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Page 25 text:
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those who were taken alive were led in bonds and crucified along the Appian Way, the bodies being left to rot as a terrible warning to other men in bondage. Writers and men of vision have been inspired by this outstanding leader. Among these is William Linton, an English author and friend of Mazzini, the soul of the Italian unification movement, who signed his political contribu- tions to various newspapers Spartacus . Spartacus ' s name was also taken by a group of left-wing socialists in Germany who opposed the war of 1914-1918 and who tried to bring it to a speedy end. Elihu Burritt, a nineteenth century American writer and philanthropist, was inspired by the Spartacus legend to write a piece of rhetoric called the Address to the Gladiator , which has since become famous. Howard Fast too, a contemporary American, used Spartacus as the subject for one of his latest and best novels. Although historical facts are few, the name Spartacus symbolizes the eternal struggle against tyranny. Eva Kornpointer, Arts VI, Gumming House. ALGEBRA Add x4, divide y , and find sixth root of z. All sorts of crazy formulae are buzzing in my head. Now multiply an a by x, and find fifth root of z, O when I work on Algebra I wish that I were dead. Cube the square, and square the cube, and take fourth root of z. This would have been much simpler had I only stayed in bed. Then take a sum, a product find, toss in cube root of z. Yes, this a silly subject is, which I most surely dread. Divide the x, divide the y, divide square root of z. Numbers I ' ll put up with, but with letters I see red. By prodigious deduction, I solved sixth root to z. But I am glad I don ' t teach this to earn my daily bread. Janet Rutherford, Form Vb, Gumming House. THE LAKE THE SMALL lake was beautiful in the moonlight. From the golden shimmering circle near the centre came ripples of shiny black, only to become silver ribbons of lace as they glided over the soft, wet sand. Somewhere across the lake a loon wailed its mournful desolate cry. As we lifted our eyes to search for the maker of the sound, we noticed an overhanging branch of a water-willow dipping down into the cool, black water. The moonlight, as it penetrated the hanging boughs, produced shadows which played and danced upon the water. A bough breaking from a willow tree brought us back from the cloud in which we had been for the last few cherished moments, as we had gazed upon that holy place. We knew that we must leave the lake to the God who had created it. Alberta Anderson, Form Vb, Barclay House. [23]
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Page 24 text:
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THE RAIN The hollow drumming of rain on a wet city street Blends with the musical patter of hurrying feet. Street lamps are blurred by a silvery curtain of rain; Neon lights shimmer through hazy dimness, and then Gutters are flowing with muddy torrents and streams, Bubbling and eddying onward, reflecting the gleams Of a thousand headlights, glowing then slowly paling, Piercing the folds of rain, then quietly failing . . . Drip of the rain from eaves o ' erhanging the walk; Rhythms so varied and changing that they seem to mock The composer who labours all day to improve his style — And pools of water ' neath the eaves all the while Are rippling, as drop after drop breaks on their surface. Glittering silver in the glow of a lamp, as the surplus Of water floods the walk with a sudden surge. And the drumming of rain and the patter of feet seem to merge. MoRVEN McIlquham, Form Vb, Ross House- SPARTACUS ONE OF THE most inspiring passages of ancient history concerns a miserable slave of the Romans who rose to become a great legendary figure, and to lead his fellow slaves in a heroic fight against intolerable conditions and inhuman treatment — a man named Spartacus. Spartacus, a Thracian slave, born of generations of slaves, had never even tasted freedom, and, in common with other slaves, had known nothing but indescribable squalor. Spartacus was now a gladiator, with the only prospect ahead of him that of dying horribly in the arena for the pleasure of his degenerate masters, products of a corrupt Rome. Out of the depths of such wretchedness his undefeated spirit and essential humanity rose to make him leader of his fellow slaves and to defy a Rome at the height of her military and political power. The indomitable courage of Spartacus and his followers inspired other slaves to revolt, and soon their stronghold in the crater of mighty Mount Vesuvius was garrisoned by seventy thousand men. In spite of their strength the Romans were very much alarmed lest the states subject to them should rise to follow Spartacus ' s example, but the three armies sent to subjugate those united in their desperate fight for freedom were defeated. Spartacus and his followers held the field for three long years against furious onslaughts, until ( rassus, the richest man in Rome, and Pompey, the greatest general, managed to conquer those slaves who were emancipated for so short a time. The fact that they held out against overwhelming and insurmountable odds in number and arms was probably the reason that so little of this tremendous story was recorded by contemporary Romans. What we have of historical fact is that [22]
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Page 26 text:
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MIDAS Sunny morning . . . light on the wall like gold — Like gold! That man who came to me last night Said all I touched — the sheets turn stiff and bright! It works! Gold table and gold bed — I ' m rich! Gold pillow for my head, Golden curtains, golden wall. Shoes and cloak — all I wear — Golden brushes for my hair! Nothing cheap at all, at all — Golden buckle in my belt — Nothing silver, nothing felt! Out into the garden run. Richest! richest in the world! Water golden in the sun. Golden stones in the water hurled. Golden rose, golden tree. All I see golden grows. All for me! all for me! Back inside in ecstasy. Golden table, golden chair. Ring a newly golden bell — Touching fast as I am able. Seeing gold spring here and there. Maid, astonished, flies to tell Master ' s turned the room all yellow! That cook! The coffee looks too strong — Lower wages for the fellow! It tastes — he ' s tried to poison me! No. It ' s gold. Touch toast to trembling lips — Eggs! Ham! Butter! Jam! Let me eat them! Bated breath — Milk turns gold, defying sips . . . I ' ll never eat again. I ' ll starve to death. I ' ll starve to death. — My daughter, oh, my love. Come, comfort me! I ' ll tell you what I ' ve done. What deadly sin — my child! Your hand turns hard in mine. Your face is still. 0 gods, I didn ' t mean to ask for this — 1 didn ' t mean to kill the one I love . . . These fingers have the power To change warm flesh to metal shining cold. [24]
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