Chapter XIV: Act III: Scene 2 (1)

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus; but use all gently: for in the very 5 torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, 10 who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb-shows and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it.

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion 15 be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror 20 up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now, this overdone or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one 25 must, in your allowance, o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that neither having the accent of Christains nor the gait of Christain, pagan, nor man, have so 30 strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

--_Shakespeare_

MOUTH, TOWN-CRIER, TAME, JOURNEYMEN. Why are these words
emphatic? (Introduction, p. 30.)

Explain FROM THE PURPOSE OF PLAYING, COME TARDY OFF, THE
CENSURE OF THE WHICH ... OTHERS. What are the emphatic
words in each?

TORRENT, TEMPEST, WHIRLWIND. Observe the Climax.

Give other examples of Climax from this selection and
show how the Emphasis is employed. (Introduction, p.
31.)

Select parenthetical clauses and show how they are
subordinated. (Introduction, p. 24.)

Read the last two sentences with a view to Perspective.
(Introduction, p. 33.)

* * * * *

ROSABELLE

From "The Lay of the Last Minstrel"

O listen, listen, ladies gay!
No haughty feat of arms I tell;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.

"Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew!
And, gentle ladye, deign to stay!
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.

"The blackening wave is edged with white;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is =nigh=.

"Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch;
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?"--

"'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball,
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.

"'Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide
If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle."--

O'er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;
'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light,
And redder than the bright moonbeam.

It glared on Roslin's castled rock,
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.

Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud,
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie,
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.

Seem'd all on fire within, around,
Deep sacristy and altar's pale;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound,
And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.

Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair--
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high Saint Clair.

There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle;
Each one the holy vault doth hold--
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle!

And each Saint Clair was buried there
With candle, with book, and with knell;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle!

--_Sir Walter Scott_

PREPARATORY.--Describe the scene suggested by the first
stanza.

Make three scenes of the rest of the poem, and give a
descriptive title to each.

Articulation. (Appendix A, 1, 3, and 6.)

Stanza i. How is the ellipsis in l. 3 indicated?

Stanza ii. What is the difference between the way the
speaker addresses the crew and that in which he
addresses the lady?

Stanzas iii-iv. How does the reader make prominent the
four different arguments of the speaker in ll. 9-15, at
the same time showing that each is a stronger warning
than the last? (Introduction, pp. 24, 25, and 31.)

Stanzas v-vi. What is the Inflection on the negative
statements in the first two lines of each stanza?

Stanzas vii-xi. What feeling pervades the description of
the ominous light over Roslyn? What Quality of voice is
the natural outcome? (Introduction, p. 34.)

What are the central ideas in stanzas vii, ix, and x?

How is the break in the thought after FAIR, (stanza xi)
shown? (Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)

Stanzas xii-xiii. What phrases contrast the burial of
the Saint Clairs with that of Rosabelle? What contrast
of feeling?

* * * * *

THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS

December, 1697

The Rhine is running deep and red, the island lies before,--
"Now is there one of all the host will dare to venture o'er?
For not alone the river's sweep might make a brave man quail;
The foe are on the further side, their shot comes fast as hail.
God help us, if the middle isle we may not hope to win; 5
Now is there any of the host will dare to venture in?"
"The ford is deep, the banks are steep, the island-shore lies wide;
Nor man nor horse could stem its force, or reach the further side.
See there! amidst the willow-boughs the serried bayonets gleam;
They've flung their bridge,--they've won the isle; the foe have
cross'd the stream! 10
Their volley flashes sharp and strong,--by all the saints! I trow
There never yet was soldier born could force that passage now!"

So spoke the bold French Mareschal with him who led the van,
Whilst rough and red before their view the turbid river ran.
Nor bridge nor boat had they to cross the wild and swollen Rhine, 15
And thundering on the other bank far stretch'd the German line.
Hard by there stood a swarthy man was leaning on his sword,
And a sadden'd smile lit up his face as he heard the Captain's word.
"I've seen a wilder stream ere now than that which rushes there;
I've stemm'd a heavier torrent yet and never thought to dare. 20
If German steel be sharp and keen, is ours not strong and true?
There may be danger in the deed, but there is honour too."

The old lord in his saddle turn'd, and hastily he said,
"Hath bold Duguesclin's fiery heart awaken'd from the dead?
Thou art the leader of the Scots,--now well and sure I know, 25
That gentle blood in dangerous hour ne'er yet ran cold nor slow,
And I have seen ye in the fight do all that mortal may:
If honour is the boon ye seek, it may be won this day,--
The prize is in the middle isle, there lies the adventurous way,
And armies twain are on the plain, the daring deed to see,-- 30
Now ask thy gallant company if they will follow thee!"

Right gladsome look'd the Captain then, and nothing did he say,
But he turn'd him to his little band, O, few, I ween, were they!
The relics of the bravest force that ever fought in fray.
No one of all that company but bore a gentle name, 35
Not one whose fathers had not stood in Scotland's fields of fame.
All they had march'd with great Dundee to where he fought and fell,
And in the deadly battle-strife had venged their leader well;
And they had bent the knee to earth when every eye was dim,
As o'er their hero's buried corpse they sang the funeral hymn; 40
And they had trod the Pass once more, and stoop'd on either side.
To pluck the heather from the spot where he had dropp'd and died;
And they had bound it next their hearts, and ta'en a last farewell
Of Scottish earth and Scottish sky, where Scotland's glory fell.
Then went they forth to foreign lands like bent and broken men, 45
Who leave their dearest hope behind, and may not turn again.

"The stream," he said, "is broad and deep, and stubborn is
the foe,--
Yon island-strength is guarded well,--say, brothers, will ye go?
From home and kin for many a year our steps have wander'd wide,
And never may our bones be laid our fathers' graves beside. 50
No children have we to lament, no wives to wail our fall;
The traitor's and the spoiler's hand have reft our hearths of all.
But we have hearts, and we have arms, as strong to will and dare
As when our ancient banners flew within the northern air.
Come, brothers! let me name a spell shall rouse your souls again, 55
And send the old blood bounding free through pulse and heart
and vein.
Call back the days of bygone years,--be young and strong once more;
Think yonder stream, so stark and red, is one we've cross'd before.

Rise, hill and glen! rise, crag and wood! rise up on either hand,--
Again upon the Garry's banks, on Scottish soil we stand! 60
Again I see the tartans wave, again the trumpets ring;
Again I hear our leader's call: 'Upon them for the King!'
Stay'd we behind that glorious day for roaring flood or linn?
The soul of Graeme is with us still,--now, brothers, will ye in?"

No stay,--no pause. With one accord, they grasp'd each
other's hand, 65
Then plunged into the angry flood, that bold and dauntless band.
High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore,
Midst cheer, and shout, and answering yell, and shot,
and cannon-roar,--
"Now, by the Holy Cross! I swear, since earth and sea began,
Was never such a daring deed essay'd by mortal man!" 70
Thick blew the smoke across the stream, and faster flash'd
the flame:
The water plash'd in hissing jets as ball and bullet came.
Yet onward push'd the Cavaliers all stern and undismay'd,
With thousand armed foes before, and none behind to aid
Once, as they near'd the middle stream, so strong
the torrent swept, 75
That scarce that long and living wall their dangerous footing kept.
Then rose a warning cry behind, a joyous shout before:
"The current's strong,--the way is long,--they'll never reach
the shore!
See, see! they stagger in the midst, they waver in their line!
Fire on the madmen! break their ranks, and whelm them
in the Rhine!" 80

Have you seen the tall trees swaying when the blast is sounding
shrill,
And the whirlwind reels in fury down the gorges of the hill?
How they toss their mighty branches struggling with
the tempest's shock;
How they keep their place of vantage, cleaving firmly to the rock?
Even so the Scottish warriors held their own against the river; 85
Though the water flashed around them, not an eye was seen to quiver;
Though the shot flew sharp and deadly, not a man relax'd his hold;
For their hearts were big and thrilling with the mighty thoughts
of old.
One word was spoken among them, and through the ranks it spread,--
"Remember our dead Claverhouse!" was all the Captain said. 90
Then, sternly bending forward, they wrestled on a while,
Until they clear'd the heavy stream, then rush'd toward the isle.

The German heart is stout and true, the German arm is strong;
The German foot goes seldom back where armed foemen throng.
But never had they faced in field so stern a charge before, 95
And never had they felt the sweep of Scotland's broad claymore.
Not fiercer pours the avalanche adown the steep incline,
That rises o'er the parent springs of rough and rapid Rhine,--
Scarce swifter shoots the bolt from heaven than came
the Scottish band
Right up against the guarded trench, and o'er it sword in hand. 100
In vain their leaders forward press,--they meet the deadly brand!

O lonely island of the Rhine,--where seed was never sown,
What harvest lay upon thy sands, by those strong reapers thrown?
What saw the winter moon that night, as, struggling through
the rain,
She pour'd a wan and fitful light on marsh, and stream,
and plain? 105
A dreary spot with corpses strewn, and bayonets glistening round;
A broken bridge, a stranded boat, a bare and batter'd mound;
And one huge watch-fire's kindled pile, that sent its
quivering glare
To tell the leaders of the host the conquering Scots were there.

And did they twine the laurel-wreath, for those who fought
so well? 110
And did they honour those who liv'd, and weep for those who fell?
What meed of thanks was given to them let aged annals tell.
Why should they bring the laurel-wreath,--why crown the cup
with wine?
It was not Frenchmen's blood that flow'd so freely on the Rhine,--
A stranger band of beggar'd men had done the venturous deed: 115
The glory was to France alone, the danger was their meed.
And what cared they for idle thanks from foreign prince and peer?
What virtue had such honey'd words the exiled heart to cheer?
What matter'd it that men should vaunt and loud and fondly swear,

That higher feat of chivalry was never wrought elsewhere? 120
They bore within their breasts the grief that fame
can never heal,--
The deep, unutterable woe which none save exiles feel.
Their hearts were yearning for the land they ne'er might
see again,--
For Scotland's high and heather'd hills, for mountains,
loch and glen--
For those who haply lay at rest beyond the distant sea, 125
Beneath the green and daisied turf where they would gladly be!

Long years went by. The lonely isle in Rhine's tempestuous flood
Has ta'en another name from those who bought it with their blood:
And, though the legend does not live,--for legends lightly die--
The peasant, as he sees the stream in winter rolling by, 130
And foaming o'er its channel-bed between him and the spot
Won by the warriors of the sword, still calls that deep
and dangerous ford
The Passage of the Scot.

--_William Edmondstoune Aytoun_

PREPARATORY.--Narrate briefly the events of this poem,
and show by a blackboard diagram the situation of the
island, the position of the armies, etc.

Into how many dramatic scenes can the poem be divided?
Describe each one, showing what part of the poem it
covers.

For exercise in dramatic rendering, see notes on
_Highland Hospitality_, pp. 153 and 154.

In what state of mind are the first two speakers?
Compare their speeches in this respect with the first
speech of the Scottish Captain--"I'VE SEEN A WILDER,"
ETC. What is the difference in Time, Pitch, and Stress?

3. RIVER'S SWEEP, FOE. Which is more emphatic? Compare
MAN and HORSE, l. 8.

10-12. Give some examples of Climax in the second stanza
and show how the Force and the Pitch are affected.

24. "HATH BOLD DUGUESCLIN'S," ETC. Supply the
undercurrent of thought between the first line of this
speech and the second. How is this suggested in reading?
(Introduction, p. 14.)

33. HE TURNED HIM TO HIS LITTLE BAND--O FEW, ETC. How
can the break in the thought be indicated?
(Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)

33-46. O FEW I WEEN ... NOT TURN AGAIN. What two
feelings predominate?

Compare the first part of the Captain's speech with the
second part from the standpoint of energy. What is the
difference in Force and Pitch? (Introduction, pp. 23 and
26.)

65. NO STAY,--NO PAUSE, ETC. What part does spontaneous
Imitation play here, and in the following stanza?
(Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)

69. NOW, BY THE HOLY CROSS! ETC. Where should the
longest Pause be made in this line?

78. THE CURRENT'S STRONG, ETC. What are the Pitch,
Force, and Stress? (Introduction, pp. 22, 26, and 29.)

93. THE GERMAN HEART, ETC. Emphasis. (Introduction, p.
31.)

96. AND NEVER HAD THEY FELT, ETC. Note Grouping and
Pause.

99. SCARCE SWIFTER, ETC. What is the Stress? Why?
(Introduction, p. 28.)

101. IN VAIN. Note the transition at this line.
(Introduction, pp. 8, 9, and 25.)

113. WHY SHOULD THEY BRING, ETC. How does the voice
indicate the insincerity of thought in these lines?
(Introduction, pp. 21, 22, and 30.)

What Inflection is used on the various questions in this
and the preceding stanzas? (Introduction, pp. 18 and
19.)

127-133. Note the Grouping and the Shading.
(Introduction, p. 33.)

* * * * *

CRANFORD SOCIETY

From "Cranford"

In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazons; all the holders of houses above a certain rent are women. If a married couple come to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears; he is either fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the Cranford evening parties, or he is accounted for by being with his regiment, his ship, or closely engaged in business all the week in the great neighbouring commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty miles on a railway. In short, whatever does become of the gentlemen, they are not at Cranford. What could they do if they were there? The surgeon has his round of thirty miles, and sleeps at Cranford; but every man cannot be a surgeon. For keeping the trim gardens full of choice flowers without a weed to speck them; for frightening away little boys who look wistfully at the said flowers through the railings; for rushing out at the geese that occasionally venture into the gardens if the gates are left open; for deciding all questions of literature and politics without troubling themselves with unnecessary reasons or arguments; for obtaining clear and correct knowledge of everybody's affairs in the parish; for keeping their neat maidservants in admirable order; for kindness (somewhat dictatorial) to the poor, and real tender good offices to each other whenever they are in distress--the ladies of Cranford are quite sufficient. "A man," as one of them observed to me once, "is _so_ in the way in the house!" Although the ladies of Cranford know all each other's proceedings, they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions. Indeed, as each has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity, pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation; but, somehow, good-will reigns among them to a considerable degree.

Then there were rules and regulations for visiting and calls; and they were announced to any young people who might be staying in the town, with all the solemnity with which the old Manx laws were read once a year on the Tinwald Mount.

"Our friends have sent to inquire how you are after your journey to-night, my dear" (fifteen miles in a gentleman's carriage). "They will give you some rest to-morrow; but the next day, I have no doubt, they will call; so be at liberty after twelve--from twelve to three are our calling hours."

Then, after they had called--

"It is the third day, I dare say your mamma has told you, my dear, never to let more than three days elapse between receiving a call and returning it; and also, that you are never to stay longer than a quarter of an hour."

"But am I to look at my watch? How am I to find out when a quarter of an hour has passed?"

"You must keep thinking about the time, my dear, and not allow yourself to forget it in conversation."

