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The meteor of the ocean air

Shall sweep the clouds no more!

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquish'd foe,
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood,
And waves were white below,-
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
Or know the conquer'd knee;
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!

Oh! better that her shatter'd hulk

Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave:
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail;
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale!

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LESSON XXXVIII.—THAT SILENT MOON.-G. W. DOANE.

[The piece which follows, is intended for practice in 'soft' and subdued 'force'. The voice, in this form of utterance, is meant to be reduced below its average energy, not by mere slackness, or absence of force, but by an intentional reduction of volume, so as to touch the ear delicately, yet vividly, as is naturally done in the expression of an affecting sentiment.]

That silent moon, that silent moon,

Careering now through cloudless sky,
Oh! who shall tell what varied scenes

Have pass'd beneath her placid eye,
Since first, to light this wayward earth,
She walk'd in tranquil beauty forth?
How oft has guilt's unhallow'd hand,

And superstition's senseless rite,
And loud, licentious revelry,

Profaned her pure and holy light!
Small sympathy is hers, I ween,
With sights like these, that virgin queen.

But dear to her, in summer eve,

By rippling wave, or tufted grove,

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When hand in hand is purely clasp'd,
And heart meets heart in holy love,
To smile, in quiet loneliness,
And hear each whisper'd vow, and bless.
Dispersed along the world's wide way,

When friends are far, and fond ones rove,
How powerful she to wake the thought,
And start the tear for those we love,
Who watch, with us at night's pale noon,
And gaze upon that silent moon!

How powerful, too, to hearts that mourn,
The magic of that moonlight sky,
To bring again the vanish'd scenes,

The happy eves of days gone by;
Again to bring, 'inid bursting tears,
The loved, the lost, of other years!

And oft she looks, that silent moon,
On lonely eyes, that wake to weep,
In dungeon dark, or sacred cell,

Or couch, whence pain has banish'd sleep:
Oh! softly beams that gentle eye,

On those who mourn, and those who die.

But beam on whomsoe'er she will,

And fall where'er her splendor may,
There's pureness in her chasten'd light,
There's comfort in her tranquil ray:
What power is hers to soothe the heart,—
What power the trembling tear to start!

The dewy morn let others love,

Or bask them in the noontide ray;
There's not an hour but has its charm,
From dawning light to dying day :-
But oh! be mine a fairer boon,-
That silent moon, that silent moon!

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LESSON XXXIX, EVENING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE.

SILLIMAN.

[This piece is designed for practice in 'moderate force'. The least excess of quantity, or volume of voice, in the reading of such pieces, disturbs the repose, and is at variance with the gentleness, of the scene. At the same time, care should be taken, that the tone do not become lifeless, from want of animation. A quiet but distinct utterance, should be maintained, throughout all such passages.]

From the moment the sun is down, every thing becomes silent on the shore, which our windows overlook; and the murmurs of the broad St. Lawrence, more than two miles wide, immediately before us, and, a little way to the right, 5 spreading to five or six miles in breadth, are sometimes, for an hour, the only sounds that arrest our attention. Every evening since we have been here, black clouds and splendid moonlight have hung over, and embellished this tranquil scene; and, on two of these evenings, we have 10 been attracted to the window, by the plaintive Canadian boat-song. In one instance, it arose from a solitary voyager, floating in his light canoe, which occasionally appeared and disappeared on the sparkling river, and in its distant course seemed no larger than some sportive insect. In 15 another instance, a larger boat, with more numerous and less melodious voices, not, indeed, in perfect harmony, passed nearer to the shore, and gave additional life to the scene. A few moments after, the moon broke out from a throne of dark clouds, and seemed to convert the whole 20 expanse of water into one vast sheet of glittering silver; and, in the very brightest spot, at the distance of more than a mile, again appeared a solitary boat, but too distant to admit of our hearing the song, with which the boatman was probably solacing his lonely course.

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LESSON XL.-AMERICA TO ENGLAND.-W. ALLSTON.

[This piece furnishes an example of the energetic style, which, in elocution, is termed 'declamatory force'. The properties of voice, in the reading and recitation of such passages, may all be designated under the head of 'orotund' utterance,—a deep, full, and resonant tone, pervading the whole; and every note combining the depth of the pectoral' with the smoothness of the 'oral quality'.]

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All hail thou noble land,

Our fathers' native soil!
Oh! stretch thy mighty hand,
Gigantic grown by toil,

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O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore:
For thou, with magic might,
Canst reach to where the light
Of Phoebus travels bright

The world o'er!

The Genius of our clime,
From pine-embattled steep,
Shall hail the great sublime;
While the Tritons of the deep

With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim,
Then let the world combine,-
O'er the main our naval line,
Like the milky-way, shall shine
Bright in fame!

Though ages long have passed
Since our fathers left their home,
Their pilot in the blast,

O'er untravelled seas to roam,

Yet lives the blood of England in our veins !
And shall we not proclaim

That blood of honest fame,
Which no tyranny can tame
By its chains?

While the language, free and bold,
Which the bard of Avon sung,

In which our Milton told

How the vault of heaven rung,

When Satan, blasted, fell with all his host;

While this, with reverence meet,

Ten thousand echoes greet,

From rock to rock repeat

Round our coast;

While the manners, while the arts,

That mould a nation's soul,

Still cling around our hearts,

Between let ocean roll,

Our joint communion breaking with the sun:

Yet, still, from either beach,

The voice of blood shall reach,
More audible than speech,

"We are One!"

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LESSON XLI.-THE AMERICAN EAGLE.-C. W. THOMSON.

[The following piece affords scope for a degree of 'force' beyond that which was exemplified in the preceding lesson. In the second, third, and fourth stanzas, it rises to what is distinguished, in elocution, by the designation of 'empassioned force',—the fullest vehemence of voice, bordering on the shout, and, sometimes, passing into it. This style is found chiefly in lyric poetry; but it is sometimes exemplified in the vehement energy of prose, on exciting occasions ] Bird of the heavens! whose matchless eye Alone can front the blaze of day,

And, wandering through the radiant sky,
Ne'er from the sunlight turns away;
5 Whose ample wing was made to rise
Majestic o'er the loftiest peak,
On whose chill tops the winter skies,
Around thy nest, in tempests, speak,-
What ranger of the winds can dare,
10 Proud mountain king! with thee compare;
Or lift his gaudier plumes on high
Before thy native majesty,

When thou hast ta'en thy seat alone,
Upon thy cloud-encircled throne?

15 Bird of the cliffs! thy noble form

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Might well be thought almost divine;
Born for the thunder and the storm,

The mountain and the rock are thine;
And there, where never foot has been,
Thy eyrie is sublimely hung,
Where low'ring skies their wrath begin,
And loudest lullabies are sung

By the fierce spirit of the blast,
When, his snow mantle o'er him cast,
25 He sweeps across the mountain top,
[II] With a dark fury naught can stop,
And wings his wild unearthly way
Far through the clouded realms of day.

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Bird of the sun! to thee,—to thee

The earliest tints of dawn are known,
And 't is thy proud delight to see

The monarch mount his gorgeous throne;
Throwing the crimson drapery by,

That half impedes his glorious way;
35 And mounting up the radiant sky,
E'en what he is,-the king of day!

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