PITCH.
The general pitch of voice varies with the emotion. Some feelings we are prompted to express in the high tones, as joy; some in the lower tones, as awe: but, without practice, very few have command of the higher and lower tones; and, when they attempt to read, they cannot give the requisite variety to make it expressive. It is important that these exercises should be studied until you can as easily read in your highest and lowest tones as in your natural conversational or middle tones.
In high pitch, read in as high pitch as you can, and at the same time keep the tone pure, and you will find your voice gradually gain in compass.
In middle pitch, read in your conversational tone, with earnestness.
In low pitch, read somewhat lower than middle pitch, and make as full a tone as you can.
In very low pitch, read as low in pitch as you can with ease, and do not try to make it loud or full until you have had considerable practice. Don't pinch or strain the throat: if you do, the quality will be bad.
HIGH PITCH.
1. Merrily swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain-side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name,—
Bob-o-link, bob-o-link,
Spink, spank, spink!
Snug and safe is that nest of ours
Hidden among the summer flowers:
Chee, chee, chee!
2. Oh! did you see him riding down,
And riding down, while all the town
Came out to see, came out to see,
And all the bells rang mad with glee?
Oh! did you hear those bells ring out,
The bells ring out, the people shout?
And did you hear that cheer on cheer
That over all the bells rang clear?
3. I am that merry wanderer of the night:
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I, a fat and bean-fed horse, beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a silly foal.
And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dew-lap pour the ale.
MIDDLE PITCH.
1. The honey-bee that wanders all day long
The field, the woodland, and the garden o'er,
To gather in his fragrant winter-store,
Humming in calm content his quiet song,
Sucks not alone the rose's glowing breast,
The lily's dainty cup, the violet's lips;
But from all rank and noisome weeds he sips
The single drop of sweetness ever pressed
Within the poison chalice. Thus, if we
Seek only to draw forth the hidden sweet
In all the varied human flowers we meet
In the wide garden of Humanity,
And, like the bee, if home the spoil we bear,
Hived in our hearts, it turns to nectar there.
2. Now the laughing, jolly Spring began to show her buxom face in the bright morning. The buds began slowly to expand their close winter folds, the dark and melancholy woods to assume an almost imperceptible purple tint; and here and there a little chirping blue-bird hopped about the orchards. Strips of fresh green appeared along the brooks, now released from their icy fetters; and nests of little variegated flowers, nameless, yet richly deserving a name, sprang up in the sheltered recesses of the leafless woods.
3. I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet, and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature or art may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred.
LOW PITCH.
1. Mid the flower-wreathed tombs I stand,
Bearing lilies in my hand.
Comrades, in what soldier-grave
Sleeps the bravest of the brave?
Is it he who sank to rest
With his colors round his breast?
Friendship makes his tomb a shrine:
Garlands veil it; ask not mine.
2. God, thou art merciful. The wintry storm,
The cloud that pours the thunder from its womb,
But show the sterner grandeur of thy form.
The lightnings glancing through the midnight gloom,
To Faith's raised eye as calm, as lovely, come
As splendors of the autumnal evening star,
As roses shaken by the breeze's plume,
When like cool incense comes the dewy air,
And on the golden wave the sunset burns afar.
3. O thou Eternal One! whose presence bright
All space doth occupy, all motion guide;
Unchanged through Time's all-devastating flight;
Thou only God!—there is no God beside!
Being above all beings! Three-in-one!
Whom none can comprehend, and none explore;
Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone;
Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er;
Being whom we call God, and know no more!
VERY LOW PITCH.
1. When in the silent night all earth lies hushed
In slumber; when the glorious stars shine out,
Each star a sun, each sun a central light
Of some fair system, ever wheeling on
In one unbroken round, and that again
Revolving round another sun; while all,
Suns, stars, and systems, proudly roll along
In one majestic, ever-onward course,
In space uncircumscribed and limitless,—
Oh! think you then the undebased soul
Can calmly give itself to sleep,—to rest?
2. Go stand upon the heights at Niagara, and listen in awe-struck silence to that boldest most earnest and eloquent, of all Nature's orators! And what is Niagara, with its plunging waters and its mighty roar, but the oracle of God, the whisper of His voice who is revealed in the Bible as sitting above the water-floods forever?
3. The drums are all muffled; the bugles are still;
There's a pause in the valley, a halt on the hill;
And the bearers of standards swerve back with a thrill
Where the sheaves of the dead bar the way:
For a great field is reaped, heaven's garners to fill;
And stern Death holds his harvest to-day.