As everybody had this rule in their minds, whether they received or paid a call, of course no absorbing subject was ever spoken about. We kept ourselves to short sentences of small talk, and were punctual to our time.

I imagine that a few of the gentlefolks of Cranford were poor, and had some difficulty in making both ends meet; but they were like the Spartans, and concealed their smart under a smiling face. We none of us spoke of money, because that subject savoured of commerce and trade; and though some might be poor, we were all aristocratic. The Cranfordians had that kindly _esprit de corps_ which made them overlook all deficiencies in success when some among them tried to conceal their poverty. When Mrs. Forrester, for instance, gave a party in her baby-house of a dwelling, and the little maiden disturbed the ladies on the sofa by a request that she might get the tea-tray out from underneath, every one took this novel proceeding as the most natural thing in the world, and talked on about household forms and ceremonies as if we all believed that our hostess had a regular servants' hall, second table, with house-keeper and steward, instead of the one little charity-school maiden, whose short ruddy arms could never have been strong enough to carry the tray upstairs, if she had not been assisted in private by her mistress, who now sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes.

There were one or two consequences arising from this general but unacknowledged poverty, and this very much acknowledged gentility, which were not amiss, and which might be introduced into many circles of society to their great improvement. For instance, the inhabitants of Cranford kept early hours, and clattered home in their pattens, under the guidance of a lantern-bearer, about nine o'clock at night; and the whole town was abed and asleep by half-past ten. Moreover, it was considered "vulgar" (a tremendous word in Crawford) to give anything expensive, in the way of eatable or drinkable, at the evening entertainments. Wafer bread-and-butter and sponge-biscuits were all that the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson gave; and she was sister-in-law to the late Earl of Glenmire, although she did practise such "elegant economy."

"Elegant economy!" How naturally one falls back into the phraseology of Cranford! There, economy was always "elegant," and money-spending always "vulgar and ostentatious;" a sort of sour-grapeism which made us very peaceful and satisfied. I never shall forget the dismay felt when a certain Captain Brown came to live at Cranford, and openly spoke about his being poor--not in a whisper to an intimate friend, the doors and windows being previously closed, but in the public street, in a loud military voice, alleging his poverty as a reason for not taking a particular house. The ladies of Cranford were already rather moaning over the invasion of their territories by a man and a gentleman. He was a half-pay captain, and had obtained some situation on a neighbouring railway, which had been vehemently petitioned against by the little town; and if, in addition to his masculine gender, and his connection with the obnoxious railway, he was so brazen as to talk of being poor--why, then, indeed, he must be sent to Coventry. Death was as true and as common as poverty; yet people never spoke about that loud out in the streets. It was a word not to be mentioned to ears polite. We had tacitly agreed to ignore that any with whom we associated on terms of visiting equality could ever be prevented by poverty from doing anything that they wished. If we walked to or from a party, it was because the night was _so_ fine, or the air _so_ refreshing, not because sedan-chairs were expensive. If we wore prints instead of summer silks, it was because we preferred a washing material; and so on, till we blinded ourselves to the vulgar fact that we were, all of us, people of very moderate means. Of course, then, we did not know what to make of a man who could speak of poverty as if it was not a disgrace. Yet, somehow, Captain Brown made himself respected in Cranford, and was called upon, in spite of all resolutions to the contrary.

--_Mrs. Gaskell_

Give examples of momentary completeness in the second
and sixth sentences of Par. 1. (Introduction, p. 16.)

What Inflection is placed on the Interrogative sentence
in Par. 1? (Introduction, p. 19.)

Select words throughout the lesson which are emphatic
through contrast and tell what Inflection is placed on
them. (Introduction, pp. 20 and 21.)

How are the parenthetical clauses kept in the
background? (Introduction, p. 24.)

WHEN MRS FORRESTER ... SPONGE-CAKES. Account for the
Inflection on the various phrases and clauses of this
sentence.

THOUGH SHE KNEW, AND WE KNEW, AND SHE KNEW THAT WE KNEW.
Explain the Emphasis. (Introduction, pp. 30-32.)

* * * * *

SIR GALAHAD

My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.
The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, 5
The hard brands shiver on the steel,
The splinter'd spear-shafts crack and fly,
The horse and rider reel:
They reel, they roll in clanging lists,
And when the tide of combat stands, 10
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
That lightly rain from ladies' hands.

How sweet are looks that ladies bend
On whom their favours fall!
For them I battle till the end, 15
To save from shame and thrall:
But all my heart is drawn above,
My knees are bow'd in crypt and shrine:
I never felt the kiss of love,
Nor maiden's hand in mine. 20
More bounteous aspects on me beam,
Me mightier transports move and thrill;
So keep I fair thro' faith and prayer
A virgin heart in work and will.

When down the stormy crescent goes, 25
A light before me swims,
Between dark stems the forest glows,
I hear a noise of hymns:
Then by some secret shrine I ride;
I hear a voice but none are there; 30
The stalls are void, the doors are wide,
The tapers burning fair.
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth,
The silver vessels sparkle clean,
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 35
And solemn chaunts resound between.

