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THE VOWEL SOUNDS.
To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome :
And when you saw his chariot hut appear,
Have you not made an universal shout,
That Tiber trembled underneath her banks
To hear the replication of your sounds
Made in her concave shores ?
And do you now put on your best attire,
And do you now cull out a holiday,
And do you now strew flowers in his way
That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ?
Run to your houses, fall upon your knees,
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague
That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault
Assemble all the poor men of your sort:
Draw them to Tiber banks and weep your tears
Into the channel, till the lowest stream
Do kiss the most exalted shores of all.
Exercise for Consonants.
Thou'rt not thyself. For thou exist'st on many thousand grains That issue out of dust; happy thou art not For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, And what thou hast forget'st; thou art not certain For thy complexion shifts to strange effects After the moon.
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work Of subtlest jewellery.
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw.