2. The trumpet's loud clangor
Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of anger

And mortal alarms.

The double, double, double beat
Of the thundering drum

Cries, "Hark! the foes come;

Charge, charge! 'tis too late to retreat!"

"Song for Saint Cecilia's Day."

JOHN DRYDEN.

3. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sound of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.

There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st
But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we can not hear it. "Merchant of Venice."

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

4. The waves were white and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
And the whale it whistled, the porpoise roll'd,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outery wild

As welcom'd to life the ocean-child!

I've lived since then, in calm and strife,

Full fifty summers a sailor's life,

With wealth to spend and a power to range,

But never have sought nor sigh'd for change;
And Death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wild, unbounded sea!

"The Sailor's Song."

B. W. PROCTER.

5. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman 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:

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower,

The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
"Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard."

6. She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

THOMAS GRAY.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thought serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

"She Walks in Beauty."

LORD BYRON.

SEVENTEENTH LESSON

PART 1. DRILL

1. Physical Culture. Bend the hands quickly at the wrists, first at the sides, then at the horizontal position at the sides and front, and finally overhead.

2. Deep Breathing. Inhale a deep breath quickly and silently through the nostrils. Hold the breath a moment, then exhale quickly and silently through the mouth.

3. Voice Exercise. To overcome the common fault of nasality, first close the nostrils with the thumb and forefinger, and pronounce with great nasality the words "I go, so fare thee well!" While still holding the nostrils closed, repeat the words in pure, clear tone. This exercise will give intelligent control of pure musical quality of voice.

4. Articulation. First give separately and vigorously the sounds underlined, then the combination as a whole, after which pronounce the word which follows, bringing out the combination very clearly:

PART 2. EXPRESSION

FERVOR

The reader is concerned in expressing not only thought but feeling. If the student is habitually undemonstrative, he will find this lesson of particular value in developing his resources of feeling. Every person has more or less emotion, but it must be controlled before it can be intelligently and effectively used in speech. Plato calls the passions the wings of the soul. In the proper expression of the emotions three things are involved, viz.: the tones of the voice, the appearance of the face, and the gestures or action. The language of the passions, as written by the hand of Nature, is a study by itself. The passages hereunder are first to be analyzed closely, with the object of finding out the underlying feeling in each, and then of interpreting that feeling in reading aloud.

EXAMPLES FOR PRACTISE

1. Without our hopes, without our fears,

Without the home that plighted love endears,
Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Oh! what were man?-a world without a sun.
"Pleasures of Hope."

2. Sharp violins proclaim

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

Their jealous pangs and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,

Depth of pains and height of passion

For the fair, disdainful dame.

"Song for Saint Cecilia's Day."

JOHN DRYDEN.

3. The morn is up again, the dewy morn,

With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,

And living as if earth contained no tomb,
And glowing into day.

"Childe Harold."

LORD BYRON.

4. The cataract strong then plunges along,
Striking and raging, as if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among; rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping, swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing, flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing, eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking, turning and twisting,
Around and around with endless rebound!
Smiting and fighting, a sight to delight in;
Confound, astounding, dizzying, and deafening
The ear with its sound.

"The Cataract of Lodore."

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

5. Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah hath triumphed-His people are free.

Sing for the pride of the tyrant is broken,
His chariots and horsemen, all splendid and brave,
How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken,
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah hath triumphed-His people are free.

Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord!
His word was the arrow, His breath was our sword!
Who shall return to tell Egypt the story

Of those she sent forth in the power of her pride?

For the Lord hath looked out from His pillar of glory, And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide.

Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah hath triumphed-His people are free. "Miriam's Song."

THOMAS MOORE.