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V. Minor Falling Inflections.
1. O, sàve me, Hubert, sàve me! My eyes are out

Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

2. O! I have lost you all!

Parents and home and friends.

3. The shepherd saunters làst:--but why

Comes with him, pace for pace,
That èwe? and why, so piteously,

Looks up the creature's fàce?

VI. Circumflex Inflections.
1. None dared withstànd him to his făce,

But one sly maiden spake aside:
“The little witch is evil-eyed !
Her mother only killed a côw,

Or witched a chûrn or dâiry-pan;
But shě, forsooth, must charm a mân!”


2. What should I sày to you? Should I not say,

Hath a dog money? is it possible,
A cur can lend three thousand ducats ?

3. Do not tell me of lăws; I am a såvage! I value nò laws. Talk of laws to the Ènglishman; there are laws in his country, and yet you see he did not regård them, for they could never allow him to kill his fellow-subject in time of peace, because he asked him to pay a děbt. The English cannot be so brûtal as to make such things lawful.

4. Now, in building of chaises, I tell you what,

There is always somewhere a weakest spot;
And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
A chaise breaks down, but does n't wear ôut.


He, I warrant him,
Believed in no other gods than those of the creed;
Bowed to no idols—but his money-bags ;
Swore no false ôaths—except at the củstom-house.

VII. Monotone.
1. Höly! hõly! hõly ! Lord God of Sabaoth!

2. The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous pālaces,

The sõlemn tēmples, the grēat globe itself,—
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissòlve,
And, like this unsubstantial pageant, faded, -
Leave not a ràck behind.

3. There was silence, and I heard a voice saying,

"Shall mortal mān be more jūst than God?
Shall a mān be more pūre than his Māker ?”

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URE TONE is used in unimpassioned discourse; in the ex-

pression of light and agreeable emotions; and in 'sadness or grief.

Orotund is used to express whatever is grand, vast, or sublime.

Aspirated quality expresses secrecy, fear, darkness, or moral impurity.

The Whisper has expressive power similar to that of the aspirated tone. It is seldom employed in reading or speaking, but it may be practiced a few moments at a time, as a discipline of the organs of speech.

I. Whispering. 1. All heaven and earth are still,—though not in sleep,

But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep.

2. I see the head of the enemy's column rising over the height. Our only safety is in the screen of this hèdge. Keep close to it; be silent; and stoop as you rùn. For the boats! Fòrward !

3. All silent they went, for the time was approaching,

The moon the blue zenith already was touching ;
No foot was abroad on the forest or hill,
No sound but the lullaby sung by the rìll.

II. Half-whisper, or Aspirated Tone.
1. Only the old camp-raven croaks,

And soldiers whisper: “Boys, be still!
There's some bad news from Gràinger's folks.”

2. Hist! I see the stir of glàmour far upon the twilight wold.

Hìst! I see the vision rìsing! List! and as I speak, behold!

3. And once behind a rick of barley,

Thus looking out did Harry stànd;
The moon was full and shining clearly,
And crisp with frost the stubble lànd.
-He hears a nòise—he's all awake-
Agàin !-on tiptoe down the hill
He softly crèeps.

4. Macbeth, Didst thou not hear a nóise ?

Lady Macbeth. I heard the owl scream, and the crựckets cry. Did not you speak ?

Macb. Whèn ?
Lady M. Nòw.
Mach. As I descénded ?
Lady M. Ảy.
Macb. Hark! Who lies i’ the second chàmber?
Lady M. Dònalbain.

Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper. 5. Gentlewoman. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Obsèrve her; stand clòse.

Physician. How came she by that light?

Gent. Why it stood by her; she has light by her continually; 't is her command.

Phy. You see her eyes are òpen?
Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.

Phy. What is it she does nòw? Lòok, how she rubs her hànds; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

III. Pure Tone.
V 1. You bells in the steéple, ring, ring out your chànges,

How many soever they bè,
And let the brown meadow-lark's note as he ranges

Come over, come over to mè.

2. The splendor falls on cástle walls,

And snowy sùmmits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lákes,

And the wild càtaract leaps in glòry.

3. The maxim that no people ought to be free till they are fit to úse their freedom, is worthy of the fool in the old story, who resolved not to go into the water till he had learned to swìin. If men are to wait for liberty till they become wise and good in slăvery, they may indeed wait forèver.


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4. Blessings on th. mile man,

Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan;
With thy turned-up pantalòons,
And thy merry whistled tùnes;
With thy red lìp, redder still
Kissed by stràwberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brìm's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee jòy,-
I was once a barefoot boy!

5. My heart leaps up when I behold

A ráinbow in the sky;
So was it when my life begán;
So is it now I am a màn;
So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!
The child is father of the màn;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.


IV. Orotund.
1. Roll òn, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain.

2. I would call upon all the true sons of New Èngland to codperate with the laws of mán and the justice of Heaven.


3. Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth!

Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills,
Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven,
Great hierarch! tell thou the silent ský,
And tell the stàrs, and tell yon rising sùn,
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises Gòd.

The hills,
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sùn,—the vàles,
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods-rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks,
That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old òcean's gray and richoly waste, -
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of màn.

V. Aspirated Orotund,
1. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,

And all the air a solemn stillness holds.

2. How reverend is the face of this tall pile,

Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads,
To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof,
By its own weight made steadfast and immovable,
Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe
And tèrror on my aching sight; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart.

3. I see the smoke of the furnaces where manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of those who by stealth and at midnight labor in this work of hell, foul and dark, as may becòme the artificers of such instruments of misery and torture.

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