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 onHighland Hospitality, pp.153and 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? CompareMANandHORSE, 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.23and26.)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, and29.)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, and30.)What Inflection is used on the various questions in this and the preceding stanzas? (Introduction, pp.18and19.)127-133. Note the Grouping and the Shading. (Introduction, p.33.)
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 onHighland Hospitality, pp.153and 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? CompareMANandHORSE, 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.23and26.)
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, and29.)
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, and30.)
What Inflection is used on the various questions in this and the preceding stanzas? (Introduction, pp.18and19.)
127-133. Note the Grouping and the Shading. (Introduction, p.33.)
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, "issoin 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 kindlyesprit de corpswhich 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 homein 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 earspolite. 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 wassofine, or the airsorefreshing, 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.20and21.)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.)
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.20and21.)
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.)
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,5The 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,10Perfume and flowers fall in showers,That lightly rain from ladies' hands.How sweet are looks that ladies bendOn whom their favours fall!For them I battle till the end,15To 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.20More bounteous aspects on me beam,Me mightier transports move and thrill;So keep I fair thro' faith and prayerA virgin heart in work and will.When down the stormy crescent goes,25A 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;30The 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,35And solemn chaunts resound between.Sometimes on lonely mountain-meresI find a magic bark;I leap on board: no helmsman steers:I float till all is dark.40A 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!45My spirit beats her mortal bars,As down dark tides the glory slides,And star-like mingles with the stars.When on my goodly charger borneThro' dreaming towns I go,50The 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,55And gilds the driving hail.I leave the plain, I climb the height;No branchy thicket shelter yields;But blessed forms in whistling stormsFly o'er waste fens and windy fields.60A maiden knight—to me is givenSuch hope, I know not fear;I yearn to breathe the airs of heavenThat often meet me here.I muse on joy that will not cease.65Pure 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,70This 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-wallsA rolling organ-harmony75Swells 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."80So 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.
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,5The 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,10Perfume and flowers fall in showers,That lightly rain from ladies' hands.How sweet are looks that ladies bendOn whom their favours fall!For them I battle till the end,15To 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.20More bounteous aspects on me beam,Me mightier transports move and thrill;So keep I fair thro' faith and prayerA virgin heart in work and will.When down the stormy crescent goes,25A 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;30The 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,35And solemn chaunts resound between.Sometimes on lonely mountain-meresI find a magic bark;I leap on board: no helmsman steers:I float till all is dark.40A 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!45My spirit beats her mortal bars,As down dark tides the glory slides,And star-like mingles with the stars.When on my goodly charger borneThro' dreaming towns I go,50The 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,55And gilds the driving hail.I leave the plain, I climb the height;No branchy thicket shelter yields;But blessed forms in whistling stormsFly o'er waste fens and windy fields.60A maiden knight—to me is givenSuch hope, I know not fear;I yearn to breathe the airs of heavenThat often meet me here.I muse on joy that will not cease.65Pure 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,70This 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-wallsA rolling organ-harmony75Swells 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."80So 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?
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?
November 22, 1687
From harmony, from heavenly harmonyThis universal frame began;When Nature underneath a heapOf jarring atoms lay,And could not heave her head,5The 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.10From harmony, from heavenly harmony,This universal frame began;From harmony to harmonyThrough all the compass of the notes it ran,The diapason closing full in Man.15What passion cannot Music raise and quell?When Jubal struck the chorded shell,His listening brethren stood around,And, wondering, on their faces fellTo worship that celestial sound;20Less than a God they thought there could not dwellWithin the hollow of that shell,That spoke so sweetly and so well.What passion cannot Music raise and quell?The trumpet's loud clangour25Excites us to armsWith shrill notes of angerAnd mortal alarms.The double double double beatOf the thundering drum30Cries, Hark! the foes come;Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!The soft complaining fluteIn dying notes discoversThe woes of hopeless lovers,35Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.Sharp violins proclaimTheir jealous pangs and desperation,Fury, frantic indignation,Depth of pains, and height of passion40For the fair, disdainful dame.But oh! what art can teach,What human voice can reachThe sacred organ's praise?Notes inspiring holy love,45Notes that wing their heavenly waysTo mend the choirs above.Orpheus could lead the savage race,And trees unrooted left their place,Sequacious of the lyre:50But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:When to her organ vocal breath was givenAn angel heard, and straight appear'dMistaking Earth for Heaven.
From harmony, from heavenly harmonyThis universal frame began;When Nature underneath a heapOf jarring atoms lay,And could not heave her head,5The 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.10From harmony, from heavenly harmony,This universal frame began;From harmony to harmonyThrough all the compass of the notes it ran,The diapason closing full in Man.15What passion cannot Music raise and quell?When Jubal struck the chorded shell,His listening brethren stood around,And, wondering, on their faces fellTo worship that celestial sound;20Less than a God they thought there could not dwellWithin the hollow of that shell,That spoke so sweetly and so well.What passion cannot Music raise and quell?The trumpet's loud clangour25Excites us to armsWith shrill notes of angerAnd mortal alarms.The double double double beatOf the thundering drum30Cries, Hark! the foes come;Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!The soft complaining fluteIn dying notes discoversThe woes of hopeless lovers,35Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.Sharp violins proclaimTheir jealous pangs and desperation,Fury, frantic indignation,Depth of pains, and height of passion40For the fair, disdainful dame.But oh! what art can teach,What human voice can reachThe sacred organ's praise?Notes inspiring holy love,45Notes that wing their heavenly waysTo mend the choirs above.Orpheus could lead the savage race,And trees unrooted left their place,Sequacious of the lyre:50But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher:When to her organ vocal breath was givenAn angel heard, and straight appear'dMistaking Earth for Heaven.
