act i. sc. 3.
[495-1] The very words of a Highland laird, while on his death-bed, to his son.
[495-2] See Dryden, page 275.
[495-3] See Pope, page 331.
[495-4] A power which has dotted over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and military posts, whose morning drum-beat, following the sun, and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England.--DANIEL WEBSTER: _Speech, May 7, 1834._
Why should the brave Spanish soldier brag the sun never sets in the Spanish dominions, but ever shineth on one part or other we have conquered for our king?--CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH: _Advertisements for the Unexperienced, &c._ (Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Third Series, vol. iii. p. 49).
It may be said of them (the Hollanders) as of the Spaniards, that the sun never sets on their dominions.--GAGE: _New Survey of the West Indies. Epistle Dedicatory._ (London, 1648.)
I am called The richest monarch in the Christian world; The sun in my dominions never sets.
SCHILLER: _Don Karlos, act. i. sc. 6._
Altera figlia Di quel monarca, a cui Ne anco, quando annotta il sol tramonta
(The proud daughter of that monarch to whom when it grows dark [elsewhere] the sun never sets).--GUARINI: _Pastor Fido_ (1590). On the marriage of the Duke of Savoy with Catherine of Austria.
JAMES MONTGOMERY. 1771-1854.
When the good man yields his breath (For the good man never dies).[496-1]
_The Wanderer of Switzerland. Part v._
Gashed with honourable scars, Low in Glory's lap they lie; Though they fell, they fell like stars, Streaming splendour through the sky.
_The Battle of Alexandria._
Distinct as the billows, yet one as the sea.
_The Ocean. Line 54._
Once, in the flight of ages past, There lived a man.
_The Common Lot._
Counts his sure gains, and hurries back for more.
_The West Indies. Part iii._
Hope against hope, and ask till ye receive.[496-2]
_The World before the Flood. Canto v._
Joys too exquisite to last, And yet _more_ exquisite when past.
_The Little Cloud._
Bliss in possession will not last; Remembered joys are never past; At once the fountain, stream, and sea, They were, they are, they yet shall be.
_The Little Cloud._
Friend after friend departs; Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end.
_Friends._
Nor sink those stars in empty night: They hide themselves in heaven's own light.
_Friends._
'T is not the whole of life to live, Nor all of death to die.
_The Issues of Life and Death._
Beyond this vale of tears There is a life above, Unmeasured by the flight of years; And all that life is love.
_The Issues of Life and Death._
Night is the time to weep, To wet with unseen tears Those graves of memory where sleep The joys of other years.
_The Issues of Life and Death._
Who that hath ever been Could bear to be no more? Yet who would tread again the scene He trod through life before?
_The Falling Leaf._
Here in the body pent, Absent from Him I roam, Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day's march nearer home.
_At Home in Heaven._
If God hath made this world so fair, Where sin and death abound, How beautiful beyond compare Will paradise be found!
_The Earth full of God's Goodness._
Return unto thy rest, my soul, From all the wanderings of thy thought, From sickness unto death made whole, Safe through a thousand perils brought.
_Rest for the Soul._
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed,-- The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast.
_What is Prayer?_
Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye When none but God is near.
_What is Prayer?_
FOOTNOTES:
[496-1] Thneskein me lege tous agathous (Say not that the good die).--CALLIMACHUS: _Epigram x._
[496-2] See Barbauld, page 433.
SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 1772-1834.
He holds him with his glittering eye, And listens like a three years' child.[498-1]
_The Ancient Mariner. Part i._
Red as a rose is she.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part i._
We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part ii._
As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part ii._
Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part ii._
Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iii._
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iii._
The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper o'er the sea, Off shot the spectre-bark.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iii._
And thou art long and lank and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand.[498-2]
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
Alone, alone,--all, all alone; Alone on a wide, wide sea.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
A spring of love gush'd from my heart, And I bless'd them unaware.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part iv._
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part v._
A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part v._
Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head, Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vi._
So lonely 't was, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.
_The Ancient Mariner. Part vii._
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
_Christabel. Part i._
A lady richly clad as she, Beautiful exceedingly.
_Christabel. Part i._
Carv'd with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain.
_Christabel. Part i._
Her gentle limbs did she undress, And lay down in her loveliness.
_Christabel. Part i._
A sight to dream of, not to tell!
_Christabel. Part i._
That saints will aid if men will call; For the blue sky bends over all!
_Christabel. Conclusion to part i._
Each matin bell, the Baron saith, Knells us back to a world of death.
_Christabel. Part ii._
Her face, oh call it fair, not pale!
_Christabel. Part ii._
Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth, And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny, and youth is vain, And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
_Christabel. Part ii._
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,-- Like cliffs which had been rent asunder: A dreary sea now flows between.
_Christabel. Part ii._
Perhaps 't is pretty to force together Thoughts so all unlike each other; To mutter and mock a broken charm, To dally with wrong that does no harm.
_Christabel. Conclusion to Part ii._
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree, Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.
_Kubla Khan._
Ancestral voices prophesying war.
_Kubla Khan._
A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora.
_Kubla Khan._
For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.
_Kubla Khan._
Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care; The opening bud to heaven conveyed, And bade it blossom there.
_Epitaph on an Infant._
Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare, And shot my being through earth, sea, and air, Possessing all things with intensest love, O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there.
_France. An Ode. v._
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place (Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism, Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, Drops his blue-fring'd lids, and holds them close, And hooting at the glorious sun in heaven Cries out, "Where is it?"
_Fears in Solitude._
And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin Is pride that apes humility.[501-1]
_The Devil's Thoughts._
All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.
_Love._
Blest hour! it was a luxury--to be!
_Reflections on having left a Place of Retirement._
A charm For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom No sound is dissonant which tells of life.
_This Lime-tree Bower my Prison._
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course?
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines.
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost.
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
Earth with her thousand voices praises God.
_Hymn in the Vale of Chamouni._
Tranquillity! thou better name Than all the family of Fame.
_Ode to Tranquillity._
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.
_Dejection. An Ode. Stanza 1._
Joy is the sweet voice, joy the luminous cloud. We in ourselves rejoice! And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, All melodies the echoes of that voice, All colours a suffusion from that light.
_Dejection. An Ode. Stanza 5._
A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.
_The Three Graves._
Never, believe me, Appear the Immortals, Never alone.
_The Visit of the Gods._ (Imitated from Schiller.)
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn.
_A Christmas Carol. viii._
The knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust; His soul is with the saints, I trust.
_The Knight's Tomb._
It sounds like stories from the land of spirits If any man obtains that which he merits, Or any merit that which he obtains. . . . . . . . . . Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man? Three treasures,--love and light, And calm thoughts, regular as infants' breath; And three firm friends, more sure than day and night,-- Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
_Complaint. Ed. 1852. The Good Great Man. Ed. 1893._
My eyes make pictures when they are shut.
_A Day-Dream._
To know, to esteem, to love, and then to part, Makes up life's tale to many a feeling heart!
_On taking Leave of ----, 1817._
In many ways doth the full heart reveal The presence of the love it would conceal.
_Motto to Poems written in Later Life._
Nought cared this body for wind or weather When youth and I lived in 't together.
_Youth and Age._
Flowers are lovely; love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree; Oh the joys that came down shower-like, Of friendship, love, and liberty, Ere I was old!
_Youth and Age._
I have heard of reasons manifold Why Love must needs be blind, But this the best of all I hold,-- His eyes are in his mind.[503-1]
_To a Lady, Offended by a Sportive Observation._
What outward form and feature are He guesseth but in part; But what within is good and fair He seeth with the heart.
_To a Lady, Offended by a Sportive Observation._
Be that blind bard who on the Chian strand, By those deep sounds possessed with inward light, Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.[503-2]
_Fancy in Nubibus._
I counted two-and-seventy stenches, All well defined, and several stinks.
_Cologne._
The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
_Cologne._
Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows; Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the ocean.
_The Homeric Hexameter._ (Translated from Schiller.)
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column, In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.
_The Ovidian Elegiac Metre._ (From Schiller.)
I stood in unimaginable trance And agony that cannot be remembered.
_Remorse. Act iv. Sc. 3._
The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and watery depths,--all these have vanished; They live no longer in the faith of reason.
_Wallenstein. Part i. Act ii. Sc. 4._ (Translated from Schiller.)
I 've lived and loved.
_Wallenstein. Part i. Act ii. Sc. 6._
Clothing the palpable and familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn.
_The Death of Wallenstein. Act i. Sc. 1._
Often do the spirits Of great events stride on before the events, And in to-day already walks to-morrow.[504-1]
_The Death of Wallenstein. Act v. Sc. 1._
Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.[504-2]
_Biog. Lit. Chap. xv._
A dwarf sees farther than the giant when he has the giant's shoulder to mount on.[504-3]
_The Friend. Sec. i. Essay 8._
An instinctive taste teaches men to build their churches in flat countries, with spire steeples, which, as they cannot be referred to any other object, point as with silent finger to the sky and star.[504-4]
_Ibid., No. 14._
Reviewers are usually people who would have been poets, historians, biographers, if they could; they have tried their talents at one or the other, and have failed; therefore they turn critics.[505-1]
_Lectures on Shakespeare and Milton, p. 36. Delivered 1811-1812._
Schiller has the material sublime.
_Table Talk._
I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry; that is, prose,--words in their best order; poetry,--the best words in their best order.
_Table Talk._
That passage is what I call the sublime dashed to pieces by cutting too close with the fiery four-in-hand round the corner of nonsense.
_Table Talk._
Iago's soliloquy, the motive-hunting of a motiveless malignity--how awful it is!
_Notes on some other Plays of Shakespeare._
FOOTNOTES:
[498-1] Wordsworth, in his Notes to "We are Seven," claims to have written this line.
[498-2] Coleridge says: "For these lines I am indebted to Mr. Wordsworth."
[501-1] His favourite sin Is pride that apes humility.
SOUTHEY: _The Devil's Walk._
[503-1] See Shakespeare, page 57.
[503-2] And Iliad and Odyssey Rose to the music of the sea.
_Thalatta, p. 133._ (From the German of Stolberg.)
[504-1] Sed ita a principio inchoatum esse mundum ut certis rebus certa signa praecurrerent (Thus in the beginning the world was so made that certain signs come before certain events).--CICERO: _Divinatione, liber i. cap. 52._
Coming events cast their shadows before.--CAMPBELL: _Lochiel's Warning._
Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.--SHELLEY: _A Defence of Poetry._
[504-2] "A phrase," says Coleridge, "which I have borrowed from a Greek monk, who applies it to a patriarch of Constantinople."
[504-3] See Burton, page 185.
[504-4] See Wordsworth, page 481.
[505-1] Reviewers, with some rare exceptions, are a most stupid and malignant race. As a bankrupt thief turns thief-taker in despair, so an unsuccessful author turns critic.--SHELLEY: _Fragments of Adonais._
You know who critics are? The men who have failed in literature and art.--DISRAELI: _Lothair, chap. xxxv._
JOSIAH QUINCY. 1772-1864
If this bill [for the admission of Orleans Territory as a State] passes, it is my deliberate opinion that it is virtually a dissolution of the Union; that it will free the States from their moral obligation; and, as it will be the right of all, so it will be the duty of some, definitely to prepare for a separation,--amicably if they can, violently if they must.[505-2]
_Abridged Cong. Debates, Jan. 14, 1811. Vol. iv. p. 327._
FOOTNOTES:
[505-2] The gentleman [Mr. Quincy] cannot have forgotten his own sentiment, uttered even on the floor of this House, "Peaceably if we can, forcibly if we must."--HENRY CLAY: _Speech, Jan. 8, 1813._
ROBERT SOUTHEY. 1774-1843.
"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "The few locks which are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,-- Now tell me the reason I pray."
_The Old Man's Comforts, and how he gained them._
The march of intellect.[506-1]
_Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society. Vol. ii. p. 360. The Doctor, Chap. Extraordinary._
The laws are with us, and God on our side.
_On the Rise and Progress of Popular Disaffection_ (1817), _Essay viii. Vol. ii. p. 107._
Agreed to differ.
_Life of Wesley._
My days among the dead are passed; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old; My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.
_Occasional Pieces. xxiii._
How does the water Come down at Lodore?
_The Cataract of Lodore._
So I told them in rhyme, For of rhymes I had store.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
Through moss and through brake.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
Helter-skelter, Hurry-scurry.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
A sight to delight in.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
And so never ending, but always descending.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
And this way the water comes down at Lodore.
_The Cataract of Lodore._
From his brimstone bed, at break of day, A-walking the Devil is gone, To look at his little snug farm of the World, And see how his stock went on.
_The Devil's Walk. Stanza 1._
He passed a cottage with a double coach-house,-- A cottage of gentility; And he owned with a grin, That his favourite sin Is pride that apes humility.[507-1]
_The Devil's Walk. Stanza 8._
Where Washington hath left His awful memory A light for after times!
_Ode written during the War with America, 1814._
How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures; nor cloud, or speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven: In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths; Beneath her steady ray The desert circle spreads Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky. How beautiful is night!
_Thalaba. Book i. Stanza 1._
"But what good came of it at last?" Quoth little Peterkin. "Why, that I cannot tell," said he; "But 't was a famous victory."
_The Battle of Blenheim._
Blue, darkly, deeply, beautifully blue.[507-2]
_Madoc in Wales. Part i. 5._
What will not woman, gentle woman dare, When strong affection stirs her spirit up?
_Madoc in Wales. Part ii. 2._
And last of all an Admiral came, A terrible man with a terrible name,-- A name which you all know by sight very well, But which no one can speak, and no one can spell.
_The March to Moscow. Stanza 8._
They sin who tell us love can die; With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. . . . . . Love is indestructible, Its holy flame forever burneth; From heaven it came, to heaven returneth. . . . . . It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest-time of love is there.
_The Curse of Kehama. Canto x. Stanza 10._
Oh, when a mother meets on high The babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight?
_The Curse of Kehama. Canto x. Stanza 11._
Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe; But 't is the happy that have called thee so.
_The Curse of Kehama. Canto xv. Stanza 11._
The Satanic School.
_Vision of Judgment. Original Preface._
FOOTNOTES:
[506-1] See Burke, page 408.
[507-1] See Coleridge, page 501.
[507-2] "Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue," As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
BYRON: _Don Juan, canto iv. stanza 110._
CHARLES LAMB. 1775-1834.
The red-letter days now become, to all intents and purposes, dead-letter days.
_Oxford in the Vacation._
For with G. D., to be absent from the body is sometimes (not to speak profanely) to be present with the Lord.
_Oxford in the Vacation._
A clear fire, a clean hearth, and the rigour of the game.
_Mrs. Battle's Opinions on Whist._
Sentimentally I am disposed to harmony; but organically I am incapable of a tune.
_A Chapter on Ears._
Not if I know myself at all.
_The Old and New Schoolmaster._
It is good to love the unknown.
_Valentine's Day._
The pilasters reaching down were adorned with a glistering substance (I know not what) under glass (as it seemed), resembling--a homely fancy, but I judged it to be sugar-candy; yet to my raised imagination, divested of its homelier qualities, it appeared a glorified candy.
_My First Play._
Presents, I often say, endear absents.
_A Dissertation upon Roast Pig._
It argues an insensibility.
_A Dissertation upon Roast Pig._
Books which are no books.
_Detached Thoughts on Books._
Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
_Amicus Redivivus._
Gone before To that unknown and silent shore.
_Hester. Stanza 7._
I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days. All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
_Old Familiar Faces._
For thy sake, tobacco, I Would do anything but die.
_A Farewell to Tobacco._
And half had staggered that stout Stagirite.
_Written at Cambridge._
Who first invented work, and bound the free And holiday-rejoicing spirit down . . . . . . . . . To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood? . . . . . . . . . Sabbathless Satan!
_Work._
I like you and your book, ingenious Hone! In whose capacious all-embracing leaves The very marrow of tradition 's shown; And all that history, much that fiction weaves.
_To the Editor of the Every-Day Book._
He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.
_Captain Starkey._
Neat, not gaudy.[510-1]
_Letter to Wordsworth, 1806._
Martin, if dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!
_Lamb's Suppers._
Returning to town in the stage-coach, which was filled with Mr. Gilman's guests, we stopped for a minute or two at Kentish Town. A woman asked the coachman, "Are you full inside?" Upon which Lamb put his head through the window and said, "I am quite full inside; that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gilman's did the business for me."
_Autobiographical Recollections._ (Leslie.)
FOOTNOTES:
[510-1] See Shakespeare, page 130.
JAMES SMITH. 1775-1839.
No Drury Lane for you to-day.
_Rejected Addresses. The Baby's Debut._
I saw them go: one horse was blind, The tails of both hung down behind, Their shoes were on their feet.
_Rejected Addresses. The Baby's Debut._
Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait.
_The Theatre._
WILLIAM PITT. ---- -1840.
A strong nor'-wester 's blowing, Bill! Hark! don't ye hear it roar now? Lord help 'em, how I pities them Unhappy folks on shore now!
_The Sailor's Consolation._
My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots About their heads are flying!
_The Sailor's Consolation._
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 1775-1864.
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.
_Rose Aylmer._
Wearers of rings and chains! Pray do not take the pains To set me right. In vain my faults ye quote; I write as others wrote On Sunium's hight.
_The last Fruit of an old Tree. Epigram cvi._
Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world's,[511-1]-- Therefore on him no speech! And brief for thee, Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale, No man hath walk'd along our roads with steps So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue So varied in discourse.
_To Robert Browning._
The Siren waits thee, singing song for song.
_To Robert Browning._
But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have imbibed In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave: Shake one, and it awakens; then apply Its polisht lips to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.[512-1]
_Gebir. Book i._ (1798).
Past are three summers since she first beheld The ocean; all around the child await Some exclamation of amazement here. She coldly said, her long-lasht eyes abased, _Is this the mighty ocean? is this all?_ That wondrous soul Charoba once possest,-- Capacious, then, as earth or heaven could hold, Soul discontented with capacity,-- Is gone (I fear) forever. Need I say She was enchanted by the wicked spells Of Gebir, whom with lust of power inflamed The western winds have landed on our coast? I since have watcht her in lone retreat, Have heard her sigh and soften out the name.[512-2]
_Gebir. Book ii._
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved; and next to Nature, Art. I warm'd both hands against the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
_Dying Speech of an old Philosopher._
FOOTNOTES:
[511-1] Nor sequent centuries could hit Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
R. W. EMERSON: _May-Day and Other Pieces. Solution._
[512-1] See Wordsworth, page 480.
Poor shell! that Wordsworth so pounded and flattened in his marsh it no longer had the hoarseness of a sea, but of a hospital.--LANDOR: _Letter to John Forster._
[512-2] These lines were specially singled out for admiration by Shelley, Humphrey Davy, Scott, and many remarkable men.--FORSTER: _Life of Landor, vol. i. p. 95._
THOMAS CAMPBELL. 1777-1844.
'T is distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.[512-3]
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 7._
But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 40._
O Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save!
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 359._
Hope for a season bade the world farewell, And Freedom shriek'd as Kosciusko fell![513-1]
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 381._
On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 385._
And rival all but Shakespeare's name below.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 472._
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name?
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 5._
Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh what were man?--a world without a sun.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 21._
The world was sad, the garden was a wild, And man the hermit sigh'd--till woman smiled.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 37._
While Memory watches o'er the sad review Of joys that faded like the morning dew.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 45._
There shall he love when genial morn appears, Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 95._
And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 98._
That gems the starry girdle of the year.
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 194._
Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul!
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 263._
O star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there, To waft us home the message of despair?
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 325._
But sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.[513-2]
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 357._
Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave, oh leave the light of Hope behind! What though my winged hours of bliss have been Like angel visits, few and far between.[514-1]
_Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 375._
The hunter and the deer a shade.[514-2]
_O'Connor's Child. Stanza 5._
Another's sword has laid him low, Another's and another's; And every hand that dealt the blow-- Ah me! it was a brother's!
_O'Connor's Child. Stanza 10._
'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.[514-3]
_Lochiel's Warning._
Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field and his feet to the foe, And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
_Lochiel's Warning._
And rustic life and poverty Grow beautiful beneath his touch.
_Ode to the Memory of Burns._
Whose lines are mottoes of the heart, Whose truths electrify the sage.
_Ode to the Memory of Burns._
Ye mariners of England, That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!
_Ye Mariners of England._
Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.
_Ye Mariners of England._
When the stormy winds do blow;[515-1] When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
_Ye Mariners of England._
The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.
_Ye Mariners of England._
There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath For a time.
_Battle of the Baltic._
The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
_Hohenlinden._
Few, few shall part where many meet! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
_Hohenlinden._
There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin, The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill; For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.
_The Exile of Erin._
To bear is to conquer our fate.
_On visiting a Scene in Argyleshire._
The sentinel stars set their watch in the sky.[515-2]
_The Soldier's Dream._
In life's morning march, when my bosom was young.
_The Soldier's Dream._
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
_The Soldier's Dream._
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.
_To the Rainbow._
A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.
_Gertrude of Wyoming. Part i. Stanza 23._
O Love! in such a wilderness as this.
_Gertrude of Wyoming. Part iii. Stanza 1._
The torrent's smoothness, ere it dash below!
_Gertrude of Wyoming. Part iii. Stanza 5._
Again to the battle, Achaians! Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance! Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree, It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
_Song of the Greeks._
Drink ye to her that each loves best! And if you nurse a flame That 's told but to her mutual breast, We will not ask her name.
_Drink ye to Her._
To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die.
_Hallowed Ground._
Oh leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree![516-1]
_The Beech-Tree's Petition._
FOOTNOTES:
[512-3] See John Webster, page 181.
The mountains too, at a distance, appear airy masses and smooth, but seen near at hand they are rough.--DIOGENES LAERTIUS: _Pyrrho, ix._
[513-1] At length, fatigued with life, he bravely fell, And health with Boerhaave bade the world farewell.
CHURCH: _The Choice_ (1754).
[513-2] See Sterne, page 379.
[514-1] See Norris, page 281.
[514-2] See Freneau, page 443.
[514-3] See Coleridge, page 504.
[515-1] When the stormy winds do blow.--MARTYN PARKER: _Ye Gentlemen of England._
[515-2] The starres, bright centinels of the skies.--HABINGTON: _Castara, Dialogue between Night and Araphil._
[516-1] Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough!
G. P. MORRIS: _Woodman, spare that Tree._
HENRY CLAY. 1777-1852.
