), ob-sequies, ob-sequious, per-secute, pro-secute, pur-sue, sequel, sequence, sue, suit, suite, etc.... University: L. univer'sitas, all together, the whole; fr. u'nus, one, and ver'to, ver'sum, to turn, i. e., turned into one.






FIVE years have passed; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters; and again I hear

These waters rolling from their mountain-springs
With a sweet inland murmur. Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage ground, these orchard tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
Among the woods and copses, nor disturb
The wild green landscape. Once again I see
These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up in silence from among
the trees,
With some uncertain notice, as might seem,
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire
The hermit sits alone.


These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man's eye;
But oft in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood and felt along the heart,
And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration-feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure; such, perhaps,

As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,

Is lightened; that serene and blessed mood
In which the affections gently lead us on,
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul,
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.


If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh how oft
In darkness, and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight, when the fretful stir
Unprofitable and the fever of the world
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart,
How oft in spirit have I turned to thee,

O sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer through the woods,
How often has my spirit turned to thee!

And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,
With many recognitions dim and faint
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,

The picture of the mind revives again;
While here I stand, not only with the sense

Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts

That in this moment there is life and food

For future



And so I dare to hope,

Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe
I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides
Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams
Wherever nature led; more like a man
Flying from something that he dreads than one
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days
And their glad animal movements all gone by)
To me was all in all. I cannot paint
What then I was. The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock,
The mountain and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colors and their forms, were then to me
An appetite-a feeling and a love

That had no need of a remoter charm
By thought supplied, or any interest
Unborrowed from the eye.


That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompense. For I have learned
To look on nature not as in the hour

Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes
The still sad music of humanity,

Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts, a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,

And the round ocean and the living air,

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man-
A motion and a spirit that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.


Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods
And mountains, and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they half create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognize
In nature and the language of the sense
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.



SELECT ETYMOLOGIES.-Absent: L. ab'sens, p. pr. of ab'sum, ab-es'se, to be away from; ab, from sum, I am, est, he, she or it is, ens, en'tis, being; h., entity, essence, inter-est (lit., it is between), non-entity, pres-ent (being before), re-present, etc. . . . Chasten, Chastise: fr. the L. cas'tigo, castiga'fum, to chastise; contracted fr. cas'tum, chaste, and ag'o, I move or drive (so pur'go, purga'tum, to make clean or pure, is contracted fr. purum-ago, I drive pure or make pure; h., ex-purgate, purge, purgative, etc.). . Extinguish: L. ex-stin'guo, ex-stinc'tum; fr. ex and stin'guo, I scratch out, I quench; fr. stig'o, I goad; h., in-stigate, stig'ma, stimulus; and fr. stin'guo, the following: di-stinguish, di-stinct, ex-tinct, in-stigate, in-stinct (inward impulse), in-stinctive (urged or stimulated from within). Hermit: fr. the Gr. ĕr-e'mos, lonely. . . . Interfuse: L. interfun'do, interfu'sum, to pour between; fr. inter and fun'do, fu'sum, to pour, to melt; h., con-found, confuse, dif-fuse, ef-fusion, founder (as a ship), fu-sion, in-fuse, pro-fuse, re-fund (lit., to pour back), suf-fuse (suf === sub, under), trans-fuse, etc. . . . Notice: fr. L. nos'co or gnos'co, not'um, to know; h., ac-knowledge, cog-nition, cognizant, ig-noble (for ac-, ap-, cog-, ig-, etc., v. pp. 31, 32, 34), know, noble, note, notion, notorious, re-cog-nize, re-con-noiter (thr. the F.), etc. . . . Recompense: fr. L. re and compen'so, compensa'tum, to compensate; fr. com = con and pen'so, I weigh; fr. pen'do, pen'sum, to cause to hang down; h., pen'deo, pensum, to hang; fr. pen'so are dis-pense, ex-pend, in-dis-pensable, pensive (weighing thoughtfully), pension (something weighed out; h., payment), per-pend (to weigh thoroughly), pre-pense (weighed beforehand, premeditated); fr. pen'deo (I hang) are ap-pend, ap-pendix, de-pend, impend, in-de-pendent, pendant (n.), pendent (adj.), pendulum, per-pendicular, S

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