For memory, dwelling on each proud swelling
Of thy belfry, knelling its bold notes free,
Makes 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 turrets of Notre Dame;

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

O, 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, O! In St. 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.

LANGUAGE STUDY.

I. Write the analysis of: recollection; pleasant; glorious; sol emnly; freely.

II. Analyze the first stanza. Select an exclamative sentence.

III. What peculiarities in the meter and rhythm of this poem, do you think, give it its music? What is the name of the river with a mellifluous sound? What is the refrain, and how often is it repeated?

66.-The Quicksand.

en-shroud'ress, one who buries. | mē ́di-ŭm, substance, material. im-pla ́ea-ble, relentless. in-ex'o-ra-ble, unyielding.

pro-trudes', thrusts itself out.
sin'is-ter, evil and deplorable.

1. It sometimes happens, on certain coasts of Brittany or Scotland, that a man-traveler or fisherman-walking on the beach at low tide, far from the bank, suddenly notices that for several minutes he has been walking with some difficulty. The strand beneath his feet is like pitch; his soles stick to it: it is sand no longer, it is glue. The beach is perfectly dry; but at every step he takes, as soon as he lifts his foot, the print which it leaves fills with water.

2. The eye, however, has noticed no change. The immense strand is smooth and tranquil (all the sand has the same appearance): nothing distinguishes the surface which is solid from the surface which is no longer so. The joyous little cloud of sand fleas continues to leap tumultuously over the wayfarer's feet. The man pursues his way, goes forward, inclines towards the land, endeavors to get nearer the upland. He is not anxious (anxious about what?), only he feels somehow as if the weight of his feet increased with every step which he takes.

3. Suddenly he sinks in; he sinks in two or three inches. Decidedly he is not on the right road. He stops to take his bearings. All at once he looks at his

feet. His feet have disappeared: the sand covers them. He draws his feet out of the sand, he will retrace his steps: he turns back, he sinks in deeper. The sand comes up to his ankles. He pulls himself out, and throws himself to the left-the sand is half-leg deep: he throws himself to the right—the sand comes up to his shins.

4. Then he recognizes with unspeakable terror that he is caught in the quicksand, and that he has beneath him the fearful medium in which man can no more walk than the fish can swim. He throws off his load, if he has one; he lightens himself like a ship in distress. It is already too late: the sand is above his knees.

5. He calls; he waves his hat or his handkerchiefthe sand gains on him more and more. If the beach is deserted, if the land is too far off, if the sand bank is of too ill repute, if there is no hero in sight, it is all over: his fate is sealed.

6. He is condemned to that appalling interment, long, infallible, implacable, impossible to slacken or to hasten, which endures for hours, which will not end; which seizes you erect, free, and in full health; which draws you by the feet; which at every effort that you attempt, at every shout that you utter, drags you a little deeper; which appears to punish you for your resistance by a redoubling of its grasp; which sinks the man slowly into the earth, while it leaves him all the time to look at the horizon, the trees, the green

fields, the smoke of the villages in the plain, the sails of the ships upon the sea, the birds flying and singing, the sunshine, the sky.

7. The grave becomes a tide, and rises from the depths of the earth towards a living man. Each minute is an inexorable enshroudress. The victim

attempts to sit down, to lie down, to creep: every movement he makes inters him. He straightens up

he sinks in; he feels that he is being swallowed up; he howls, implores, cries to the clouds, wrings his hands, despairs.

8. Behold him waist deep in the sand; the sand reaches his breast-he is now only a bust. He raises his arms, utters furious groans, clutches the beach with his nails (would hold by that straw), leans upon his elbows to pull himself out of this soft sheath, sobs frenziedly. The sand rises, the sand reaches his shoulders, the sand reaches his neck: the face alone is visible

now.

9. The mouth cries, the sand fills it-silence. The eyes still gaze, the sand shuts them-night. Then the forehead decreases; a little hair flutters above the sand; a hand protrudes, comes through the surface of the beach, moves and shakes and disappears. Sinister effacement of a man!

LANGUAGE STUDY.

I. Write the analysis of: difficulty (facere); decide (cædere); resistance (sistere); visible (videre); victim (vincere).

Write the analysis of: perfectly; appearance; tumultuously; unspeakable; interment; resistance; effacement.

What noun does Victor Hugo invent from the verb "enshroud"?

II. Select an elliptical imperative sentence. Write the principal parts of: cry; stick; notice; feel; disappear; lighten; appall.

III. To what class of composition does this piece belong? (The style is very characteristic of Victor Hugo.) He is now only a bust" (8) note this powerful metaphor. Select other vivid expressions.