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres
I find a magic bark;
I leap on board: no helmsman steers:
I float till all is dark. 40
A gentle sound, an awful light!
Three angels bear the Holy Grail;
With folded feet, in stoles of white,
On sleeping wings they sail.
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! 45
My spirit beats her mortal bars,
As down dark tides the glory slides,
And star-like mingles with the stars.

When on my goodly charger borne
Thro' dreaming towns I go, 50
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn,
The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads,
And, ringing, springs from brand and mail;
But o'er the dark a glory spreads, 55
And gilds the driving hail.
I leave the plain, I climb the height;
No branchy thicket shelter yields;
But blessed forms in whistling storms
Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields. 60

A maiden knight--to me is given
Such hope, I know not fear;
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven
That often meet me here.
I muse on joy that will not cease. 65
Pure spaces clothed in living beams,
Pure lilies of eternal peace,
Whose odours haunt my dreams;
And, stricken by an angel's hand,
This mortal armour that I wear, 70
This weight and size, this heart and eyes,
Are touch'd, are turn'd to finest air.

The clouds are broken in the sky,
And thro' the mountain-walls
A rolling organ-harmony 75
Swells up, and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod,
Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
"O just and faithful knight of God!
Ride on! the prize is near." 80
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
Until I find the Holy Grail.

--_Alfred Tennyson_

PREPARATORY.--Point out the contrast of scene in stanza
i. How has the poet obtained contrast of sound? Note the
difficulties of Articulation.

Enumerate the manifestations by means of which Sir
Galahad apprehends the continual proximity of the Holy
Grail.

Select the lines in which the mystical element is most
strongly marked. What feeling is aroused in reading
these lines?

In what Quality of voice does this feeling find
expression? (Introduction, p. 34.)

What is the prevailing Quality of voice?

A ROLLING ORGAN-HARMONY, ETC. What idea predominates?
How does it affect the Quality of voice?

* * * * *

SONG FOR SAINT CECILIA'S DAY

November 22, 1687

From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This universal frame began;
When Nature underneath a heap
Of jarring atoms lay,
And could not heave her head, 5
The tuneful voice was heard from high,
Arise ye more than dead.
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,
In order to their stations leap,
And Music's power obey. 10
From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
This universal frame began;
From harmony to harmony
Through all the compass of the notes it ran,
The diapason closing full in Man. 15

What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
When Jubal struck the chorded shell,
His listening brethren stood around,
And, wondering, on their faces fell
To worship that celestial sound; 20
Less than a God they thought there could not dwell
Within the hollow of that shell,
That spoke so sweetly and so well.
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?

The trumpet's loud clangour 25
Excites us to arms
With shrill notes of anger
And mortal alarms.
The double double double beat
Of the thundering drum 30
Cries, Hark! the foes come;
Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!

The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers, 35
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.
Sharp violins proclaim
Their jealous pangs and desperation,
Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of passion 40
For the fair, disdainful dame.

But oh! what art can teach,
What human voice can reach
The sacred organ's praise?
Notes inspiring holy love, 45
Notes that wing their heavenly ways
To mend the choirs above.

Orpheus could lead the savage race,
And trees unrooted left their place,
Sequacious of the lyre: 50
But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:
When to her organ vocal breath was given
An angel heard, and straight appear'd
Mistaking Earth for Heaven.

GRAND CHORUS

As from the power of sacred lays 55
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the blessed above;
So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour, 60
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky.

--_John Dryden_

What feeling pervades the first and last stanzas? The
second stanza? In what Quality of voice does each of
these feelings find expression? (Introduction, pp.
33-35.)

Illustrate by means of the third, fourth, and fifth
stanzas the extent to which Imitation enters into
reading. (Introduction, pp. 4 and 5.)

Account for the gradually increasing Emphasis in ll.
11-15, 48-54, and 60-63. (Introduction, p. 31.)

3-6. What is the Shading and Inflection? (Introduction,
pp. 16 and 33.) Compare with these ll. 55-61.

16. What is the Inflection on this question?
(Introduction, p. 19.) Compare with this ll. 42-44.

21. THEY THOUGHT. How does the reader give to these
words the force of a parenthetical clause?
(Introduction, p. 33.)

22-23. Note the Grouping.

31. How does the voice make the transition to direct
discourse? (Introduction, p. 24.)

42-54. What is the mental attitude? What is the
corresponding Stress? (Introduction, p. 29.)

44. ORGAN'S. Account for the marked Emphasis on this
word. Compare BRIGHT CECILIA, l. 51.

* * * * *

THE DAY WAS LINGERING

The day was lingering in the pale northwest,
And night was hanging o'er my head,--
Night where a myriad stars were spread;
While down in the east, where the light was least,
Seem'd the home of the quiet dead. 5
And, as I gazed on the field sublime,
To watch the bright, pulsating stars,
Adown the deep where the angels sleep
Came drawn the golden chime
Of those great spheres that sound the years 10
For the horologe of time.
Millenniums numberless they told,
Millenniums a million-fold
From the ancient hour of prime.