The gentleman [Josiah Quincy] cannot have forgotten his own sentiment, uttered even on the floor of this House, "Peaceably if we can, forcibly if we must."[516-2]
_Speech, 1813._
Government is a trust, and the officers of the government are trustees; and both the trust and the trustees are created for the benefit of the people.
_Speech at Ashland, Ky., March, 1829._
I have heard something said about allegiance to the South. I know no South, no North, no East, no West, to which I owe any allegiance.
_Speech, 1848._
Sir, I would rather be right than be President.
_Speech, 1850_ (referring to the Compromise Measures).
FOOTNOTES:
[516-2] See Quincy, page 505.
F. S. KEY. 1779-1843.
And the star-spangled banner, oh long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
_The Star-Spangled Banner._
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation![517-1] Then conquer we must when our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "In God is our trust!" And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
_The Star-Spangled Banner._
FOOTNOTES:
[517-1] It made and preserves us a nation.--MORRIS: _The Flag of our Union._
HORACE SMITH. 1779-1849.
Thinking is but an idle waste of thought, And nought is everything and everything is nought.
_Rejected Addresses. Cui Bono?_
In the name of the Prophet--figs.
_Johnson's Ghost._
And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory.
_Address to the Mummy at Belzoni's Exhibition._
THOMAS MOORE. 1779-1852.
When Time who steals our years away Shall steal our pleasures too, The mem'ry of the past will stay, And half our joys renew.
_Song. From Juvenile Poems._
Weep on! and as thy sorrows flow, I 'll taste the luxury of woe.
_Anacreontic._
Where bastard Freedom waves The fustian flag in mockery over slaves.
_To the Lord Viscount Forbes, written from the City of Washington._
How shall we rank thee upon glory's page, Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage?
_To Thomas Hume._
I knew, by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd Above the green elms, that a cottage was near; And I said, "If there 's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here."
_Ballad Stanzas._
Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
_A Canadian Boat-Song._
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight 's past.
_A Canadian Boat-Song._
The minds of some of our statesmen, like the pupil of the human eye, contract themselves the more, the stronger light there is shed upon them.
_Preface to Corruption and Intolerance._
Like a young eagle who has lent his plume To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom, See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart Which rank corruption destines for their heart.[518-1]
_Corruption._
A Persian's heaven is eas'ly made: 'T is but black eyes and lemonade.
_Intercepted Letters. Letter vi._
There was a little man, and he had a little soul; And he said, Little Soul, let us try, try, try!
_Little Man and Little Soul._
Go where glory waits thee![519-1] But while fame elates thee, Oh, still remember me!
_Go where Glory waits thee._
Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid,
_Oh breathe not his Name._
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
_Oh breathe not his Name._
The harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er; And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more.
_The Harp that once through Tara's Halls._
Who ran Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all.
_On the Death of Sheridan._
Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
_On the Death of Sheridan._
Good at a fight, but better at a play; Godlike in giving, but the devil to pay.
_On a Cast of Sheridan's Hand._
Though an angel should write, still 't is devils must print.
_The Fudges in England. Letter iii._
Fly not yet; 't is just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love the moon.
_Fly not yet._
Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.
_Fly not yet._
When did morning ever break, And find such beaming eyes awake?
_Fly not yet._
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.
_Oh think not my Spirits are always as light._
Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore.
_Rich and rare were the Gems she wore._
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.
_The Meeting of the Waters._
Oh, weep for the hour When to Eveleen's bower The lord of the valley with false vows came.
_Eveleen's Bower._
Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree?
_Come, send round the Wine._
No, the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close; As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look which she turn'd when he rose.
_Believe me, if all those endearing young Charms._
The moon looks On many brooks "The brook can see no moon but this."[521-1]
_While gazing on the Moon's Light._
And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
_Ill Omens._
'T is sweet to think that where'er we rove We are sure to find something blissful and dear; And that when we 're far from the lips we love, We 've but to make love to the lips we are near.
_'T is sweet to think._
'T is believ'd that this harp which I wake now for thee Was a siren of old who sung under the sea.
_The Origin of the Harp._
But there 's nothing half so sweet in life As love's young dream.
_Love's Young Dream._
To live with them is far less sweet Than to remember thee.[521-2]
_I saw thy Form._
Eyes of unholy blue.
_By that Lake whose gloomy Shore._
'T is the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone.
_The Last Rose of Summer._
When true hearts lie wither'd And fond ones are flown, Oh, who would inhabit This bleak world alone?
_The Last Rose of Summer._
And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear.
_The Young May Moon._
You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
_Farewell! But whenever you welcome the Hour._
Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.
_I 'd mourn the Hopes._
No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.
_Come o'er the Sea._
The light that lies In woman's eyes.
_The Time I 've lost in wooing._
My only books Were woman's looks,-- And folly 's all they 've taught me.
_The Time I 've lost in wooing._
I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, I but know that I love thee whatever thou art.
_Come, rest in this Bosom._
To live and die in scenes like this, With some we 've left behind us.
_As slow our Ship._
Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free, First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea.
_Remember Thee._
All that 's bright must fade,-- The brightest still the fleetest; All that 's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.
_All that 's Bright must fade._
Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!
_Those Evening Bells._
Oft in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken.
_Oft in the Stilly Night._
I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed.
_Oft in the Stilly Night._
As half in shade and half in sun This world along its path advances, May that side the sun 's upon Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!
_Peace be around Thee._
If I speak to thee in friendship's name, Thou think'st I speak too coldly; If I mention love's devoted flame, Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
_How shall I woo?_
A friendship that like love is warm; A love like friendship, steady.
_How shall I woo?_
The bird let loose in Eastern skies, Returning fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam; But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.
_Oh that I had Wings._
This world is all a fleeting show, For man's illusion given; The smiles of joy, the tears of woe, Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,-- There 's nothing true but Heaven.
_This World is all a fleeting Show._
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumph'd,--his people are free.
_Sound the loud Timbrel._
As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee.
As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.
_The Heart's Prayer._
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.
_Come, ye Disconsolate._
Oh call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold.
_Oh call it by some better Name._
When twilight dews are falling soft Upon the rosy sea, love, I watch the star whose beam so oft Has lighted me to thee, love.
_When Twilight Dews._
I give thee all,--I can no more, Though poor the off'ring be; My heart and lute are all the store That I can bring to thee.[525-1]
_My Heart and Lute._
Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?
_The Dream of Home._
To Greece we give our shining blades.
_Evenings in Greece. First Evening._
When thus the heart is in a vein Of tender thought, the simplest strain Can touch it with peculiar power.
_Evenings in Greece. First Evening._
If thou would'st have me sing and play As once I play'd and sung, First take this time-worn lute away, And bring one freshly strung.
_If Thou would'st have Me sing and play._
To sigh, yet feel no pain; To weep, yet scarce know why; To sport an hour with Beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by.
_The Blue Stocking._
Ay, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are! From this hour let the blood in their dastardly veins, That shrunk at the first touch of Liberty's war, Be wasted for tyrants, or stagnate in chains.
_On the Entry of the Austrians into Naples, 1821._
This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, The past, the future,--two eternities!
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last.
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
There 's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream.
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun, Grow pure by being purely shone upon.
_Lalla Rookh. The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan._
One morn a Peri at the gate Of Eden stood disconsolate.
_Paradise and the Peri._
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years,-- One minute of heaven is worth them all.
_Paradise and the Peri._
But the trail of the serpent is over them all.
_Paradise and the Peri._
Oh, ever thus, from childhood's hour, I 've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower But 't was the first to fade away. I never nurs'd a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well And love me, it was sure to die.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
Oh for a tongue to curse the slave Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might!
_The Fire-Worshippers._
Beholding heaven, and feeling hell.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
As sunshine broken in the rill, Though turned astray, is sunshine still.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea.
_The Fire-Worshippers._
Alas! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea When heaven was all tranquillity.
_Lalla Rookh. The Light of the Harem._
Love on through all ills, and love on till they die.
_Lalla Rookh. The Light of the Harem._
And oh if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is this!
_Lalla Rookh. The Light of the Harem._
Humility, that low, sweet root From which all heavenly virtues shoot.
_The Loves of the Angels. The Third Angel's Story._
FOOTNOTES:
[518-1] See Waller, page 220.
[519-1] This goin ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur.--LOWELL: _The Biglow Papers. First Series, No. 11._
[521-1] This image was suggested by the following thought, which occurs somewhere in Sir William Jones's Works: "The moon looks upon many night-flowers; the night-flower sees but one moon."
[521-2] In imitation of Shenstone's inscription, "Heu! quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse."
[525-1] This song was introduced in Kemble's "Lodoiska," act iii. sc. 1.
LORD DENMAN. 1779-1854.
A delusion, a mockery, and a snare.
_O'Connell v. The Queen, 11 Clark and Finnelly Reports._
The mere repetition of the _Cantilena_ of lawyers cannot make it law, unless it can be traced to some competent authority; and if it be irreconcilable, to some clear legal principle.
_O'Connell v. The Queen, 11 Clark and Finnelly Reports._
CLEMENT C. MOORE. 1779-1863.
'T was the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring,--not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
_A Visit from St. Nicholas._
LORD BROUGHAM. 1779-1868.
Let the soldier be abroad if he will, he can do nothing in this age. There is another personage,--a personage less imposing in the eyes of some, perhaps insignificant. The schoolmaster is abroad, and I trust to him, armed with his primer, against the soldier in full military array.
_Speech, Jan. 29, 1828._
In my mind, he was guilty of no error, he was chargeable with no exaggeration, he was betrayed by his fancy into no metaphor, who once said that all we see about us, kings, lords, and Commons, the whole machinery of the State, all the apparatus of the system, and its varied workings, end in simply bringing twelve good men into a box.
_Present State of the Law, Feb. 7, 1828._
Pursuit of knowledge under difficulties.[528-1]
Death was now armed with a new terror.[528-2]
FOOTNOTES:
[528-1] The title given by Lord Brougham to a book published in 1830.
[528-2] Brougham delivered a very warm panegyric upon the ex-Chancellor, and expressed a hope that he would make a good end, although to an expiring Chancellor death was now armed with a new terror.--CAMPBELL: _Lives of the Chancellors, vol. vii. p. 163._
Lord St. Leonards attributes this phrase to Sir Charles Wetherell, who used it on the occasion referred to by Lord Campbell.
From Edmund Curll's practice of issuing miserable catch-penny lives of every eminent person immediately after his decease, Arbuthnot wittily styled him "one of the new terrors of death."--CARRUTHERS: _Life of Pope_ (second edition), _p. 149_.
PAUL MOON JAMES. 1780-1854.
The scene was more beautiful far to the eye Than if day in its pride had arrayed it.
_The Beacon._
And o'er them the lighthouse looked lovely as hope,-- That star of life's tremulous ocean.
_The Beacon._
CHARLES MINER. 1780-1865.
When I see a merchant over-polite to his customers, begging them to taste a little brandy and throwing half his goods on the counter,--thinks I, that man has an axe to grind.
_Who 'll turn Grindstones._[528-3]
FOOTNOTES:
[528-3] From "Essays from the Desk of Poor Robert the Scribe," Doylestown, Pa., 1815. It first appeared in the "Wilkesbarre Gleaner," 1811.
JOHN C. CALHOUN. 1782-1850.
The very essence of a free government consists in considering offices as public trusts,[529-1] bestowed for the good of the country, and not for the benefit of an individual or a party.
