THE GIPSY'S CHARMS. M. G. LEWIS. COME, cross my hand, my art surpasses Come, maidens, come, my magic glasses, For 'tis to me the power is given, I guide the pale moon's silver wagon, Who means to watch o'er buried gold. Fenced round with spells, unhurt, I venture, Their Sabbath strange, where witches keep; Fearless the sorcerer's circle enter, And, woundless, tread on snakes asleep. Lo! here are charms of mighty power; If any maid too much has granted, This blooms a cheek where red is wanted, Then silent hear, while I discover, MODULATION. THROUGH each preceding number of the Orator, we have given but scarcely a hint at modulation. We are frank to confess, that it is that branch of oratory, of all others, the most difficult to be represented in books holding the opinion which we have arrived at, by careful investigation of all the different schools of oratory. Whoever can delineate the passions correctly, will not be found wanting in modulation; but he who fails in the delivery of the emotions of the passions can not arrive at nature, in modulation, by any study. We are well aware that modulation has been classed with singing, and supposed to have been represented by a variety of marks and characters, the object of which is to learn it to the student by rote, or, in other words, to emphasize and inflect* according to rules. We never saw a reader who held to and practiced this theory who did not possess an unnatural and, we might add, disagreeable modulation. A constant observation of modulation as we hear it in every-day life will be found the most valuable instructor the student can consult. True, the student is apt to fall into errors, which the judicious instructor would point and correct at once, and, being conversant with nature, would direct his pupil rapidly on his course of study, and thus be of true value. But the real instructors of oratory are with us and about us every day, and must be heard and observed by the student, if he wishes to become "the orator." That person who imagines he can learn oratory as he would the square or cube measure will find himself sadly deficient, no matter how many teachers of this school he may obtain to instruct him—the more, the more fatal his delivery to natural oratory. "The falling inflection is generally used in all situations where the sense is complete, no matter in what division of a sentence, or whether connected by a conjunctive word or not; in all cases where the pauses are not long enough for the delivery of the action the words call forth; in all questions not answered by yes or no, and those that are, when not asked purely for information; in all exclamations, and, as a general rule, in all cases where euphony and sense are not impaired. "The rising inflection is generally used when a question is asked purely for information, and is answerable by yes or no; when any division of a sentence is intimately connected with another; and sometimes for euphony, when the falling inflection frequently occurs. "The circumflex, or rising and falling inflections combined, is used to give each syllable of a word its true signification. There can be given no instruction for the use of this combination, as it depends entirely upon the sense the speaker would convey." THE MARSEILLES HYMN. YE sons of France, awake to glory! Now, now the dangerous storm is rolling, With crimes and blood his hands imbruing? March on march on! all hearts resolved With luxury and pride surrounded, The avenging sword unsheath! Oh, liberty! can man resign thee, Once having felt thy generous flame? Can dungeons, bolts, and bars confine thee? Or whips thy noble spirit tame? Too long the world has wept, bewailing ANCIENT REPUBLICS. EXTRACT FROM AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT TONAWANDA, N. Y., BY THE REV. JOHN BOWMAN. THIS extract is a close representation of another to be found in a number of the Orator. THE eternal walls and pyramids of Egypt are moldering in their ruins. The palace of the Cæsars has crumbled, and now mingles with the dust. Go climb the lofty towers of Rome, and survey the melancholy mementoes of other times and other men. And was this the mighty Rome that once stood against the legions of Carthage led on by the victorious Hannibal? Yes; but, alas! "How are the mighty fallen!"-And where is Carthage? Buried in the vortex of oblivion. Could the shades of the immortal Cicero, Horace, Virgil, and Demosthenes, revisit the earth, and stray through those scenes which they have immortalized in song and eloquence, how would they be struck with the mutability of all human grandeur! O Time, mighty is the strength of thy arm! The wonders of the world have fallen before thee. Witness, ye walls of Babylon, covered with aerial gardens, and thou, great statue of Olympian Jove. For a moment, gaze upon Babylon in the pride of her strength. Behold her walls standing, as an immovable army of gigantic soldiery, to protect her splendor from the step of the invader. Behold, when she goeth forth to war, ten thousand chariots follow in her train. Crowns clustered upon her brow, and she returned loaded with trophies of easily bought victory. While seated upon the summit of earthly grandeur, she felt herself invincible, and dared to insult the Most High. The sound of revelry is heard within her palaces; the ruby wine goes round in jovial bands; the beautiful and brave mingle within her walls; her capital is crowded with the great of every nation, who offer her homage; but soon the thickening gloom gathers about her, and the dark portentous cloud breaks in fury upon her head. Her glory departs forever. The cry goes forth into all the earth-" Babylon, the great, is fallen." In the day of her prosperity has Destruction laid his iron hand upon her; and the lurid flames of the palace of her effeminate sovereign ascending among the clouds, remind us that she has passed away. Where is Greece, the cradle of heroes, the birth-place of poetry? She tuned her lyre, and the nations bent in homage before the god of song. She swept the gladsome harp, and, as the melodious music, peal after peal, rang out upon the Egean flood, the waves stood, spell-bound, to catch the voluptuous breath, and sea-gods danced, in wild delight, to hear their acts recorded by the pen of the immortal bard. And, lo! how many noble forms come trooping up to fancy's view, peopling every foot of sacred ground with their mighty shades! Homer, Lycurgus, Aristides, Cimon, and his rivalthe beautiful and brave Pericles Demosthenes, and a host of others, each calculated to awaken patriotic thoughts in every breast; and then reflect, if, with all this proud array of poets, orators, sages, and statesmen, Greece was not entitled to a proud immortality. Why did she fall-fall even while the matchless eloquence of Demosthenes was still sounding in her senate, and her wise and ever victorious generals were near, ready to guide, by their sage counsels, her armies? Where were the descendants of Leonidas and Xenophon? or was her bravery buried in the graves of these her early defenders? Why was the proud and arrogant Alexander suffered to bind this liberty-loving people in the iron bands of despotic sovereignty? The day of her prosperity has passed; and, for two thousand years, her glory has been trampled in the dust. We still gaze upon the land, which bears the proud name of other days, with feelings of wonder and sadness. The country yet glows with Hesperian beauty; but the Promethean fire which burned upon the altar of the Grecian heart has gone out forever. "How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!" Again, behold the wide-spreading fabric of the Roman empire. Her dominions girdled the seas; for she had already planted her conquering standard upon a thousand shores. Her eagle spread his broad wings over the whole civilized world; and millions owned her sway, and bent, in meek submissiveness, before her power. But where is she now? Vainly do we look for her name among those in the list of existing nations. Although her imperial city was seated upon the seven hills, and commanded the admiration of the world, now it only lives upon the page of history, a colossal monument of destruction and decay. The most celebrated cities of antiquity have been buried beneath the irresistible waves of time. Go read an example in the fate of Syracuse, the city of Archimedes, whose single arm repelled the hosts of Rome, and dared to move the world if he could have foundation for his feet. That splendid city is in ruins; her philosopher sleeps in the dust; and his mighty engines of war are gone. They are swept from the recollection of man. "And hath all the glory and grandeur of the world thus yielded to the victorious tooth of Time? Go seek an answer amid the wrecks of Palmyra, Balbec and Jerusalem. Behold, the city of God hath fallen; through her tottering temples and ruined battlements, the shade-born beetle wheels his dreary flight, and the roaring lion of the desert hath made his lair in the sepulcher of our Saviour." |