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"Now," said the Abbé, addressing M. Le Roy, and pointing to Grimm with his finger, "there is the nightingale,you are the cuckoo,-and I am the ass who decides in your favour. Good night!"

EXERCISE XXVIII.-ODE TO AN ANCIENT SYCAMORE, ON THE BANKS OF THE OHIO.-Dr. Bird.

[This piece requires, in reading or recitation, the firm tone of grave but lofty sentiment; the utterance full, but softened by awe; the pitch low; movement slow; and pauses long: the whole strain being that of deep musing.]

Rude tree, now gaunt with eld,

Storm-worn and thunder-scarred, without a spray,
Dodder, or moss, or misletoe, to deck

Thine antique nakedness,-majestic wreck

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Of the great wilderness now passed away,-
What tales of blood, of wild and woodland fray,
Lie in thy hollows cell'd,

Haply could'st thou but speak the scenes thou hast beheld!

A monarch in past years,

Thy speckled boughs, though now so leafless, roll'd
Billows of verdure in the summer gust,

And to the swelling river swept, like dust,

Clouds of autumnal tribute, thus, of old,
When the red Shawnee rotted in thy mould,
The grave-yard of his peers,

The Dark and Bloody Ground,-the lonely land of tears.

Yes, at thy root, the roar

Of wrath has sounded, and the death-song woke ;

The tortured Huron, dying at the stake,

Dream'd of his green paths by his surging lake;

Or captive maiden, from the hills of oak

And pine, blue Unikas, beneath the yoke,

Wept her rough play-grounds o'er,

Peaks, vales, and gushing springs, ne'er to be look'd on more.

And here, perhaps, when Boone
Stole from the dusky forest, and, at night,

Gazed on the sweeping river, here he kept
His lonely vigils pleasantly, or slept,

Dreaming the dream of home; and woke with fright,
To conjure yells of Indians on the height,

From the nocturnal tune

Of boding owl or night-hawk, flitting in the moon.

Such scenes as these hast thou
Look'd on, old Sycamore; but ne'er again

Shalt thou behold them ;-from the runlet bed
Beaver and bear, and lapping wolf are fled;

The bison-path is empty, and the den
Of the hill-roaming elk, a place for men.

Up to thy blasted brow

I look with joy and pride, and ask, what seest thou now?

Where is the Wilderness,

That once was wide around thee?—aye, so broad,
That the keen vulture, o'er thee in the air,

Saw not its confines ?-Where the Indians ?-Where
The smoking cabin and the fresh turn'd sod;
Wet with the blood the settler gave to God,-
His purchase and his cess,

For the Elysium lands his sons possess?

Up to thy cloud once more,

Keen vulture! stretch the wing, and scale the sky!
Where is the wilderness ?-adown the steeps
Eastern, the flood of emigration sweeps;
On the North lakes a thousand squadrons ply;
And o'er the Western prairies, where thine eye
Wearies, the smoke-drifts pour,—

Vain search! vain thought!-the Wilderness was but of yore.

Of yore-for, sweetly seen

O'er the smooth tide, thy rotting boughs behold
The magic city,-wall and roof and spire,
Blazing in sunset, and their pictured fire

Glass'd in the river rolling on in gold,

A scene of Heaven! What seest thou, patriarch old,
That view'st the latest scene,-

Ohio sleeping at the footstool of his Queen?

Enough; It is the last

Of all the changes; and thy ruins grim,

But ill beseem the pageant smiling near.

Yet fall not; lift thy mouldering hatchments sere,

Still, for the musing passer. Every limb,
Plunged in the flood, shall tell its tale to him,
Better than trumpet-blast,-

Its legends of the wilderness, its story of the past.

EXERCISE XXIX.-ADDRESS BEFORE THE SOCIETY OF ST. PAT RICK.-Earl Moira.

Spoken March 17th, 1803, in the prospect of a French invasion. [An example of forcible and earnest declamation,-requiring attention to spirited and energetic utterance, throughout.]

I do not mean to allude to the ordinary design of this institution, or that which so peculiarly recommends it as one devoted to charitable purposes. There is something in the present crisis of affairs, so awful; and there is something in the circumstances of this meeting so different from the ordinary course, that it places all other considerations out of the question. It is at a moment like this, that such a meeting is likely to be productive of the most essential advantages. I look, with sanguine expectations, to the effect which will be produced, throughout Ireland, by the sentiments expressed by a meeting so respectably constituted as this is.