_Speech, Feb. 13, 1835._
A power has risen up in the government greater than the people themselves, consisting of many and various and powerful interests, combined into one mass, and held together by the cohesive power of the vast surplus in the banks.[529-2]
_Speech, May 27, 1836._
FOOTNOTES:
[529-1] See Appendix, page 859.
[529-2] From this comes the phrase, "Cohesive power of public plunder."
DANIEL WEBSTER. 1782-1852.
(_From Webster's Works. Boston. 1857._)
Whatever makes men good Christians, makes them good citizens.
_Speech at Plymouth, Dec. 22, 1820._[529-3] _Vol. i. p. 44._
We wish that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce in all minds a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object to the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise! let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit!
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825. P. 62._
Venerable men! you have come down to us from a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out your lives, that you might behold this joyous day.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825. Vol. i. p. 64._
Mind is the great lever of all things; human thought is the process by which human ends are ultimately answered.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825. Vol. i. p. 71._
Knowledge, in truth, is the great sun in the firmament. Life and power are scattered with all its beams.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825. Vol. i. p. 74._
Let our object be our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country.
_Address on laying the Corner-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument, 1825. Vol. i. p. 78._
Knowledge is the only fountain both of the love and the principles of human liberty.
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 93._
The Bible is a book of faith, and a book of doctrine, and a book of morals, and a book of religion, of especial revelation from God.
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 102._
America has furnished to the world the character of Washington. And if our American institutions had done nothing else, that alone would have entitled them to the respect of mankind.
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 105._
Thank God! I--I also--am an American!
_Completion of Bunker Hill Monument, June 17, 1843. P. 107._
Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote.[530-1]
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. P. 133._
It is my living sentiment, and by the blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment,--Independence now and Independence forever.[531-1]
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. Vol. i. p. 136._
Although no sculptured marble should rise to their memory, nor engraved stone bear record of their deeds, yet will their remembrance be as lasting as the land they honored.
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. Vol. i. p. 146._
Washington is in the clear upper sky.[531-2]
_Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson, Aug. 2, 1826. Vol. i. p. 148._
He smote the rock of the national resources, and abundant streams of revenue gushed forth. He touched the dead corpse of Public Credit, and it sprung upon its feet.[531-3]
_Speech on Hamilton, March 10, 1831. P. 200._
One country, one constitution, one destiny.
_Speech, March 15, 1837. P. 349._
When tillage begins, other arts follow. The farmers therefore are the founders of human civilization.
_Remarks on Agriculture, Jan. 13, 1840. P. 457._
Sea of upturned faces.[531-4]
_Speech, Sept. 30, 1842. Vol. ii. p. 117._
Justice, sir, is the great interest of man on earth.
_On Mr. Justice Story, 1845. P. 300._
Liberty exists in proportion to wholesome restraint.
_Speech at the Charleston Bar Dinner, May 10, 1847. Vol. ii. p. 393._
The law: It has honored us; may we honor it.
_Toast at the Charleston Bar Dinner, May 10, 1847. Vol. ii. p. 394._
I have read their platform, and though I think there are some unsound places in it, I can stand upon it pretty well. But I see nothing in it both new and valuable. "What is valuable is not new, and what is new is not valuable."
_Speech at Marshfield, Sept. 1, 1848. P. 433._
Labour in this country is independent and proud. It has not to ask the patronage of capital, but capital solicits the aid of labor.
_Speech, April, 1824. Vol. iii. p. 141._
The gentleman has not seen how to reply to this, otherwise than by supposing me to have advanced the doctrine that a national debt is a national blessing.[532-1]
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 303._
I thank God, that if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit which would drag angels down.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 316._
I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston and Concord and Lexington and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 317._
The people's government, made for the people, made by the people, and answerable to the people.[532-2]
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. P. 321._
When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. Vol. iii. p. 342._
Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable.
_Second Speech on Foot's Resolution, Jan. 26, 1830. Vol. iii. p. 342._
God grants liberty only to those who love it, and are always ready to guard and defend it.
_Speech, June 3, 1834. Vol. iv. p. 47._
On this question of principle, while actual suffering was yet afar off, they [the Colonies] raised their flag against a power to which, for purposes of foreign conquest and subjugation, Rome in the height of her glory is not to be compared,--a power which has dotted over the surface of the whole globe with her possessions and military posts, whose morning drum-beat, following the sun,[533-1] and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England.[533-2]
_Speech, May 7, 1834. P. 110._
Inconsistencies of opinion, arising from changes of circumstances, are often justifiable.
_Speech, July 25 and 27, 1846. Vol. v. p. 187._
I was born an American; I will live an American; I shall die an American.[533-3]
_Speech, July 17, 1850. P. 437._
There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession.
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White, April 6, 1830. Vol. vi. p. 54._
There is nothing so powerful as truth,--and often nothing so strange.
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White. Vol. vi. p. 68._
Fearful concatenation of circumstances.[534-1]
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White. Vol. vi. p. 88._
A sense of duty pursues us ever. It is omnipresent, like the Deity. If we take to ourselves the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, duty performed or duty violated is still with us, for our happiness or our misery. If we say the darkness shall cover us, in the darkness as in the light our obligations are yet with us.
_Argument on the Murder of Captain White. Vol. vi. p. 105._
I shall defer my visit to Faneuil Hall, the cradle of American liberty, until its doors shall fly open on golden hinges to lovers of Union as well as lovers of liberty.[534-2]
_Letter, April, 1851._
FOOTNOTES:
[529-3] This oration will be read five hundred years hence with as much rapture as it was heard. It ought to be read at the end of every century, and indeed at the end of every year, forever and ever.--JOHN ADAMS: _Letter to Webster, Dec. 23, 1821._
[530-1] Mr. Adams, describing a conversation with Jonathan Sewall in 1774, says: "I answered that the die was now cast; I had passed the Rubicon. Swim or sink, live or die, survive or perish with my country was my unalterable determination."--JOHN ADAMS: _Works, vol. iv. p. 8._
Live or die, sink or swim.--PEELE: _Edward I._ (1584?).
[531-1] Mr. Webster says of Mr. Adams: "On the day of his death, hearing the noise of bells and cannon, he asked the occasion. On being reminded that it was 'Independent Day,' he replied, 'Independence forever.'"--_Works, vol. i. p. 150._ BANCROFT: _History of the United States, vol. vii. p. 65._
[531-2] We shall be strong to run the race, And climb the upper sky.
WATTS: _Spiritual Hymns, xxiv._
[531-3] He it was that first gave to the law the air of a science. He found it a skeleton, and clothed it with life, colour, and complexion; he embraced the cold statue, and by his touch it grew into youth, health, and beauty.--BARRY YELVERTON (Lord Avonmore): _On Blackstone._
[531-4] See Scott, page 493.
[532-1] A national debt, if it is not excessive, will be to us a national blessing.--ALEXANDER HAMILTON.
[532-2] When the State of Pennsylvania held its convention to consider the Constitution of the United States, Judge Wilson said of the introductory clause, "We, the people, do ordain and establish," etc.: "It is not an unmeaning flourish. The expressions declare in a practical manner the principle of this Constitution. It is ordained and established by the people themselves." This was regarded as an authoritative exposition.--_The Nation._
That government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.--ABRAHAM LINCOLN: _Speech at Gettysburg, Nov. 19, 1863._
[533-1] See Scott, page 495.
[533-2] The martial airs of England Encircle still the earth.
AMELIA B. RICHARDS: _The Martial Airs of England._
[533-3] See Patrick Henry, page 429.
[534-1] See Scott, page 494.
[534-2] Mr. Webster's reply to the invitation of his friends, who had been refused the use of Faneuil Hall by the Mayor and Aldermen of Boston.
JANE TAYLOR. 1783-1824.
Though man a thinking being is defined, Few use the grand prerogative of mind. How few think justly of the thinking few! How many never think, who think they do!
_Essays in Rhyme._ (_On Morals and Manners. Prejudice._) _Essay i. Stanza 45._
Far from mortal cares retreating, Sordid hopes and vain desires, Here, our willing footsteps meeting, Every heart to heaven aspires.
_Hymn._
I thank the goodness and the grace Which on my birth have smiled, And made me, in these Christian days, A happy Christian child.
_A Child's Hymn of Praise._
Oh that it were my chief delight To do the things I ought! Then let me try with all my might To mind what I am taught.
_For a Very Little Child._[535-1]
Who ran to help me when I fell, And would some pretty story tell, Or kiss the place to make it well? My mother.
_My Mother._
FOOTNOTES:
[535-1] Written by Ann Taylor.
REGINALD HEBER. 1783-1826.
Failed the bright promise of your early day.
_Palestine._
No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung; Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.[535-2] Majestic silence!
_Palestine._
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
_Epiphany._
By cool Siloam's shady rill How sweet the lily grows!
_First Sunday after Epiphany. No. ii._
When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
_Seventh Sunday after Trinity._
Death rides on every passing breeze, He lurks in every flower.
_At a Funeral. No. i._
Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb.
_At a Funeral. No. ii._
Thus heavenly hope is all serene, But earthly hope, how bright soe'er, Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene, As false and fleeting as 't is fair.
_On Heavenly Hope and Earthly Hope._
From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand.
_Missionary Hymn._
Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile.
_Missionary Hymn._
I see them on their winding way, About their ranks the moonbeams play.
_Lines written to a March._
FOOTNOTES:
[535-2] Altered in later editions to--
No workman's steel, no ponderous axes rung, Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung.
WASHINGTON IRVING. 1783-1859.
Free-livers on a small scale, who are prodigal within the compass of a guinea.
_The Stout Gentleman._
The almighty dollar,[536-1] that great object of universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages.
_The Creole Village._
FOOTNOTES:
[536-1] See Jonson, page 178.
LEIGH HUNT. 1784-1859.
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace.
_Abou Ben Adhem._
Write me as one who loves his fellow-men.
_Abou Ben Adhem._
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
_Abou Ben Adhem._
Oh for a seat in some poetic nook, Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!
_Politics and Poetics._
With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.
_The Story of Rimini._
SAMUEL WOODWORTH. 1785-1842.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
_The Old Oaken Bucket._
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well.
_The Old Oaken Bucket._
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
_The Old Oaken Bucket._
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 1785-1842.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast. And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While like the eagle free Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee.
_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea._
While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea.
_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea._
When looks were fond and words were few.
_Poet's Bridal-day Song._
SIR W. F. P. NAPIER. 1785-1860.
Napoleon's troops fought in bright fields, where every helmet caught some gleams of glory; but the British soldier conquered under the cool shade of aristocracy. No honours awaited his daring, no despatch gave his name to the applauses of his countrymen; his life of danger and hardship was uncheered by hope, his death unnoticed.
_Peninsular War_ (1810). _Vol. ii. Book xi. Chap. iii._
JOHN PIERPONT. 1785-1866.
A weapon that comes down as still As snowflakes fall upon the sod; But executes a freeman's will, As lightning does the will of God; And from its force nor doors nor locks Can shield you,--'t is the ballot-box.
_A Word from a Petitioner._
From every place below the skies The grateful song, the fervent prayer,-- The incense of the heart,[538-1]--may rise To heaven, and find acceptance there.
_Every Place a Temple._
FOOTNOTES:
[538-1] See Cotton, page 362.