Grand Chorus
As from the power of sacred lays55The spheres began to move,And sung the great Creator's praiseTo all the blessed above;So when the last and dreadful hourThis crumbling pageant shall devour,60The trumpet shall be heard on high,The dead shall live, the living die,And Music shall untune the sky.
As from the power of sacred lays55The spheres began to move,And sung the great Creator's praiseTo all the blessed above;So when the last and dreadful hourThis crumbling pageant shall devour,60The 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.16and33.) 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. CompareBRIGHT CECILIA, l. 51.
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.16and33.) 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. CompareBRIGHT CECILIA, l. 51.
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.5And, as I gazed on the field sublime,To watch the bright, pulsating stars,Adown the deep where the angels sleepCame drawn the golden chimeOf those great spheres that sound the years10For the horologe of time.Millenniums numberless they told,Millenniums a million-foldFrom the ancient hour of prime.
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.5And, as I gazed on the field sublime,To watch the bright, pulsating stars,Adown the deep where the angels sleepCame drawn the golden chimeOf those great spheres that sound the years10For the horologe of time.Millenniums numberless they told,Millenniums a million-foldFrom the ancient hour of prime.
—Charles Heavysege
Preparatory.—Compare other passages from literature which suggest the "music of the spheres," for example: Dryden'sSong for Saint Cecilia's Day, The Moonlight ScenefromThe Merchant of Venice, Milton'sThe 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.
Preparatory.—Compare other passages from literature which suggest the "music of the spheres," for example: Dryden'sSong for Saint Cecilia's Day, The Moonlight ScenefromThe Merchant of Venice, Milton'sThe 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.
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 told5That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;Yet never did I breathe its pure sereneTill I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:Then felt I like some watcher of the skiesWhen a new planet swims into his ken;10Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyesHe stared at the Pacific—and all his menLooked at each other with a wild surmise—Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
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 told5That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;Yet never did I breathe its pure sereneTill I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:Then felt I like some watcher of the skiesWhen a new planet swims into his ken;10Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyesHe stared at the Pacific—and all his menLooked 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 inThe 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.)
Preparatory.—How is the fundamental idea of this sonnet illustrated inThe 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;Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;And he who dareth, in the noble strifeOf intellects, to cope for real power,—Such as God giveth as His rarest dower5Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,—Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lowerTill the long shadows of the night arrive,Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,Plucked from green boughs, soon wither; those that last10Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noonAnd summer's fiery glare in vain are past.Life is the hour of labour; on Earth's breastSerene and undisturb'd shall be thy rest.
Great things were ne'er begotten in an hour;Ephemerons in birth, are such in life;And he who dareth, in the noble strifeOf intellects, to cope for real power,—Such as God giveth as His rarest dower5Of mastery, to the few with greatness rife,—Must, ere the morning mists have ceased to lowerTill the long shadows of the night arrive,Stand in the arena. Laurels that are won,Plucked from green boughs, soon wither; those that last10Are gather'd patiently, when sultry noonAnd summer's fiery glare in vain are past.Life is the hour of labour; on Earth's breastSerene 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.30and32.)Read ll. 3-9, with a view to Perspective. (Introduction, p. 33.)
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.30and32.)
Read ll. 3-9, with a view to Perspective. (Introduction, p. 33.)
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,5Where 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 sheenOf darkling shadow, diaphanous green,10In 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,15Till all mine inner heart wakens and thrillsWith 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 glow20When into the great, glad woods we go.O life-worn brothers, come with meInto the wood's hushed sanctity,Where the great, cool branches are heavy with June,And the voices of summer are strung in tune;25Come 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.30Come, 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,35The 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.
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,5Where 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 sheenOf darkling shadow, diaphanous green,10In 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,15Till all mine inner heart wakens and thrillsWith 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 glow20When into the great, glad woods we go.O life-worn brothers, come with meInto the wood's hushed sanctity,Where the great, cool branches are heavy with June,And the voices of summer are strung in tune;25Come 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.30Come, 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,35The 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?
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?
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,5Which 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,10Kiss 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,15I 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,20I sighed for thee.Thy brother Death came, and cried,Wouldst thou me?Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,Murmured like a noontide bee25Shall I nestle near thy side?Wouldst thou me?—And I replied,No, not thee!Death will come when thou art dead,Soon, too soon30Sleep will come when thou art fled;Of neither would I ask the boonI ask of thee, belovèd Night—Swift be thine approaching flight,Come soon, soon!35
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,5Which 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,10Kiss 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,15I 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,20I sighed for thee.Thy brother Death came, and cried,Wouldst thou me?Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,Murmured like a noontide bee25Shall I nestle near thy side?Wouldst thou me?—And I replied,No, not thee!Death will come when thou art dead,Soon, too soon30Sleep will come when thou art fled;Of neither would I ask the boonI ask of thee, belovèd Night—Swift be thine approaching flight,Come soon, soon!35
—Percy Bysshe Shelley
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, bythe 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 insecret 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 ofthought 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 humannature 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