And away, like a spirit, wreathed in light, Thou hurriest wild and free. Thou hurriest over the myriad waves, And thou leavest them all behind. Thou sweepest that place of unknown graves, Fleet as the tempest wind. When the night storm gathers dím and dark, With a shrill and boding scream, Thou rushest by the foundering bark, Quick as a passing dream. Lord of the boundless realm of aír, In thy impérial name, The hearts of the bold and ardent dare The dangerous path of fame. Beneath the shade of thy golden wings, The Roman legions bore From the river of Égypt's cloudy springs, For thee they fought, for thee they fell, And the dying warrior prayed. Thou wert thro' an age of death and fears, The image of pride and power; Till the gathered rage of a thousand years And then a deluge of wrath it came, And the nations shook with dread; And it swept the earth till its fields were flame And piled with the mingled dead. were rolled in the wasteful flood, Kings were With the low and crouching slave. And together lay, in a shroud of blood, The coward and the brave. And where was then thy fearless flight? "O'er the dark mysterious sea; To the lands that caught the setting light The cradle of Liberty! There on the silent and lonely shore, For ages I watch'd alone; And the world in its darkness asked no more "But then came a bold and hardy few, And up to heav'n, like a joyous lark, “And now that bold and hardy few Are a nation wide and strong; And danger and doubt I have led them through, And they worship me in song; And over their bright and glancing arms, On field, and lake, and sea, With an eye that fires, and a spell that charms, SPRING.-N. P. WILLIS. THE spring is here, the delicate-footed Máy, Wasting in wood-paths its voluptuous hours; Restless to soar above these perishing things. We pass out from the city's feverish hum, To find refreshment in the silent woods; And nature, that is beautiful and dumb, Like a cool sleep upon the pulses broods; Yet, even there, a restless thought will steal, To teach the índolent heart it still must feel. Strange that the audible stillness of the noon, There is no contentment in a world like this, THE CLIME OF THE EAST.-BYRON. KNOW Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clíme, ye the land of the cedar and vine Where the flowers ever blossom, the leaves ever shine; Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul* in her bloom; * Gul, the Rose. And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky, And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, 'Tis the clíme of the East,-'tis the land of the sun! Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. The exercise in Intonation serves also for an exercise in Blank Verse; and the next Exercise contains some other varieties of metrical arrangement. 3. EXERCISE IN EXPRESSION. I have chosen the following well-known and beautiful ode, as the vehicle of instruction, and as a particular Exercise in Expression, although quite familiar to the reader, as a composition, because it affords great scope for transition of pitch, variation of force, and change of time, in accordance with the varied action and quality of the personification of each individual passion. It is in these transitions and variations that the main beauty of the ode lies; and on the marking of them distinctly, depends the effect in delivery. The ode is also a good practice in rhythmical reading, from the variety as well as polish of the versification. |