BRYAN W. PROCTER. 1787-1874.
The sea! the sea! the open sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
_The Sea._
I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoe'er I go.
_The Sea._
I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.
_The Sea._
Touch us gently, Time![538-2] Let us glide adown thy stream Gently,--as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream.
_Touch us gently, Time._
FOOTNOTES:
[538-2] See Crabbe, page 445.
LORD BYRON 1788-1824.
Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky.
_Farewell! if ever fondest Prayer._
I only know we loved in vain; I only feel--farewell! farewell!
_Farewell! if ever fondest Prayer._
When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years.
_When we Two parted._
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 6._
'T is pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book 's a book, although there 's nothing in 't.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 51._
With just enough of learning to misquote.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 66._
As soon Seek roses in December, ice in June; Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff; Believe a woman or an epitaph, Or any other thing that 's false, before You trust in critics.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 75._
Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 326._
Oh, Amos Cottle! Phoebus! what a name!
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 399._
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.[539-1]
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 826._
Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires: This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,-- Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.
_English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 839._
Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh give me back my heart!
_Maid of Athens._
Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 5._
If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 7._
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 9._
Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 10._
Might shake the saintship of an anchorite.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 11._
Adieu! adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 13._
My native land, good night!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 13._
O Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 15._
In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 20._
By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 40._
Still from the fount of joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.[540-1]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 82._
War, war is still the cry,--"war even to the knife!"[541-1]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. Stanza 86._
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
The dome of thought, the palace of the soul.[541-2]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 6._
Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 23._
None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 24._
But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 26._
Coop'd in their winged, sea-girt citadel.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 28._
Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth! Immortal, though no more! though fallen, great!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 73._
Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not, Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow?
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 76._
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state: An hour may lay it in the dust.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 84._
Land of lost gods and godlike men.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 85._
Where'er we tread, 't is haunted, holy ground.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 88._
Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto ii. Stanza 88._
Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 1._
Once more upon the waters! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 2._
I am as a weed Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sail Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 2._
He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,[542-1] So that no wonder waits him.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 5._
Years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb, And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 8._
There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 21._
But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it?--No! 't was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street. On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 22._
He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 23._
And there was mounting in hot haste.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 25._
Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come! they come!"
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 25._
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 27._
Battle's magnificently stern array.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 28._
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 32._
But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 42._
He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; He who surpasses or subdues mankind Must look down on the hate of those below.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 45._
All tenantless, save to the crannying wind.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 47._
The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 55._
He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 57._
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 70._
By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 71._
I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me;[543-1] and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 72._
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 85._
On the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 86._
All is concentr'd in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 89._
In solitude, where we are least alone.[544-1]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 90._
The sky is changed,--and such a change! O night And storm and darkness! ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, Leaps the live thunder.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 92._
Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 107._
Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 107._
I have not loved the world, nor the world me.[544-2]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 113._
I stood Among them, but not of them; in a shroud Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 113._
I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, A palace and a prison on each hand.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 1._
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 1._
Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 3._
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 10._
Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo, The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe![545-1]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 12._
There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 19._
Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 23._
The cold, the changed, perchance the dead, anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost,--too many, yet how few!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 24._
Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till--'t is gone, and all is gray.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 29._
The Ariosto of the North.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 40._
Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.[545-2]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 42._
Fills The air around with beauty.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 49._
Let these describe the undescribable.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 53._
The starry Galileo with his woes.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 54._
Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar, Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 57._
The poetry of speech.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 58._
The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss, And boil in endless torture.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 69._
Then farewell Horace, whom I hated so,-- Not for thy faults, but mine.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 77._
O Rome! my country! city of the soul!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 78._
The Niobe of nations! there she stands.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 79._
Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 98._
Heaven gives its favourites--early death.[546-1]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 102._
History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 108._
Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 109._
Tully was not so eloquent as thou, Thou nameless column with the buried base.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 110._
Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115._
The nympholepsy of some fond despair.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115._
Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied forth.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 115._
Alas! our young affections run to waste, Or water but the desert.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 120._
I see before me the gladiator lie.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 140._
There were his young barbarians all at play; There was their Dacian mother: he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 141._
"While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls--the world."[546-2]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 145._
Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 168._
Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,[547-1] With one fair spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And hating no one, love but only her!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 177._
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; There is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 178._
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin,--his control Stops with the shore.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179._
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.[547-2]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179._
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow,-- Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.[547-3]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 182._
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 183._
And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy I wantoned with thy breakers, . . . . . And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane,--as I do here.[548-1]
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 184._
And what is writ is writ,-- Would it were worthier!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 185._
Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,-- A sound which makes us linger; yet--farewell!
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 186._
Hands promiscuously applied, Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side.
_The Waltz._
He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled,-- The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, Before decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers.
_The Giaour. Line 68._
Such is the aspect of this shore; 'T is Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.
_The Giaour. Line 90._
Shrine of the mighty! can it be That this is all remains of thee?
_The Giaour. Line 106._
For freedom's battle, once begun, Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won.
_The Giaour. Line 123._
And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own; And every woe a tear can claim, Except an erring sister's shame.
_The Giaour. Line 418._
The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed.
_The Giaour. Line 957._
Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock.
_The Giaour. Line 969._
The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name.
_The Giaour. Line 1099._
I die,--but first I have possess'd, And come what may, I _have been_ bless'd.
_The Giaour. Line 1114._
She was a form of life and light That seen, became a part of sight, And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye, The morning-star of memory! Yes, love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire With angels shared, by Alla given, To lift from earth our low desire.
_The Giaour. Line 1127._
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime; Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?[549-1]
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 1._
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all save the spirit of man is divine?
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 1._
Who hath not proved how feebly words essay To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray? Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart, confess The might, the majesty of loveliness?
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 6._
The light of love,[550-1] the purity of grace, The mind, the music breathing from her face,[550-2] The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,-- And oh, that eye was in itself a soul!
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto i. Stanza 6._
The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle.
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 2._
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life, The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 20._
He makes a solitude, and calls it--peace![550-3]
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 20._
Hark! to the hurried question of despair: "Where is my child?"--an echo answers, "Where?"[550-4]
_The Bride of Abydos. Canto ii. Stanza 27._
The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.
_The Corsair. Preface._
O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,[550-5] Survey our empire, and behold our home! These are our realms, no limit to their sway,-- Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 1._
Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 1._
She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 3._
The power of thought,--the magic of the mind!
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 8._
The many still must labour for the one.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 8._
There was a laughing devil in his sneer.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 9._
Hope withering fled, and Mercy sighed farewell!
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 9._
Farewell! For in that word, that fatal word,--howe'er We promise, hope, believe,--there breathes despair.
_The Corsair. Canto i. Stanza 15._
No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
_The Corsair. Canto iii. Stanza 22._
He left a corsair's name to other times, Link'd with one virtue and a thousand crimes.[551-1]
_The Corsair. Canto iii. Stanza 24._
Lord of himself,--that heritage of woe!
_Lara. Canto i. Stanza 2._
She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that 's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.[551-2]
_Hebrew Melodies. She walks in Beauty._
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.
_The Destruction of Sennacherib._
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.
_Parisina. Stanza 1._
Yet in my lineaments they trace Some features of my father's face.
_Parisina. Stanza 13._
Fare thee well! and if forever, Still forever fare thee well.
_Fare thee well._
Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.[552-1]
_A Sketch._
In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
_Stanzas to Augusta._
The careful pilot of my proper woe.
_Epistle to Augusta. Stanza 3._
When all of genius which can perish dies.
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 22._
Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 68._
Who track the steps of glory to the grave.
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 74._
Sighing that Nature form'd but one such man, And broke the die, in moulding Sheridan.[552-2]
_Monody on the Death of Sheridan. Line 117._
O God! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood.
_Prisoner of Chillon. Stanza 8._
And both were young, and one was beautiful.
_The Dream. Stanza 2._
And to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him.
_The Dream. Stanza 2._
She was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts,[553-1] Which terminated all.
_The Dream. Stanza 2._
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.
_The Dream. Stanza 3._
And they were canopied by the blue sky, So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful That God alone was to be seen in heaven.
_The Dream. Stanza 4._
There 's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
_Stanzas for Music._
I had a dream which was not all a dream.
_Darkness._
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea; But before I go, Tom Moore, Here 's a double health to thee!
_To Thomas Moore._
Here 's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate; And whatever sky 's above me, Here 's a heart for every fate.[553-2]
_To Thomas Moore._
Were 't the last drop in the well, As I gasp'd upon the brink, Ere my fainting spirit fell 'T is to thee that I would drink.
_To Thomas Moore._
So we 'll go no more a-roving So late into the night.
_So we 'll go._
Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crowned him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
_Manfred. Act i. Sc. 1._
But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar.
_Manfred. Act i. Sc. 2._
Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth; but actions are our epochs.
_Manfred. Act ii. Sc. 1._
The heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old! The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
_Manfred. Act iii. Sc. 4._
Which makes life itself a lie, Flattering dust with eternity.
_Sardanapalus. Act i. Sc. 2._
By all that 's good and glorious.
_Sardanapalus. Act i. Sc. 2._
I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse,--borne away with every breath!
_Sardanapalus. Act iv. Sc. 1._
The dust we tread upon was once alive.
_Sardanapalus. Act iv. Sc. 1._
For most men (till by losing rendered sager) Will back their own opinions by a wager.
_Beppo. Stanza 27._
Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto, Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.
_Beppo. Stanza 32._
His heart was one of those which most enamour us,-- Wax to receive, and marble to retain.[554-1]
_Beppo. Stanza 34._
Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.
_Beppo. Stanza 39._
That soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.
_Beppo. Stanza 44._
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.
_Beppo. Stanza 45._
O Mirth and Innocence! O milk and water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days.
_Beppo. Stanza 80._
And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human power Which could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong.
_Mazeppa. Stanza 10._
They never fail who die In a great cause.
_Marino Faliero. Act ii. Sc. 2._
Whose game was empires and whose stakes were thrones, Whose table earth, whose dice were human bones.
_Age of Bronze. Stanza 3._
I loved my country, and I hated him.
_The Vision of Judgment. lxxxiii._
Sublime tobacco! which from east to west Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest.
_The Island. Canto ii. Stanza 19._
Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe; Like other charmers, wooing the caress More dazzlingly when daring in full dress; Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties--give me a cigar!
_The Island. Canto ii. Stanza 19._
My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone!
_On my Thirty-sixth Year._
Brave men were living before Agamemnon.[555-1]
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 5._
In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine "incomparable oil," Macassar!
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 17._
But, oh ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly,--have they not henpeck'd you all?
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 22._
The languages, especially the dead, The sciences, and most of all the abstruse, The arts, at least all such as could be said To be the most remote from common use.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 40._
Her stature tall,--I hate a dumpy woman.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 61._
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 83._
And whispering, "I will ne'er consent,"--consented.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 117._
'T is sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 123._
Sweet is revenge--especially to women.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 124._
And truant husband should return, and say, "My dear, I was the first who came away."
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 141._
Man's love is of man's life a thing apart; 'T is woman's whole existence.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 194._
In my hot youth, when George the Third was king.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 212._
So for a good old-gentlemanly vice I think I must take up with avarice.[556-1]
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 216._
What is the end of fame? 'T is but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper.
