Your weapons, think on the beseeching eyes,

To whet them, could have lent you tears for water!
O, now be men, or never! From your hearths

Thrust the unbidden feet, that from their nooks
Drove forth your aged sires,

The land that bore you,

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your wives and babes!

Do honor to her! Let her glory in

Your breeding! Rescue her! Revenge her, or
Ne'er call her mother more!

7. Rouse ye, Romans! Rouse ye, slaves!

...

Have ye brave sons ? - Look in the next fierce brawl
To see them die! Have ye fair daughters? - Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice,
Be answered by the lash!

Yet this is Rome,
That sate on her seven hills, and from her throne
Of beauty ruled the world!

Yet, we are ROMANS!
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman

Was greater than a king! And once again
(Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus !) — once again I swear,
The Eternal City shall be free!

8. I have been, I am, I shall be, even to the tomb, the man of the public liberty, the man of the constitution. If to be such be to become the man of the people rather than of the nobles, then woe to the privileged orders! For privileges shall have an end, but... the people... are eternal!

9. Strike till the last armed foe expires!

Strike for your altars and

Strike

your sires!

for the green graves of God, and your native land!

10. Now, by your children's cradles,

- now,

by your fathers' graves,

Be men to-day, Quir-i'tēs, or be forever slaves!
For this did Servius give us laws? For this did Lucrece bleed?
For this was the great vengeance wrought on Tarquin's evil seed?
For this did those false sons make red the axes of their sire?
For this did Scæv'o-la's right hand hiss in the Tuscan fire?
Shall the vile earth-fox awe the race that stormed the lion's den?
Shall we, who could not brook one lord, crouch to the wicked Ten?

11. Courage, Romans! The gods are for us! those gods whose temples and altars the impious Tarquin has profaned. By the blood of the wronged Lucretia, I swear, (hear me, ye Powers Supreme!) by this blood, which was once so pure, and which nothing but royal villainy could have polluted, — I swear that I will pursue, to the death, these Tarquins, with fire and sword; nor will I ever suffer any one of that family, or of any other family whatsoever, to be king in Rome! On, to the Forum! Bear the body hence, high in the public view, through all the streets! On, Romans, on! The fool shall set you

free!

12. I'll keep them all;

No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not:

I'll keep them . . . by this hand!

§ 63. Exercises in Force. (See § 36.)

The following Exercises require the loudest vocal Force and highes Pitch.

1. Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue! rescue!
The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger;

His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death;
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!

2. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

(Will they not hear?) - What, ho! you men, you beasts,
(That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
With purple fountains, issuing from your veins,)
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your movëd prince.

3. Rise, fathers, rise! 't is Rome demands your help;
Rise and revenge her slaughtered citizens;
Rouse up, for Shame! our brothers of Pharsalia

Point at their wounds, and cry aloud, To battle!
Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow,
And Scipio's ghost walks unavenged amongst us.

The following speech of Virginius offers a beautiful instance of Transition from loud Force to gentle, and from high tones to the purest and most patnetic low tones. Virginius, it will be remembered, having slain his daughter to save her from the pollution of Appius Claudius, who has claimed her as a slave, is touched with insanity.

4.

Lucius. Justice will be defeated.
Virginius. Who says that?
He lies in the face of the gods.
Immaculate, and immortal!

She is immutable, and though all

The guilty globe should blaze, she would spring up
Through the fire, and soar above the crackling pile,
With not a downy feather ruffled by

Its fierceness.

But where's Virginia?

Will she not come? I'll call her.

She'll not dare —

Dare? Did I say dare? Poor child! O, when

Did my Virginia dare? (Calls.) Virginia!

Is it a voice, or nothing, answers me?

I hear a sound so fine... there's nothing lives

'Twixt it and silence: such a slender one

I've heard when I have talked with her in fancy!
A phantom sound!

The following passages require moderate Force, and at the Dash there should be a Transition from middle Pitch to low, with aspirated quality.

1. So stately her bearing, so proud her array,

The main she will traverse for ever and aye.
Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast!

Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last!

2. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes locked love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage bell;

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

3. Make fast the doors; heap wood upon the fire; Draw in your stools, and pass the goblet round,

And be the prattling voice of children heard.

Now let us make good cheer!

Do I not see, or do I dream I see

But what is this?

A form that midmost in the circle sits,
Half visible, his face deformed with scars,

And foul with... blood

O yes!

I know it— there

Sits DANGER, with his feet upon the hearth!

The following should be read with gentle Force and in the purest low

tones.

1. FROM THE MAY QUEEN.

Tennyson.

There's not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the pane; I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again:

I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on high; I long to see a flower so, before the day I die.

I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now; You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow; Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child.

If I can, I'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place; Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face, Though I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, And be often, often with you when you think I'm far away.