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That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot;
Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge,
Cry-God for Harry! England! and Saint George!

Shakspeare.

King Henry's speech requires a very high key and rather quick time.

THE GRAVE.

1. There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found:
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep,

Low in the gronnd.

2. The storm that wrecks the wintry sky
No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer evening's latest sigh

That shuts the rose.

3. I long to lay this painful head
And aching heart beneath the soil,
To slumber in that dreamless bed,

From all my toil;

4. For misery stole me at my birth
And cast me helpless on the wild :
I perish; O my mother earth,

Take home thy child.

Montgomery's Grave should be read or recited on a very low key with slow time and long quantity.

EXTRACT FROM A DISCOURSE ON THE GENIUS AND CHARACTER OF THE REV. HORACE HOLLEY.

1. He sickened during the darkness and roar of a tempest as fierce as the delirium by which his great intellect was destined to be shattered, and which shook, for a time, surrounding nature with a tumult as appalling as the fearful convulsions amidst which he expired.

2. And he died after a short illness at sea, in the meridian of life, remote from medical aid, and from all connex

ions and intimate friends that might have soothed his suf ferings and ministered to his wants, was attended in his sickness only by strangers, who were destitute alike of skill and means to afford him relief, or even contribute to his comfort, and his remains were committed to the waves of the Gulf of Mexico.

3. To deepen still more the sombre shades of the melancholy picture, all this happened at a conjuncture when offers were held out to him and prospects unfolded, in the highest degree flattering, and by which he might have become easy and affluent in fortune.

4. And the value of such prospects can be duly appreciated by his acquaintance and friends; for it is well known to them, that, like too many others of the bright improvident sons of genius, he had made no competent pecuniary provisions for any of the adverse contingencies of life.

5. The rolling surf, as it breaks over the reef near which he was deposited, resounds to him the deep and solemn requiem, which will never cease to salute the ear of the passing mariner, while the winds shall continue to waft him, and the ocean be his home.

6. And amidst the roar of the mighty waters, his repose will be as peaceful, as if he slept under fretted marble, or the grassy sod, silently wept on by the dews of evening, and soothed by the vespers of the softened breeze. Let us fancy to ourselves, a choir of the fairest and most exquisite vocalists of the ocean, chanting to their favorite the following elegy:

7. Farewell! be it ours to embellish thy pillow

With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep; Each flower of the rock, and each gem of the billow, Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep.

8. Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ;

With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreath'd chamber, We daughters of ocean, by moonlight have slept.

9. We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling, And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head;

We'll seek where the sands are most precious and spark

ling,

And gather their dust to strew over thy head.

10. Farewell! farewell! until pity's emotion

Is extinct in the hearts of the fair and the brave, They'll weep for their favorite who died on this ocean, The stranger who peacefully sleeps in this wave.-Dr. Caldwell.

The Rev. Horace Holley, LL. D., was President of the Transylvania University, at Lexington, in the state of Kentucky, for nine years, during which period, the institution greatly flourished. In the year 1827, Dr. Holley, in consequence of persecution and a vituperative attack from the Governor of that State, resigned the Presidency of the University. He now formed the idea of taking an excursion to Europe, for the benefit of such young men as were disposed, and could afford to accompany him. This plan, he knew, would, if carried into effect, give his pupils an opportunity to acquire much more practical knowledge than they could obtain at home, or from books. The excursion too, would tend to enlarge their views and liberalize their minds. The system, for its completion, was to include from six to eight years. But the friends of education at New Orleans, persuaded Dr. Holley to abandon his proposed European excursion, and to agree to take charge of a literary institution which they were desirous to establish in their city. Owing to the oppressive heat of the climate of New Orleans, in July, he measurably lost his health. Under the impression that the sea air would restore it, he took a ship to go to New-York. While on his way to that city, a storm occurred which oc casioned sea-sickness with the passengers generally, and, with Dr. Holley, a disease of which he died. His winding sheet was his cloak, and his grave the ocean. He was a brother of Myron and O. L. Holley. Charles Caldwell, M. D., Professor of Medicine in the Transylvania University, prepared and delivered, at the chapel, a most excellent discourse on the genius and character of Dr. Holley, from the concluding part of which, the above extract is taken. It should be read or recited deliberately, and with considerable quantity. The key, for the prose, should not be very high nor low. The poetry with which it is concluded, requires rather a low key. It is a piece of deep pathos; and, if its elocution be such as it demands, it cannot fail to excite a thrilling interest in the mind of the hearer.

SATAN'S SUPPOSED SPEECH TO HIS LEGIONS, ON THE OBLIVIOUS POOL.

1.

Princes, Potentates,

Warriors, the flower of Heaven once yours, now lost,
If such astonishment as this can seize

Eternal spirits; or have ye chosen this place,
After the toil of battle, to repose

Your wearied virture, for the ease you find
To slumber here in the vales of Heaven?

3. Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the conqurer! who now beholds
Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood,
With scatter'd arms and ensigns; till anon
His swift pursuers from Heaven's gates discern
The advantage, and descending, tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!

John Milton was born at London, in the year 1608. His "Paradise Lost" is written with great ability. It displays almost infinite power of imagination. When Milton wrote it, he doubtless, "felt the enchantment of oriental fiction." The idea of writing it, was probably suggested to the mind of its author, by his reading Homer, whose account of the Trojan war somewhat resembles the description contained in Milton's work of a war in heaven. Be that as it may, Milton justly ranks high as a poet. The above speech which he imagines to have been made, requires a high key, and quick time.

MILTON'S APOSTROPHE TO LIGHT.

1. Hail, holy light, offspring of Heaven first-born,
Or of the Eternal co-eternal beam,

May I express thee unblamed? since God is light,
And never but in unapproached light

Dwelt from eternity; dwelt then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate!

2. Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream,
Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun,
Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice
Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest
The rising world of waters dark and deep,
Won from the void and formless infinite.

3. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,

Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detain'd
In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight

Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes than to the orphan lyre,

I sung of Chaos and eternal Night.

4. Taught by the heavenly muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend,

5.

6.

Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,
And feel thy sovereign vital lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn :
So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs,
Or dim suffusion veil'd.

Yet not the more, Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget Those other two equal'd with me in fate, So were I equal'd with them in renown! Blind Thamyris, and blind Mæonides; And Tiresias, and Phineas, prophets old: Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and in the shadiest cover hid, Tunes her nocturnal note.

Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair,
Presented with a universal blank

Of nature's works, to me expunged and razed,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
So much the rather thou, celestial Light

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