_Don Juan. Canto i. Stanza 218._
At leaving even the most unpleasant people And places, one keeps looking at the steeple.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 14._
There 's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms As rum and true religion.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 34._
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 53._
All who joy would win Must share it, happiness was born a twin.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 172._
Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 178._
A long, long kiss,--a kiss of youth and love.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 186._
Alas, the love of women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing.
_Don Juan. Canto ii. Stanza 199._
In her first passion woman loves her lover: In all the others, all she loves is love.[557-1]
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 3._
He was the mildest manner'd man That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 41._
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung. . . . . . Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all except their sun is set.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 1._
The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 3._
Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 7._
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave,-- Think ye he meant them for a slave?
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 10._
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing save the waves and I May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die.[558-1]
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 86. 16._
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 88._
Ah, surely nothing dies but something mourns.
_Don Juan. Canto iii. Stanza 108._
And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'T is that I may not weep.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 4._
The precious porcelain of human clay.[558-2]
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 11._
"Whom the gods love die young," was said of yore.[558-3]
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 12._
Perhaps the early grave Which men weep over may be meant to save.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 12._
And her face so fair Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.[558-4]
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 29._
These two hated with a hate Found only on the stage.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 93._
"Arcades ambo,"--_id est_, blackguards both.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 93._
I 've stood upon Achilles' tomb, And heard Troy doubted: time will doubt of Rome.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 101._
Oh "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue!"[559-1] As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
_Don Juan. Canto iv. Stanza 110._
There 's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 5._
But all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.[559-2]
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 27._
And puts himself upon his good behaviour.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 47._
That all-softening, overpowering knell, The tocsin of the soul,--the dinner bell.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 49._
The women pardon'd all except her face.
_Don Juan. Canto v. Stanza 113._
Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious, Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.
_Don Juan. Canto vi. Stanza 7._
A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase By which such things are settled nowadays.
_Don Juan. Canto vi. Stanza 78._
The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.
_Don Juan. Canto viii. Stanza 3._
Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss Was printed _Grove_, although his name was Grose.
_Don Juan. Canto viii. Stanza 18._
What a strange thing is man! and what a stranger Is woman!
_Don Juan. Canto ix. Stanza 64._
And wrinkles, the damned democrats, won't flatter.
_Don Juan. Canto x. Stanza 24._
Oh for a forty-parson power!
_Don Juan. Canto x. Stanza 34._
When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter," And proved it,--'t was no matter what he said.[560-1]
_Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 1._
And after all, what is a lie? 'T is but The truth in masquerade.
_Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 37._
'T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.
_Don Juan. Canto xi. Stanza 59._
Of all tales 't is the saddest,--and more sad, Because it makes us smile.
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. stanza 9._
Cervantes smil'd Spain's chivalry away.
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 11._
Society is now one polish'd horde, Formed of two mighty tribes, the _Bores_ and _Bored_.
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 95._
All human history attests That happiness for man,--the hungry sinner!-- Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.[560-2]
_Don Juan. Canto xiii. Stanza 99._
'T is strange, but true; for truth is always strange,-- Stranger than fiction.
_Don Juan. Canto xiv. Stanza 101._
The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
_Don Juan. Canto xv. Stanza 13._
A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.
_Don Juan. Canto xv. Stanza 43._
Friendship is Love without his wings.
_L'Amitie est l'Amour sans Ailes._
I awoke one morning and found myself famous.
_Memoranda from his Life, by Moore, Chap. xiv._
The best of prophets of the future is the past.
_Letter, Jan. 28, 1821._
What say you to such a supper with such a woman?[561-1]
_Note to a Letter on Bowles's Strictures._
FOOTNOTES:
[539-1] See Waller, pages 219-220.
[540-1] Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat
(In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter, which stings in the very flowers).--LUCRETIUS: _iv. 1133._
[541-1] "War even to the knife" was the reply of Palafox, the governor of Saragossa, when summoned to surrender by the French, who besieged that city in 1808.
[541-2] See Waller, page 221.
[542-1] See Sheridan, page 443.
[543-1] I am a part of all that I have met.--TENNYSON: _Ulysses._
[544-1] See Gibbon, page 430.
[544-2] Good bye, proud world; I 'm going home. Thou art not my friend, and I 'm not thine.
EMERSON: _Good Bye, proud World._
See Johnson, page 374.
[545-1] See Wordsworth, page 474.
[545-2] A translation of the famous sonnet of Filicaja: "Italia, Italia! O tu cui feo la sorte."
[546-1] See Wordsworth, page 478.
[546-2] Literally the exclamation of the pilgrims in the eighth century.
[547-1] See Cowper, page 418.
[547-2] See Pope, page 341.
[547-3] And thou vast ocean, on whose awful face Time's iron feet can print no ruin-trace.
ROBERT MONTGOMERY: _The Omnipresence of the Deity._
[548-1] He laid his hand upon "the ocean's mane," And played familiar with his hoary locks.
POLLOK: _The Course of Time, book iv. line 389._
[549-1] Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom, Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom, Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose!
GOETHE: _Wilhelm Meister._
[550-1] See Gray, page 382.
[550-2] See Lovelace, page 259. Browne, page 218.
[550-3] Solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant (They make solitude, which they call peace).--TACITUS: _Agricola, c. 30._
[550-4] I came to the place of my birth, and cried, "The friends of my youth, where are they?" And echo answered, "Where are they?"--_Arabic MS._
[550-5] See Churchill, page 413.
To all nations their empire will be dreadful, because their ships will sail wherever billows roll or winds can waft them.--DALRYMPLE: _Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 152._
[551-1] See Burton, page 186.
[551-2] The subject of these lines was Mrs. R. Wilmot.--_Berry Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 7._
[552-1] See Congreve, page 294.
[552-2] Natura il fece, e poi ruppe la stampa (Nature made him, and then broke the mould).--ARIOSTO: _Orlando Furioso, canto x. stanza 84._
The idea that Nature lost the perfect mould has been a favorite one with all song-writers and poets, and is found in the literature of all European nations.--_Book of English Songs, p. 28._
[553-1] She floats upon the river of his thoughts.--LONGFELLOW: _The Spanish Student, act ii. sc. 3._
[553-2] With a heart for any fate.--LONGFELLOW: _A Psalm of Life._
[554-1] My heart is wax to be moulded as she pleases, but enduring as marble to retain.--CERVANTES: _The Little Gypsy._
[555-1] Vixerunt fortes ante Agamemnona Multi.
HORACE: _Ode iv. 9. 25._
[556-1] See Middleton, page 173.
[557-1] Dans les premieres passions les femmes aiment l'amant, et dans les autres elles aiment l'amour.--ROCHEFOUCAULD: _Maxim 471._
[558-1] See Shakespeare, page 63.
[558-2] See Dryden, page 277.
[558-3] See Wordsworth, page 479.
[558-4] All her innocent thoughts Like rose-leaves scatter'd.
JOHN WILSON: _On the Death of a Child._ (1812.)
[559-1] See Southey, page 507.
[559-2] See Robert Walpole, page 304.
[560-1] What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind.--T. H. KEY (once Head Master of University College School). On the authority of F. J. Furnivall.
[560-2] For a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner.--PIOZZI: _Anecdotes of Samuel Johnson, p. 149._
[561-1] See Lady Montagu, page 350.
WILLIAM KNOX. 1789-1825.
Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud? Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, He passes from life to his rest in the grave.[561-2]
_Mortality._[561-3]
FOOTNOTES:
[561-2] Abraham Lincoln was very fond of repeating these lines.
[561-3] From Knox's "Songs of Israel," 1824.
ALFRED BUNN. 1790-1860.
I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls, With vassals and serfs at my side.
_Song._
The light of other days[561-4] is faded, And all their glories past.
_Song._
The heart bowed down by weight of woe To weakest hope will cling.
_Song._
FOOTNOTES:
[561-4] See Moore, page 523.
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 1790-1867.
Strike--for your altars and your fires! Strike--for the green graves of your sires! God, and your native land!
_Marco Bozzaris._
Come to the bridal chamber, Death! Come to the mother's, when she feels For the first time her first-born's breath! Come when the blessed seals That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke! Come in consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake shock, the ocean storm! Come when the heart beats high and warm, With banquet song, and dance, and wine! And thou art terrible!--the tear, The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, And all we know or dream or fear Of agony are thine.
_Marco Bozzaris._
But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
_Marco Bozzaris._
One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die.
_Marco Bozzaris._
Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines, Shrines to no code or creed confined,-- The Delphian vales, the Palestines, The Meccas of the mind.
_Burns._
Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee,[562-1] Nor named thee but to praise.
_On the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake._
There is an evening twilight of the heart, When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.
_Twilight._
They love their land because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his Majesty.
_Connecticut._
This bank-note world.
_Alnwick Castle._
Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt, The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt, The Douglas in red herrings.
_Alnwick Castle._
FOOTNOTES:
[562-1] See Rogers, page 455.
CHARLES WOLFE. 1791-1823.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried.
_The Burial of Sir John Moore._
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
_The Burial of Sir John Moore._
Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
_The Burial of Sir John Moore._
If I had thought thou couldst have died, I might not weep for thee; But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou couldst mortal be.
_To Mary._
Yet there was round thee such a dawn Of light, ne'er seen before, As fancy never could have drawn, And never can restore.
_To Mary._
Go, forget me! why should sorrow O'er that brow a shadow fling? Go, forget me, and to-morrow Brightly smile and sweetly sing! Smile,--though I shall not be near thee; Sing,--though I shall never hear thee!
_Go, forget me!_
HENRY HART MILMAN. 1791-1868.
And the cold marble leapt to life a god.
_The Belvedere Apollo._
Too fair to worship, too divine to love.
_The Belvedere Apollo._
CHARLES SPRAGUE. 1791-1875.
Lo where the stage, the poor, degraded stage, Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age.
_Curiosity._
Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends, An incarnation of fat dividends.
_Curiosity._
Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze We lift our heads, a race of other days.
_Centennial Ode. Stanza 22._
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctors' spite; Thy clouds all other clouds dispel, And lap me in delight.
_To my Cigar._
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. 1792-1822.
Then black despair, The shadow of a starless night, was thrown Over the world in which I moved alone.
_The Revolt of Islam. Dedication. Stanza 6._
With hue like that when some great painter dips His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse.
_The Revolt of Islam. Canto v. Stanza 23._
The awful shadow of some unseen Power Floats, tho' unseen, amongst us.
_Hymn to Intellectual Beauty._
The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument, Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song In sorrow.
_Adonais. xxx._
A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift.
_Adonais. xxxii._
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of eternity.
_Adonais. lii._
Oh thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth.
_Ode to the West Wind._
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss and flowers So sweet, the sense faints picturing them.
_Ode to the West Wind._
That orbed maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
_The Cloud. iv._
We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
_To a Skylark. Line 86._
Kings are like stars,--they rise and set, they have The worship of the world, but no repose.[565-1]
_Hellas. Line 195._
The moon of Mahomet Arose, and it shall set; While, blazoned as on heaven's immortal noon, The cross leads generations on.
_Hellas. Line 221._
The world's great age begins anew, The golden years return, The earth doth like a snake renew Her winter weeds outworn.
_Hellas. Line 1060._
What! alive, and so bold, O earth?
_Written on hearing the News of the Death of Napoleon._
All love is sweet, Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever. . . . . . . They who inspire it most are fortunate, As I am now; but those who feel it most Are happier still.[566-1]
_Prometheus Unbound. Act ii. Sc. 5._
Those who inflict must suffer, for they see The work of their own hearts, and this must be Our chastisement or recompense.
