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Volume V, No. 1.

Whole No. 17.

Expression in Reading

BY ROBERT LLOYD.*

'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear, 'Tis modulation that must charm the ear. When desperate heroines grieve with tedious moan, And whine their sorrows in a see-saw tone, The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes Can only make the yawning hearers doze.

That voice all modes of passion can express
Which marks the proper word with proper stress;
But none emphatic can the reader call
Who lays an equal emphasis on all.
Some o'er the tongue the labored measures roll
Slow and deliberate as the parting toll;
Point every stop, mark every pause so strong,
Their words like stage-processions.stalk along,
All affectation but creates disgust;
And even in speaking we may seem too just.
In vain for them the pleasing measure cws.
Whose recitation runs it all to próse.
Repeating what the poet sets not down,
The verb disjoining from its friendly noun,
While pause, and break, and repetition join
To make a discord in each tuneful line.

Some placid natures fill the allotted scene
With lifeless drone, insipid and serene;
While others thunder every couplet o'er,
And almost crack your ears with rant and roar.
More nature oft and finer strokes are shown

* Robert Lloyd was an English poet of the middle eighteenth century.

In the low whisper than tempestuous tone:
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze
More powerful terror to the mind conveys
Than he who, swollen with big, impetuous rage,
Bullies the bulky phantom off the stage.

He who in earnest studies o'er his part
Will find true nature cling about his heart.
The modes of grief are not included all
In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl
A single look more marks the internal woe
Than all the windings of the lengthened O!
Up to the face the quick sensation flies,
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes.
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions, all the soul is there.

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BY FLORENCE EARL COATES.

do the Outlook.]
'Tis: the: front: toward life that matters most-

The toie, 'the point of view,
The cciistańcy: that in defeat
: Remains untouched and true;

For death in patroit fight may be

Less gallant than a smile,
And high endeavor to the gods

Seems in itself worth while!

Cremona*

BY A. CONAN DOYLE.

(The French Army, including a part of the Irish Brigade, under Marshal Villeroy, held the fortified town of Cremona during the winter of 1702. Prince Eugène, with the Imperial Army, surprised it one morning, and, owing to the treachery of a priest, occupied the whole city before the alarm was given. Villeroy was captured, together with many of the French garrison. The Irish, however, consisting of the regiments of Dillon and of Burke, held a fort commanding the river gate, and defended themselves all day, in spite of Prince Eugène's efforts to win them over to his cause. Eventually Eugène, being unable to take the post, was compelled to withdraw from the city.)

The Grenadiers of Austria are proper men and tall;
The Grenadiers of Austria have scaled the city wall;
They have marched from far away
Ere the dawning of the day,

And the morning saw them masters of Cremona.

There's not a man to whisper, there's not a horse to neigh,
Of the footmen of Lorraine and the riders of Duprés;
They have crept up every street,
In the market-place they meet,

They are holding every vantage in Cremona.
The Marshal Villeroy he has started from his bed;
The Marshal Villeroy has no wig upon his head;
“I have lost my men !” quoth he,
"And my men they have lost me,

And I sorely fear we both have lost Cremona."
Prince Eugène of Austria is in the market-place;
Prince Eugène of Austria has smiles upon his face;
Says he, "Our work is done,
For the Citadel is won,

And the black and yellow flag flies o'er Cremona."
Major Dan O'Mahony is in the barrack square,
And just six hundred Irish lads are waiting for him

there; Says he, "Come in your shirt,

* From "Songs of Action." Copyright 1898 by Doubleday & McClure Co., New York.

And you won't take any hurt,

For the morning air is pleasant in Cremona."

Major Dan O'Mahony is at the barrack gate,
And just six hundred Irish lads will neither stay nor

wait;
There's Dillon and there's Burke,
And there'll be some bloody work

Ere the Kaiserlics shall boast they hold Cremona.

Major Dan O'Mahony has reached the river fort, And just six hundred Irish lads are joining in the sport; "Come, take a hand !" says he, “And if you will stand by me,

Then it's glory to the man who takes Cremona!"

Prince Eugène of Austria has frowns upon his face,
And loud he calls his Galloper of Irish blood and race:
"MacDonnell, ride, I pray,
To your countrymen, and say

That only they are left in all Cremona!"

MacDonnell he has reigned his mare beside the river

dike, And he has tied the parley flag upon a sergeant's pike; Six companies were there From Limerick and Clare,

The last of all the guardians of Cremona.

"Now, Major Dan O'Mahony, give up the river gate,
Or, Major Dan O'Mahony, you'll find it is too late;
For when I gallop back
'Tis the signal for attack,

And no quarter for the Irish in Cremona!"

And Major Dan he laughed: “Faith, if what you say be

true,

And if they will not come until they hear again from you,
Then there will be no attack,
For you're never going back,

And we'll keep you snug and safely in Cremona.”

All the weary day the German stormers came,
All the weary day they were faced by fire and flame;

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