emotions; in pity, tenderness, and sorrow; and in acute pain, grief and fear. The middle pitch is that of ordinary conversation, and is required in unemotional reading. The pitch becomes lower in proportion to the gravity or solem nity of a passage. I. High Pitch. 1. The wind, one morning, sprang up from sleep, 2. Iò, they come, they come, Strike lyres to greet them hồme, Swell, swell the Dorian flùte Through the blue triumphal sky, 3. Oh! then, I see Queen Màb hath been with you. In shape no bigger than an àgate-stone Drawn by a team of little atomies Athwart men's nòses, as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spinner's legs; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams: 4. On, son of Cimon, bravely òn, and Aristìdes just! Your names have made the field your own, your foes are in the dùst! 5. Hurrah for the sèa! the all-glorious sèa! Its might is so wondrous, its spirit so frèe! And its billows beat time to each pulse of my sòul, II. Middle Pitch. 1. A blind man would know that one was a gentleman and the other a clown by the tones of their vòices. 2. A cobbler at Leyden, who used to attend the public disputations held at the academy, was once asked if he understood Latin. "No," replied the mechanic, "but I know who is wrong in the argument." "How?" inquired his friend. "Why, by seeing who is àngry first.” 3. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at its flood, leads on to fòrtune; Is bound in shallows, and in mìseries: And we must take the current when it sérves, 4. I should say sincèrity, a deep, great, genuine sincèrity, is the first characteristic of all men in any way heròic. Not the sincerity that calls itself sincere; ah! nò, that is a very poor matter indèed; a shallow, bràggart, cònscious sincerity; oftenest self-conceit mainly. The Great Man's sincerity is of the kind he cannot speak of, is not cònscious of. 5. Friend, if some actor murder Hamlet's part, 6. This is the forest primèval! The murmuring pines and the hemlock, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Drùids of èld with voices sad and prophètic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. III. Low Pitch. 1. "Of old hast Thou laid the foundation of the éarth; and the heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall pérish, but Thou shalt endùre; yea, àll of them shall wax old like a gàrment; as a vèsture shalt Thou change them, and they shall be changed: but Thou art the same; and Thy years shall have no ènd." 2. When all thy mercies, O my God, 3. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself The wreck of mátter and the crush of worlds. 4. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed IV. Very Low. 1. Hear the tolling of the bèlls Iron bells! What a world of solemn thòught their monody compels ! In the silence of the night How we shiver with affrìght At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a gròan. 2. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now 3. Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, 4. Hùsh! the dead-march wails in the people's ears, The dark crowd moves, and there are sobs and tèars; The black earth yawns, the mortal disappears! Ashes to ashes, dust to dùst; He is gòne who seemed so great. 5. Still night; and the old church bell hath tolled, With its swinging peal, the passing hòur,— Dolorous now, as it tolled of old From the heart of its quarried tòwer; And it seems to say, As it dies away, The brazen clang of the tremulous bell,— "Old-ōld, weary and ōld;— The heart grows old; for the world is cold,” Solemnly sighs the far-spent knell. VIII. TRANSITION. HE following exercises will be found useful in breaking up THE monotony of style, and in giving a ready command of the voice. The pupil should acquire facility in making the changes of intonation indicated at the margin. The exercise is not without use if practiced merely mechanically; but the true way, in this case as in all others, is for the reader to throw himself in sympathy with the sentiment expressed, that he may spontaneously give the requisite variety of vocal effect independently of the specific directions. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, 1. Soft. And the smooth stream in smoother nùmbers flows; Loud. But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the tòrrent ròar, 2. Slow. When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, The line, too, làbors, and the words move slòw; Quick. Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, 3. Loud. Flies o'er the unbending corn and skims along the main. The combat dèepens. On, ye brave, Soft. Ah! few shall part where many mèet! Shall be a soldier's sèpulcher. 4. Aspi- Lo, dim in the starlight their white tènts appear! rated. Ride sòftly! ride slowly! the onset is near! More slowly! mòre softly! the sentry may hèar! Loud. Now fall on the foe like a tempest of flàme! Strike down the false banner whose triumph were shame! Strike, strike for the true flàg, for freedom and fàme! |