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THE BUGLE SONG

The splendor falls on castle walls

And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes

And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes - dying, dying, dying!

Oh, hark! oh, hear! how thin and clear,

And thinner, clearer, farther going!
Oh, sweet and far, from cliff and scar

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing !
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes — dying, dying, dying!

O love! they die in yon rich sky;

They faint on hill or field or river;
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow forever and forever.
Blow ! bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer— dying, dying, dying !

- Tennyson.

HOHENLINDEN

On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat, at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh'd
To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riven;
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven;
And louder than the bolts of heaven
Far flash'd the red artillery.

But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden's hills of stainéd snow,
And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank and fiery Hun
Shout in their sulph’rous canopy.

The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory, or the grave !
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave,
And charge with all thy chivalry!

Few, few shall part, where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet;
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulcher. - Campbell.

EIGHTH YEAR GRADE

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The cautious through fear guard against existing evils and dangers; the wary are suspicious and guard against deception and the artifices of designing men; the circumspect carefully weigh and deliberate in matters of immediate concern.

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“ Kindness is the substance of politeness. There is neither obsequiousness nor arrogance in the nature of a true gentleman. A graceful behavior with both inferiors and superiors is always safe. Let not graceful self-possession descend into flippancy or impertinence. Gentleness is the force by which the tiny daffodil in spring raises and pierces the cloud." Smiles.

“ The great man usually makes the opportunities that he appears to find.”

To abate is to diminish in force or to destroy; to subside is to relapse into a quiet state.

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