--_Charles Heavysege_

PREPARATORY.--Compare other passages from literature
which suggest the "music of the spheres," for example:
Dryden's _Song for Saint Cecilia's Day, The Moonlight
Scene_ from _The Merchant of Venice_, Milton's _The
Hymn_.

What is the atmosphere of ll. 1-4? Of ll. 5-14? In what
two different Qualities of voice do the corresponding
feelings find expression?

Read ll. 6-11, with a view to Perspective.

Note the Grouping in ll. 9-11.

* * * * *

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER

Much have I travelled in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been,
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told 5
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet never did I breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken; 10
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific--and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise--
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

--_John Keats_

PREPARATORY.--How is the fundamental idea of this sonnet
illustrated in _The Key to Human Happiness?_ (p. 266.)

What feeling pervades the last six lines? In which line
is this feeling most marked? In what Quality of voice
does it find expression? (Introduction, pp. 33-35.)

Select the words which are emphatic through contrast,
expressed or implied. (Introduction, p. 32.)

* * * * *

GREAT THINGS WERE NE'ER BEGOTTEN IN AN HOUR

Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour;
Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;
And he who dareth, in the noble strife
Of intellects, to cope for real power,--
Such as God giveth as His rarest dower 5
Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,--
Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lower
Till the long shadows of the night arrive,
Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,
Plucked from green boughs, soon wither; those that last 10
Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noon
And summer's fiery glare in vain are past.
Life is the hour of labour; on Earth's breast
Serene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.

--_Sir Daniel Wilson (By permission)_

PREPARATORY.--What is the essential thought in this
sonnet? Quote corresponding passages. Give illustrations
from history and fiction.

What words are emphatic because of (_a_) contrast
expressed, (_b_) contrast implied? (Introduction, pp. 30
and 32.)

Read ll. 3-9, with a view to Perspective. (Introduction,
p. 33.)

* * * * *

A WOOD LYRIC

Into the stilly woods I go,
Where the shades are deep and the wind-flowers blow,
And the hours are dreamy and lone and long,
And the power of silence is greater than song.
Into the stilly woods I go, 5
Where the leaves are cool and the wind-flowers blow.

When I go into the stilly woods,
And know all the flowers in their sweet, shy hoods,
The tender leaves in their shimmer and sheen
Of darkling shadow, diaphanous green, 10
In those haunted halls where my footstep falls,
Like one who enters cathedral walls,
A spirit of beauty floods over me,
As over a swimmer the waves of the sea,
That strengthens and glories, refreshens and fills, 15
Till all mine inner heart wakens and thrills
With a new and a glad and a sweet delight,
And a sense of the infinite out of sight,
Of the great unknown that we may not know,
But only feel with an inward glow 20
When into the great, glad woods we go.

O life-worn brothers, come with me
Into the wood's hushed sanctity,
Where the great, cool branches are heavy with June,
And the voices of summer are strung in tune; 25
Come with me, O heart out-worn,
Or spirit whom life's brute-struggles have torn,
Come, tired and broken and wounded feet,
Where the walls are greening, the floors are sweet,
The roofs are breathing and heaven's airs meet. 30
Come, wash earth's grievings from out of the face,
The tear and the sneer and the warfare's trace,
Come, where the bells of the forest are ringing,
Come, where the oriole's nest is swinging,
Where the brooks are foaming in amber pools, 35
The mornings are still and the noonday cools.
Cast off earth's sorrows and know what I know,
When into the glad, deep woods I go.

--_William Wilfred Campbell (By permission)_

PREPARATORY.--"An Afternoon alone in the Woods." Tell
what one may see, and think, and feel. Illustrate by
quotations from the poets.

Give numerous examples of momentary completeness
throughout the poem. (Introduction, p. 16.)

How does the reader show that ll. 7-12 are merely
anticipative? (Introduction, p. 17.)

What change is made in the Force in l. 13?
(Introduction, p. 33.)

How is l. 15 connected with l. 13?

Observe the transition from description to appeal in l.
22. What is the change in vocal expression?

* * * * *

TO NIGHT

Swiftly walk over the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, 5
Which make thee terrible and dear,--
Swift be thy flight!

Wrap thy form in a mantle gray,
Star-inwrought!
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day, 10
Kiss her until she be wearied out,
Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand--
Come, long-sought!

When I arose and saw the dawn, 15
I sighed for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turned to his rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest, 20
I sighed for thee.

Thy brother Death came, and cried,
Wouldst thou me?
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmured like a noontide bee 25
Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me?--And I replied,
No, not thee!

Death will come when thou art dead,
Soon, too soon-- 30
Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night--
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Come soon, soon! 35

--_Percy Bysshe Shelley_

* * * * *

THE OPENING SCENE AT THE TRIAL OF WARREN HASTINGS

From "Essay on Warren Hastings"

On the 13th of February, 1788, the sittings of the Court commenced. There have been spectacles more dazzling to the eye, more gorgeous with jewelry and cloth of gold, more attractive to grown-up children, than that which was then exhibited at Westminster; but, perhaps, there never was a spectacle so well calculated to strike a highly cultivated, a reflecting, an imaginative mind. All the various kinds of interest which belong to the near and to the distant, to the present and to the past, were collected on one spot and in one hour. All the talents and all the accomplishments which are developed by liberty and civilization were now displayed with every advantage that could be derived both from co-operation and from contrast. Every step in the proceedings carried the mind either backward, through many troubled centuries, to the days when the foundations of our constitution were laid; or far away, over boundless seas and deserts, to dusky nations living under strange stars, worshipping strange gods, and writing strange characters from right to left. The High Court of Parliament was to sit, according to forms handed down from the days of the Plantagenets, on an Englishman accused of exercising tyranny over the lord of the holy city of Benares and over the ladies of the princely house of Oude.

