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I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses.

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river;

For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.

THE BELLS OF SHANDON

With deep affection and recollection,

I often think of those Shandon bells,

Francis Mahony.

Whose sound so wild would, in the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle their magic spells.

On this I ponder where'er I wander,

And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee,—
With thy bells of Shandon, that sound so grand, on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in,
Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine;

While at a glib rate, brass tongues would vibrate;
But all their music spoke naught like thine.

For memory dwelling, on each proud swelling
Of thy belfry, knelling its bold notes free,
Made the bells of Shandon sound far more grand, on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

I've heard bells tolling old Adrian's Mole in,
Their thunder rolling from the Vatican;
And cymbals glorious swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turret of Notre Dame;

But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter
Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly.

Oh! the bells of Shandon sound far more grand, on

The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

There's a bell in Moscow; while, on tower and kiosk-oIn Saint Sophia the Turkman gets,

And loud in air calls men to prayer,

From the tapering summits of tall minarets.

Such empty phantom I freely grant them;
But there's an anthem more dear to me:
"Tis the bells of Shandon that sound so grand, on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.

THOSE EVENING BELLS

Thomas Moore.

Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells
Of youth and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime!

Those joyous hours are passed away;
And many a heart that then was gay
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so 'twill be when I am gone,-
That tuneful peal will still ring on;
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER

I remember, I remember

Thomas Moore.

The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn.

He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday,-
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember

The fir-trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky.

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.

XVII. Unity

The Teacher very often finds that the Student who has mastered the Grammar of the Spoken Word and the Technique, pushes out some words in his reading so that they seem to stand apart from the selections and there seems to be little or no connection when the word picture

is complete. Wrong delivery is sometimes brought about because of physiological conditions; or it may be the result of untrained organs; or it may be through mechanical training of olden days, which at the present time is not a little prevalent among students. I refer to the superfluous use of the pencil in underscoring certain words or making an upward or downward sign to signify a rise or fall of the voice.

All such mechanical propositions have worked and forever will work destruction upon all natural interpretation. There should be a perfect blending and grading up to the supreme peaks, as well as a gradual descent into the subordinate abysses; no jumping from peak to peak, or from valley to valley without the ascent and the descent, for such mental contortions create havoc not only in the mind of the speaker but in the Auditor's mind as well. When the individual has a Harmonious, Unified understanding, a well controlled mind, voice, and body, he must necessarily present the Forms of Literature in such a harmonious and unified manner that the listener, however ignorant, will unconsciously pay tribute to the Artist apart from the Artisan, the Master, from the Mechanic.

XVI. Bible and Hymn Reading

In order to read the Scripture, it will be found absolutely essential to master all the steps in the Grammar of the Spoken Word; and in order to make all Scripture or Hymn reading effective as in all other good reading, it will require an identification on the part of the reader; also an absolute belief and understanding in what he is endeavoring to interpret. The accomplishment of this is no easy task and it will require considerable concentration and prayer upon the particular passages which the individual may

wish to interpret. The Scripture, being the true foundation and example of all secular literature, it will be readily understood by the thinker that he must not only be familiar with the Grammar of the Spoken Word, but also the different forms of poetry and how they should be delivered.

While there should be the ideal suggestion in the voice and manner of the speaker, yet he should under no circumstances allow himself to drift into a tune or mood, for the one thing, above all others, which Scripture stands for, is to uplift and ennoble humanity. I take pleasure in submitting some portion of Scriptures; also a few hymns which have received the stamp of time's approval and the Litterateur's highest recognition.

TWENTY-THIRD PSALM

The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for

ever.

Psalm 91.

SECURITY OF THE GODLY

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

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