I will say, then, let this meeting communicate the tone of its sentiments to the people of Ireland. Although we can come to no resolution, yet the sentiments we shall express will be immediately felt throughout every part of Ireland. I know that the words I utter will carry with them the force and weight which the sanction of this meeting can alone impart.

It is, therefore, as the organ of this meeting, that I would say to the people of Ireland,-Regard the policy of those whom I will not at present call our enemies; but who certainly have endeavoured to throw a cloud over the prosperity of the country. Reflect that the advantages, which they have uniformly held out, have been founded upon the principle of sowing the seeds of dissension among nations. I will say to the people of Ireland, From what has passed, dread the future.

I will say, what have any classes of you, in Ireland, to hope from the French? Is it your property you wish to preserve?-Look to the example of Holland; and see how that nation has preserved its property by an alliance with the French! Is it independence you court?-Look to the example of unhappy Switzerland; see to what a state of

servile abasement that once manly territory has fallen, under France! Is it to the establishment of catholicity that your hopes are directed? The conduct of the First Consul, in subverting the power and authority of the Pope, and cultivating the friendship of the Mussulman in Egypt, under a boast of that subversion, proves the fallacy of such a reliance! Is it civil liberty you require? Look to France itself, crouched under despotism, and groaning beneath a system of slavery, unparalleled by whatever has disgraced or insulted any nation!

Is it possible, then, that any heart matured in the blessed air of Ireland, can look to French protection for happiness? Is it possible there can be one head so organized as not to see from the evidence of facts, for the last few years, that the liberty which the French offer, is but another term for subjection and slavery?

I am not sounding the trumpet of war. There is no man who more sincerely deprecates its calamities, than I do,soldier as I am, and ready to serve my country. Yet, if necessity should force us to the conflict, I trust we shall prove to the audacious foe, that British veins still glow with the same blood which vivified the spirit of our ancestors; and that British bosoms still burn with the same patriotic ardour which actuated them in every former period of their annals.

EXERCISE XXX.-DIALOGUE FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE.Scott.

Speakers,-Roderick Dhu, Douglas, and Malcom Græme:*Positions,-Roderick, in the centre; Douglas, on his left; Malcom, on his right.

[The chief use of dialogue, as regards elocution, is, to inspire appropriate feeling, modulation, and action. The tones, in all dramatic pieces, are much more vivid, than in the language of other forms of writing. Attitude becomes, in reciting dialogue, an important study, as a means of natural and true effect; and manly, spirited, and expressive gesture becomes indispensable to the same result.]

Rod. Short be my speech,-nor time affords,
Nor my plain temper, glozing words.

Kinsman and father, if such name
Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim,

* Pronounced Grame.

And Græme, in whom I hope to know
Full soon a noble friend or foe,
When age shall give thee thy command,
And leading in thy native land,-

List both!-The king's vindictive pride
Boasts to have tamed the Border-side,

Where chiefs, with hound and hawk, who came
To share their monarch's sylvan game,
Themselves in bloody toils were snared;
And when the banquet they prepared,
And wide their loyal portals flung,

O'er their own gate-way struggling hung.-
Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead,
From Yarrow braes, and banks of Tweed,
Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide,
And from the silver Teviot's side;-
The dales, where martial c'ans did ride,
Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide.
This tyrant of the Scottish throne,
So faithless, and so ruthless known,-
Now hither comes; his end the same,
The same pretext of sylvan game.
What grace for Highland chiefs judge ye,
By fate of Border chivalry.

Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green,
Douglas, thy stately form was seen.—
This by espial sure I know:

Your counsel, in the strait I show.

Doug. Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar,

It

may but thunder and pass o'er;

Nor will I here remain an hour,
To draw the lightning on thy bower;
For well thou know'st, at this gray head

The royal bolt were fiercest sped.
For thee, who, at thy king's command,
Canst aid him with a gallant band,
Submission, homage, humbled pride,
Shall turn the monarch's wrath aside.
Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,
Ellen and I, will seek, apart,
The refuge of some forest cell;
There like the hunted quarry, dwell,
Till on the mountain and the moor,
The stern pursuit be passed and o'er.

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