The place was worthy of such a trial. It was the great hall of William Rufus, the hall which had resounded with acclamations at the inauguration of thirty kings, the hall which had witnessed the just sentence of Bacon and the just absolution of Somers, the hall where the eloquence of Strafford had for a moment awed and melted a victorious party inflamed with just resentment, the hall where Charles had confronted the High Court of Justice with the placid courage which has half redeemed his fame.

Neither military nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined with grenadiers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The peers, robed in gold and ermine, were marshalled by the heralds under Garter King-at-Arms. The judges in their vestments of state attended to give advice on points of law. Near a hundred and seventy lords, three fourths of the Upper House as the Upper House then was, walked in solemn order from their usual place of assembling to the tribunal. The junior Baron present led the way, George Eliott, Lord Heathfield, recently ennobled for his memorable defence of Gibraltar against the fleets and armies of France and Spain. The long procession was closed by the Duke of Norfolk, Earl Marshal of the realm, by the great dignitaries, and by the brothers and sons of the King. Last of all came the Prince of Wales, conspicuous by his fine person and noble bearing.

The gray old walls were hung with scarlet. The long galleries were crowded by an audience such as has rarely excited the fears or the emulation of an orator. There were gathered together, from all parts of a great, free, enlightened and prosperous empire, grace and female loveliness, wit and learning, the representatives of every science and of every art. There were seated round the Queen, the fair-haired young daughters of the house of Brunswick. There the Ambassadors of great Kings and Commonwealths gazed with admiration on a spectacle which no other country in the world could present. There Siddons, in the prime of her majestic beauty, looked with emotion on a scene surpassing all the imitations of the stage. There the historian of the Roman Empire thought of the days when Cicero pleaded the cause of Sicily against Verres, and when, before a senate which still retained some show of freedom, Tacitus thundered against the oppressor of Africa.

There were seen, side by side, the greatest painter and the greatest scholar of the age. The spectacle had allured Reynolds from that easel which has preserved to us the thoughtful foreheads of so many writers and statesmen, and the sweet smiles of so many noble matrons. It had induced Parr to suspend his labours in that dark and profound mine from which he had extracted a vast treasure of erudition--a treasure too often buried in the earth, too often paraded with injudicious and inelegant ostentation; but still precious, massive, and splendid. There appeared the voluptuous charms of her to whom the heir of the throne had in secret plighted his faith. There too was she, the beautiful mother of a beautiful race, the Saint Cecilia, whose delicate features, lighted up by love and music, art has rescued from the common decay. There were the members of that brilliant society which quoted, criticised, and exchanged repartees under the rich peacock hangings of Mrs. Montague. And there the ladies, whose lips, more persuasive than those of Fox himself, had carried the Westminster election against palace and treasury, shone round Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire.

The Serjeants made proclamation. Hastings advanced to the bar and bent his knee. The culprit was indeed not unworthy of that great presence. He had ruled an extensive and populous country, had made laws and treaties, had sent forth armies, had set up and pulled down princes. And in his high place he had so borne himself that all had feared him, that most had loved him, and that hatred itself could deny him no title to glory except virtue. He looked like a great man and not like a bad man. A person small and emaciated, yet deriving dignity from a carriage which, while it indicated deference to the court, indicated also habitual self-possession and self-respect; a high and intellectual forehead; a brow pensive, but not gloomy; a mouth of inflexible decision; a face pale and worn, but serene, on which was written, as legibly as under the picture in the council-chamber at Calcutta, _Mens aequa in arduis_; such was the aspect with which the great Proconsul presented himself to his judges.

His counsel accompanied him, men all of whom were afterwards raised by their talents and learning to the highest posts in their profession--the bold and strong-minded Law, afterwards Chief-Justice of the King's Bench; the more humane and eloquent Dallas, afterwards, Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas; and Plomer, who, near twenty years later, successfully conducted in the same high court the defence of Lord Melville, and subsequently became Vice-chancellor and Master of the Rolls.

But neither the culprit nor his advocates attracted so much notice as the accusers. In the midst of the blaze of red drapery, a space had been fitted up with green benches and tables for the Commons. The managers, with Burke at their head, appeared in full dress. The collectors of gossip did not fail to remark that even Fox, generally so regardless of his appearance, had paid to the illustrious tribunal the compliment of wearing a bag and sword. Pitt had refused to be one of the conductors of the impeachment; and his commanding, copious, and sonorous eloquence was wanting to that great muster of various talents. Age and blindness had unfitted Lord North for the duties of a public prosecutor; and his friends were left without the help of his excellent sense, his tact, and his urbanity.

But in spite of the absence of these two distinguished members of the Lower House, the box in which the managers stood contained an array of speakers such as perhaps had not appeared together since the great age of Athenian eloquence. There were Fox and Sheridan, the English Demosthenes and the English Hyperides. There was Burke, ignorant, indeed, or negligent of the art of adapting his reasonings and his style to the capacity and taste of his hearers, but in amplitude of comprehension and richness of imagination superior to every orator, ancient or modern.

There, with eyes reverentially fixed on Burke, appeared the finest gentleman of the age--his form developed by every manly exercise, his face beaming with intelligence and spirit--the ingenious, the chivalrous, the high-souled Windham. Nor, though surrounded by such men, did the youngest manager pass unnoticed. At an age when most of those who distinguish themselves in life are still contending for prizes and fellowships at college, he had won for himself a conspicuous place in Parliament. No advantage of fortune or connection was wanting that could set off to the height his splendid talents and his unblemished honour. At twenty-three he had been thought worthy to be ranked with the veteran statesmen who appeared as the delegates of the British Commons at the bar of the British nobility. All who stood at the bar, save him alone, are gone--culprit, advocates, accusers. To the generation which is now in the vigour of life, he is the sole representative of a great age which has passed away. But those who, within the last ten years, have listened with delight till the morning sun shone on the tapestries of the House of Lords, to the lofty and animated eloquence of Charles, Earl Grey, are able to form some estimate of the powers of a race of men among whom he was not the foremost.

The charges, and the answers of Hastings, were first read. The ceremony occupied two whole days, and was rendered less tedious than it would otherwise have been by the silver voice and just emphasis of Cowper, the clerk of the court, near relation of the amiable poet. On the third day Burke rose. Four sittings were occupied by his opening speech, which was intended to be a general introduction to all the charges. With an exuberance of thought and splendour of diction which more than satisfied the highly raised expectations of the audience, he described the character and institutions of the natives of India; recounted the circumstances in which the Asiatic empire of Britain had originated; and set forth the constitution of the Company and of the English Presidencies. Having thus attempted to communicate to his hearers an idea of Eastern society, as vivid as that which existed in his own mind, he proceeded to arraign the administration of Hastings, as systematically conducted in defiance of morality and public law.

The energy and pathos of the great orator extorted expressions of unwonted admiration from the stern and hostile Chancellor, and, for a moment, seemed to pierce even the resolute heart of the defendant. The ladies in the galleries, unaccustomed to such displays of eloquence, excited by the solemnity of the occasion, and perhaps not unwilling to display their taste and sensibility, were in a state of uncontrollable emotion. Handkerchiefs were pulled out, smelling-bottles were handed round; hysterical sobs and screams were heard; and Mrs. Sheridan was carried out in a fit. At length the orator concluded. Raising his voice till the old arches of Irish oak resounded: "Therefore," said he, "hath it with all confidence been ordered by the Commons of Great Britain, that I impeach Warren Hastings of high crimes and misdemeanours. I impeach him in the name of the Commons' House of Parliament, whose trust he has betrayed. I impeach him in the name of the English nation, whose ancient honour he has sullied. I impeach him in the name of the people of India, whose rights he has trodden under foot and whose country he has turned into a desert. Lastly in the name of human nature itself, in the name of both sexes, in the name of every age, in the name of every rank, I impeach the common enemy and oppressor of all."

--_Macaulay_

This lesson is an exercise on Inflection, especially as
it occurs on antithetical words or phrases and on series
of words or phrases parallel in construction.
(Introduction, pp. 19 and 20.)

* * * * *

PERORATION OF OPENING SPEECH AGAINST WARREN HASTINGS

1. In the name of the Commons of England, I charge all this villainy upon Warren Hastings, in this last moment of my application to you.

2. My Lords, what is it that we want here to a great act of national justice. Do we want a cause, my Lords? You have the cause of oppressed princes, of undone women of the first rank, of desolated provinces, and of wasted kingdoms.

3. Do you want a criminal, my Lords? When was there so much iniquity ever laid to the charge of any one? No, my Lords, you must not look to punish any other such delinquent from India. Warren Hastings has not left substance enough in India to nourish such another delinquent.

4. My Lords, is it a prosecutor you want? You have before you the Commons of Great Britain as prosecutors; and I believe, my Lords, that the sun, in his beneficent progress round the world, does not behold a more glorious sight than that of men, separated from a remote people by the material bounds and barriers of nature, united by the bond of a social and moral community--all the Commons of England resenting, as their own, the indignities and cruelties that are offered to all the people of India.

5. Do we want a tribunal? My Lords, no example of antiquity, nothing in the modern world, nothing in the range of human imagination, can supply us with a tribunal like this. My Lords, here we see virtually, in the mind's eye, that sacred majesty of the Crown, under whose authority you sit and whose power you exercise. We have here all the branches of the royal family, in a situation between majesty and subjection, between the sovereign and the subject--offering a pledge in that situation, for the support of the rights of the Crown and the liberties of the people, both which extremities they touch.