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Towards five the doors of the town-hall opened, and between a double file of soldiers advanced seventeen non-commissioned officers, each one assisted by two monks of the order of Misericordia. Mournful silence prevailed, interrupted every now and then by the doleful beating of the drums, and the prayers of the agonising, chanted by the monks.
The musicians, who were stationed in the portico without, had commenced their office with the kid; they now directed the melody into a more soft, a more gay, yet it may be a more intellectual strain; and they chanted that song of Horace beginning 'Persicos odi', etc., so impossible to translate, and which they imagined applicable to a feast that, effeminate as it seems to us, was simple enough for the gorgeous revelry of the time.
Here the tribes of Israel may have been gathered while the priests chanted the curses of the law from Ebal and the blessings from Gerizim.
I may sit in the court-yard and hear the singers, may listen to the tale-tellers by the light of the moon; I may hear the tales of Al-Raschid chanted by one whose tongue never falters, and whose voice is like music; after the manner of the East I may give bread and meat to the poor at sunset; I may call the dancers to the feast. But what comfort shall it give? I am no longer a youth. I would work.
Scores of times they called me 'Reverend Mother. 'Open the door, I humbly pray you, Reverend Mother, pleaded Mother Sub-Prioress at the keyhole. 'Dixi: Custodiam vias meas, chanted Mary Antony, in a beauteous voice! . . . 'Open, open, Reverend Mother! besought a multitude without.
Tito's touch and beseeching voice recalled her; and now in the warm sunlight she saw that rich dark beauty which seemed to gather round it all images of joy purple vines festooned between the elms, the strong corn perfecting itself under the vibrating heat, bright winged creatures hurrying and resting among the flowers, round limbs beating the earth in gladness with cymbals held aloft, light melodies chanted to the thrilling rhythm of strings all objects and all sounds that tell of Nature revelling in her force.
But seventeen years came crawling by before the torches flared, smoked and gleamed as the mourners chanted a requiem, and the clods fell on the coffin, and their echoes intermingled with the solemn voice of the priest as he said, "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes." In Eighteen Hundred Thirty-five, the graves were opened and casts taken of the skulls.
chanted the little man in a high, thin voice, and started to bring the drumstick down upon the huge head of his noisy instrument. "No you don't!" cried the Scarecrow, leaping forward and catching his arm. "I positively forbid it!" "Then I shall have no work!" screamed the drummer, falling on his face. "Ah, Gracious Master, don't you remember me?" "Yes," said the Scarecrow kindly, "who are you?"
Louder and louder he chanted his hymns, raising his voice above the thundering roar of the crackling fire, the rolling stones, and the last despairing cries of the doomed ones. The fur on his cap, his forked beard and dangling locks were singed by the falling cinders, and his skin scorched and blistered, yet still he chanted on.
At the sidelines the lieutenants chanted: "Hup! Hup! Hup-hup-hup!" Legs began to move in an impressive clock-work unison. Gradually the thousands of bayonets took motion, seemed to flow along like some strange stream of scintillating lights.
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