_Julian and Maddalo. Line 482._
Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong: They learn in suffering what they teach in song.[566-2]
_Julian and Maddalo. Line 544._
I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear.
_Stanzas written in Dejection, near Naples. Stanza 4._
Peter was dull; he was at first Dull,--oh so dull, so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed, Still with this dulness was he cursed! Dull,--beyond all conception, dull.
_Peter Bell the Third. Part vii. xi._
A lovely lady, garmented in light From her own beauty.
_The Witch of Atlas. Stanza 5._
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.
_Music, when soft Voices die._
I love tranquil solitude And such society As is quiet, wise, and good.
_Rarely, rarely comest Thou._
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing A tone Of some world far from ours, Where music and moonlight and feeling Are one.
_To Jane. The keen Stars were twinkling._
The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow.
_One Word is too often profaned._
You lie--under a mistake,[567-1] For this is the most civil sort of lie That can be given to a man's face. I now Say what I think.
_Translation of Calderon's Magico Prodigioso. Scene i._
How wonderful is Death! Death and his brother Sleep.
_Queen Mab. i._
Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.
_Queen Mab. iii._
Heaven's ebon vault Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world.
_Queen Mab. iv._
Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.[568-1]
_A Defence of Poetry._
FOOTNOTES:
[565-1] See Bacon, page 166.
[566-1] The pleasure of love is in loving. We are much happier in the passion we feel than in that we inspire.--ROCHEFOUCAULD: _Maxim 259._
[566-2] See Butler, page 216.
[567-1] See Swift, page 292.
[568-1] See Coleridge, page 504.
J. HOWARD PAYNE. 1792-1852.
'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there 's no place like home;[568-2] A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there, Which sought through the world is ne'er met with elsewhere.
An exile from home splendour dazzles in vain, Oh give me my lowly thatched cottage again; The birds singing gayly, that came at my call, Give me them, and that peace of mind dearer than all.
_Home, Sweet Home._ (From the opera of "Clari, the Maid of Milan.")
FOOTNOTES:
[568-2] Home is home, though it be never so homely.--CLARKE: _Paroemiologia, p. 101._ (1639.)
SEBA SMITH. 1792-1868.
The cold winds swept the mountain-height, And pathless was the dreary wild, And 'mid the cheerless hours of night A mother wandered with her child: As through the drifting snows she press'd, The babe was sleeping on her breast.
_The Snow Storm._
JOHN KEBLE. 1792-1866.
The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask.
_Morning._
Why should we faint and fear to live alone, Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die? Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own, Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh.
_The Christian Year. Twenty-fourth Sunday after Trinity._
'T is sweet, as year by year we lose Friends out of sight, in faith to muse How grows in Paradise our store.
_Burial of the Dead._
Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die.
_Evening._
FELICIA D. HEMANS. 1794-1835.
The stately homes of England,-- How beautiful they stand, Amid their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land!
_The Homes of England._
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed.
_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers._
What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine, The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? They sought a faith's pure shrine.
_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers._
Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what there they found,-- Freedom to worship God.
_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers._
Through the laburnum's dropping gold Rose the light shaft of Orient mould, And Europe's violets, faintly sweet, Purpled the mossbeds at its feet.
_The Palm-Tree._
They grew in beauty side by side, They filled one home with glee: Their graves are severed far and wide By mount and stream and sea.
_The Graves of a Household._
Alas for love, if thou wert all, And naught beyond, O Earth!
_The Graves of a Household._
The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
_Casabianca._
Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
_The Hour of Death._
Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone; The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.
_Tyrolese Evening Song._
In the busy haunts of men.
_Tale of the Secret Tribunal. Part i._
Calm on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit, rest thee now!
_Siege of Valencia. Scene ix._
Oh, call my brother back to me! I cannot play alone: The summer comes with flower and bee,-- Where is my brother gone?
_The Child's First Grief._
I have looked on the hills of the stormy North, And the larch has hung his tassels forth.
_The Voice of Spring._
I had a hat. It was not all a hat,-- Part of the brim was gone: Yet still I wore it on.
_Rhine Song of the German Soldiers after Victory._
EDWARD EVERETT. 1794-1865.
When I am dead, no pageant train Shall waste their sorrows at my bier, Nor worthless pomp of homage vain Stain it with hypocritic tear.
_Alaric the Visigoth._
You shall not pile, with servile toil, Your monuments upon my breast, Nor yet within the common soil Lay down the wreck of power to rest, Where man can boast that he has trod On him that was "the scourge of God."
_Alaric the Visigoth._
No gilded dome swells from the lowly roof to catch the morning or evening beam; but the love and gratitude of united America settle upon it in one eternal sunshine. From beneath that humble roof went forth the intrepid and unselfish warrior, the magistrate who knew no glory but his country's good; to that he returned, happiest when his work was done. There he lived in noble simplicity, there he died in glory and peace. While it stands, the latest generations of the grateful children of America will make this pilgrimage to it as to a shrine; and when it shall fall, if fall it must, the memory and the name of Washington shall shed an eternal glory on the spot.
_Oration on the Character of Washington._
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 1794-1878.
Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
_The Ages. xxxiii._
To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
_Thanatopsis._
Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
_Thanatopsis._
The hills, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun.
_Thanatopsis._
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
_Thanatopsis._
All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
_Thanatopsis._
So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves[572-1] To that mysterious realm where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one that wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
_Thanatopsis._
The groves were God's first temples.
_A Forest Hymn._
The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.
_March._
But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.
_Autumn Woods._
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
_The Death of the Flowers._
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
_The Death of the Flowers._
Loveliest of lovely things are they On earth that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
_A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson._
The victory of endurance born.
_The Battle-Field._
Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,-- The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.
_The Battle-Field._
FOOTNOTES:
[572-1] The edition of 1821 read,--
The innumerable caravan that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take.
JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE. 1795-1820.
When Freedom from her mountain-height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white With streakings of the morning light.
Flag of the free heart's hope and home! By angel hands to valour given! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?
_The American Flag._
JOHN KEATS. 1795-1821.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever; Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness.
_Endymion. Book i._
He ne'er is crown'd With immortality, who fears to follow Where airy voices lead.
_Endymion. Book ii._
To sorrow I bade good-morrow, And thought to leave her far away behind; But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly; She is so constant to me, and so kind.
_Endymion. Book iv._
So many, and so many, and such glee.
_Endymion. Book iv._
Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is--Love, forgive us!--cinders, ashes, dust.
_Lamia. Part ii._
There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings.
_Lamia. Part ii._
Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 3._
The silver snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 4._
Asleep in lap of legends old.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 15._
Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 16._
A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 18._
As though a rose should shut and be a bud again.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 27._
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 30._
He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute, In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy."
_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 33._
That large utterance of the early gods!
_Hyperion. Book i._
Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.
_Hyperion. Book i._
The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.
_Hyperion. Book ii._
Dance and Provencal song and sunburnt mirth! Oh for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene! With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth.
_Ode to a Nightingale._
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that ofttimes hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
_Ode to a Nightingale._
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on,-- Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
Thou, silent form, doth tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
_Ode on a Grecian Urn._
In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
_Stanzas._
Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings?
_Addressed to Haydon. Sonnet x._
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne, Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific, and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise, Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
_On first looking into Chapman's Homer._
E'en like the passage of an angel's tear That falls through the clear ether silently.
_To One who has been long in City pent._
The poetry of earth is never dead.
_On the Grasshopper and Cricket._
Here lies one whose name was writ in water.[577-1]
FOOTNOTES:
[577-1] See Chapman, page 37.
Among the many things he has requested of me to-night, this is the principal,--that on his gravestone shall be this inscription.--RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES: _Life, Letters, and Literary Remains of John Keats. Letter to Severn, vol. ii. p. 91._
THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. 1795-1854.
So his life has flowed From its mysterious urn a sacred stream, In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure Alone are mirrored; which, though shapes of ill May hover round its surface, glides in light, And takes no shadow from them.
_Ion. Act i. Sc. 1._
'T is a little thing To give a cup of water; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.
_Ion. Act i. Sc. 2._
THOMAS CARLYLE. 1795-1881.
Except by name, Jean Paul Friedrich Richter is little known out of Germany. The only thing connected with him, we think, that has reached this country is his saying,--imported by Madame de Stael, and thankfully pocketed by most newspaper critics,--"Providence has given to the French the empire of the land; to the English that of the sea; to the Germans that of--the air!"
_Richter. Edinburgh Review, 1827._
Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.
_State of German Literature. Edinburgh Review, 1827._
Clever men are good, but they are not the best.
_Goethe. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
We are firm believers in the maxim that for all right judgment of any man or thing it is useful, nay, essential, to see his good qualities before pronouncing on his bad.
_Goethe. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they?
_Burns. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
_Burns. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
His religion at best is an anxious wish,--like that of Rabelais, a great Perhaps.
_Burns. Edinburgh Review, 1828._
We have oftener than once endeavoured to attach some meaning to that aphorism, vulgarly imputed to Shaftesbury, which however we can find nowhere in his works, that "ridicule is the test of truth."[578-1]
_Voltaire. Foreign Review, 1829._
We must repeat the often repeated saying, that it is unworthy a religious man to view an irreligious one either with alarm or aversion, or with any other feeling than regret and hope and brotherly commiseration.
_Voltaire. Foreign Review, 1829._
There is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a biography, the life of a man; also it may be said, there is no life of a man, faithfully recorded, but is a heroic poem of its sort, rhymed or unrhymed.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
Silence is deep as Eternity, speech is shallow as Time.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
To the very last, he [Napoleon] had a kind of idea; that, namely, of _la carriere ouverte aux talents_,--the tools to him that can handle them.[579-1]
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
Blessed is the healthy nature; it is the coherent, sweetly co-operative, not incoherent, self-distracting, self-destructive one!
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He himself never knows it, much less do others.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
Literature is the Thought of thinking Souls.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
It can be said of him, when he departed he took a Man's life with him. No sounder piece of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth century of Time.
_Sir Walter Scott. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
The eye of the intellect "sees in all objects what it brought with it the means of seeing."
_Varnhagen Von Ense's Memoirs. London and Westminster Review, 1838._
Happy the people whose annals are blank in history-books.[579-2]
_Life of Frederick the Great. Book xvi. Chap. i._
As the Swiss inscription says: _Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen ist golden_,--"Speech is silvern, Silence is golden;" or, as I might rather express it, Speech is of Time, Silence is of Eternity.
_Sartor Resartus. Book iii. Chap. iii._
The greatest of faults, I should say, is to be conscious of none.[579-3]
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Prophet._
In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time: the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
The true University of these days is a Collection of Books.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
One life,--a little gleam of time between two Eternities.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
Adversity is sometimes hard upon a man; but for one man who can stand prosperity there are a hundred that will stand adversity.
_Heroes and Hero-Worship. The Hero as a Man of Letters._
FOOTNOTES:
[578-1] How comes it to pass, then, that we appear such cowards in reasoning, and are so afraid to stand the test of ridicule?--SHAFTESBURY: _Characteristics. A Letter concerning Enthusiasm, sect. 2._
Truth, 't is supposed, may bear all lights; and one of those principal lights or natural mediums by which things are to be viewed in order to a thorough recognition is ridicule itself.--SHAFTESBURY: _Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour, sect. 1._
'T was the saying of an ancient sage (Gorgias Leontinus, _apud_ Aristotle's "Rhetoric," lib. iii. c. 18), that humour was the only test of gravity, and gravity of humour. For a subject which would not bear raillery was suspicious; and a jest which would not bear a serious examination was certainly false wit.--_Ibid. sect. 5._
[579-1] Carlyle in his essay on Mirabeau, 1837, quotes this from a "New England book."
[579-2] MONTESQUIEU: _Aphorism._
[579-3] His only fault is that he has none.--PLINY THE YOUNGER: _Book ix. Letter xxvi._
THOMAS C. HALIBURTON. 1796-1865.
I want you to see Peel, Stanley, Graham, Sheil, Russell, Macaulay, Old Joe, and so on. They are all upper-crust here.[580-1]
_Sam Slick In England._[580-2] _Chap. xxiv._
Circumstances alter cases.
_The Old Judge. Chap. xv._
FOOTNOTES:
[580-1] Those families, you know, are our upper-crust,--not upper ten thousand.--COOPER: _The Ways of the Hour, chap. vi._ (1850.)
At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand of the city.--N. P. WILLIS: _Necessity for a Promenade Drive._
[580-2] "Sam Slick" first appeared in a weekly paper of Nova Scotia, 1835.
WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. 1797-1835.
I 've wandered east, I 've wandered west, Through many a weary way; But never, never can forget The love of life's young day.
_Jeannie Morrison._
And we, with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies.
_Jeannie Morrison._
THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY. 1797-1839.
I 'd be a butterfly born in a bower, Where roses and lilies and violets meet.
_I 'd be a Butterfly._
Oh no! we never mention her,-- Her name is never heard; My lips are now forbid to speak That once familiar word.
_Oh no! we never mention her._
We met,--'t was in a crowd.
_We met._
Gayly the troubadour Touched his guitar.
_Welcome me Home._
Why don't the men propose, Mamma? Why don't the men propose?
_Why don't the Men propose?_
She wore a wreath of roses The night that first we met.
_She wore a Wreath._
Friends depart, and memory takes them To her caverns, pure and deep.
_Teach me to forget._
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear, Long, long ago, long, long ago.
_Long, long ago._
The rose that all are praising Is not the rose for me.
_The Rose that all are praising._
Oh pilot, 't is a fearful night! There 's danger on the deep.
_The Pilot._
Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may'st be.
_The Pilot._
Absence makes the heart grow fonder:[581-1] Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!
_Isle of Beauty._
The mistletoe hung in the castle hall, The holly-branch shone on the old oak wall.
_The Mistletoe Bough._
Oh, I have roamed o'er many lands, And many friends I 've met; Not one fair scene or kindly smile Can this fond heart forget.
_Oh, steer my Bark to Erin's Isle._
FOOTNOTES:
[581-1] I find that absence still increases love.--CHARLES HOPKINS: _To C. C._
Distance sometimes endears friendship, and absence sweeteneth it.--HOWELL: _Familiar Letters, book i. sect. i. No. 6._
THOMAS DRUMMOND.[582-1] 1797-1840.
Property has its duties as well as its rights.[582-2]
_Letter to the Landlords of Tipperary._
FOOTNOTES:
[582-1] Captain Drummond was the inventor of the Drummond light.
[582-2] DISRAELI: _Sybil, book i. chap. xi._
McDONALD CLARKE. 1798-1842.
Whilst twilight's curtain spreading far, Was pinned with a single star.[582-3]
_Death in Disguise. Line 227._ (Boston edition, 1833.)
FOOTNOTES:
[582-3] Mrs. Child says:
"He thus describes the closing day":-- Now twilight lets her curtain down, And pins it with a star.
SAMUEL LOVER. 1797-1868.
A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping.
_The Angel's Whisper._
Reproof on her lips, but a smile in her eye.[582-4]
_Rory O'More._
For drames always go by _conthraries_, my dear.[582-5]
_Rory O'More._
"Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure, For there 's luck in odd numbers,"[583-1] says Rory O'More.
_Rory O'More._
There was a place in childhood that I remember well, And there a voice of sweetest tone bright fairy tales did tell.
_My Mother dear._
Sure the shovel and tongs To each other belongs.
_Widow Machree._
FOOTNOTES:
[582-4] See Scott, page 482.
[582-5] See Middleton, page 172.
[583-1] See Shakespeare, page 46.
THOMAS HOOD. 1798-1845.
There is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be,-- In the cold grave, under the deep, deep sea, Or in the wide desert where no life is found.
_Sonnet. Silence._
We watch'd her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro.
_The Death-Bed._
Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
_The Death-Bed._
I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky; It was a childish ignorance, But now 't is little joy To know I 'm farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy.
_I remember, I remember._
She stood breast-high amid the corn Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.
_Ruth._
Thus she stood amid the stooks, Praising God with sweetest looks.
_Ruth._
When he is forsaken, Wither'd and shaken, What can an old man do but die?
_Spring it is cheery._
And there is even a happiness That makes the heart afraid.
_Ode to Melancholy._
There 's not a string attuned to mirth But has its chord in melancholy.[584-1]
_Ode to Melancholy._
But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart.
_The Lady's Dream._
Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
_A Table of Errata._
Straight down the crooked lane, And all round the square.
_A Plain Direction._
For my part, getting up seems not so easy By half as _lying_.
_Morning Meditations._
A man that 's fond precociously of _stirring_ Must be a spoon.
_Morning Meditations._
Seem'd washing his hands with invisible soap In imperceptible water.
_Miss Kilmansegg. Her Christening._
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head!
_Her Dream._
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.
_Her Dream._
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold.
_Her Moral._
Spurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old To the very verge of the churchyard mould.
_Her Moral._
How widely its agencies vary,-- To save, to ruin, to curse, to bless,-- As even its minted coins express, Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess, And now of a Bloody Mary.
_Her Moral._
Another tumble! That 's his precious nose!
_Parental Ode to my Infant Son._
Boughs are daily rifled By the gusty thieves, And the book of Nature Getteth short of leaves.
_The Season._
With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags Plying her needle and thread,-- Stitch! Stitch! Stitch!
_The Song of the Shirt._
O men with sisters dear, O men with mothers and wives, It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures' lives![585-1]
_The Song of the Shirt._
Sewing at once a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt.
_The Song of the Shirt._
O God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap!
_The Song of the Shirt._
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.
_The Song of the Shirt._
My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread.
_The Song of the Shirt._
One more unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death.
_The Bridge of Sighs._
Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care; Fashioned so slenderly, Young, and so fair!
_The Bridge of Sighs._
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun!
_The Bridge of Sighs._
Even God's providence Seeming estrang'd.
_The Bridge of Sighs._
No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon, No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day, . . . . . . No road, no street, no t' other side the way, . . . . . . No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no buds.
_November._
No solemn sanctimonious face I pull, Nor think I 'm pious when I 'm only bilious; Nor study in my sanctum supercilious, To frame a Sabbath Bill or forge a Bull.
_Ode to Rae Wilson._
The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no salaam; And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam.
_All round my Hat._
FOOTNOTES:
[584-1] See Burton, page 185.
[585-1] See Scott, page 493.
GEORGE LINLEY. 1798-1865.
Ever of thee I 'm fondly dreaming, Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer.
_Ever of Thee._
Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream, And I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream.
_Thou art gone._
Tho' lost to sight, to mem'ry dear Thou ever wilt remain; One only hope my heart can cheer,-- The hope to meet again.
Oh fondly on the past I dwell, And oft recall those hours When, wand'ring down the shady dell, We gathered the wild-flowers.
Yes, life then seem'd one pure delight, Tho' now each spot looks drear; Yet tho' thy smile be lost to sight, To mem'ry thou art dear.
Oft in the tranquil hour of night, When stars illume the sky, I gaze upon each orb of light, And wish that thou wert by.
I think upon that happy time, That time so fondly lov'd, When last we heard the sweet bells chime, As thro' the fields we rov'd.
Yes, life then seem'd one pure delight, Tho' now each spot looks drear; Yet tho' thy smile be lost to sight, To mem'ry thou art dear.
_Song._[587-1]
FOOTNOTES:
[587-1] This song--written and composed by Linley for Mr. Augustus Braham, and sung by him--is given entire, as so much inquiry has been made for the source of "Though lost to Sight, to Memory dear." It is not known when the song was written,--probably about 1830.
Another song, entitled "Though lost to Sight, to Memory dear," was published in London in 1880, purporting to have been "written by Ruthven Jenkyns in 1703." It is said to have been published in the "Magazine for Mariners." No such magazine, however, ever existed, and the composer of the music acknowledged, in a private letter, to have copied the song from an American newspaper. There is no other authority for the origin of this song, and the reputed author, Ruthven Jenkyns, was living, under the name of C----, in California in 1882.
COLONEL BLACKER.
Put your trust in God, my boys, and keep your powder dry.[588-1]
_Oliver's Advice. 1834._
FOOTNOTES:
[588-1] There is a well-authenticated anecdote of Cromwell. On a certain occasion, when his troops were about crossing a river to attack the enemy, he concluded an address, couched in the usual fanatic terms in use among them, with these words: "Put your trust in God; but mind to keep your powder dry!"--HAYES: _Ballads of Ireland, vol. i. p. 191._
ROBERT POLLOK. 1799-1827.
Sorrows remember'd sweeten present joy.
_The Course of Time. Book i. Line 464._
He laid his hand upon "the Ocean's mane," And played familiar with his hoary locks.[588-2]
_The Course of Time. Book iv. Line 389._
He was a man Who stole the livery of the court of Heaven To serve the Devil in.
_The Course of Time. Book viii. Line 616._
With one hand he put A penny in the urn of poverty, And with the other took a shilling out.
_The Course of Time. Book viii. Line 632._
FOOTNOTES:
[588-2] See Byron, page 548.
RUFUS CHOATE. 1799-1859.
There was a state without king or nobles; there was a church without a bishop;[588-3] there was a people governed by grave magistrates which it had selected, and by equal laws which it had framed.
_Speech before the New England Society, Dec. 22, 1843._
We join ourselves to no party that does not carry the flag and keep step to the music of the Union.
_Letter to the Whig Convention, 1855._
Its constitution the glittering and sounding generalities[589-1] of natural right which make up the Declaration of Independence.
_Letter to the Maine Whig Committee, 1856._
FOOTNOTES:
[588-3] The Americans equally detest the pageantry of a king and the supercilious hypocrisy of a bishop.--JUNIUS: _Letter xxxv. Dec. 19, 1769._
It [Calvinism] established a religion without a prelate, a government without a king.--GEORGE BANCROFT: _History of the United States, vol. iii. chap. vi._
[589-1] Although Mr. Choate has usually been credited with the original utterance of the words "glittering generalities," the following quotation will show that he was anticipated therein by several years:--
We fear that the glittering generalities of the speaker have left an impression more delightful than permanent.--FRANKLIN J. DICKMAN: _Review of a Lecture by Rufus Choate, Providence Journal, Dec. 14, 1849._
THOMAS K. HERVEY. 1799-1859.
The tomb of him who would have made The world too glad and free.
_The Devil's Progress._
He stood beside a cottage lone And listened to a lute, One summer's eve, when the breeze was gone, And the nightingale was mute.
_The Devil's Progress._
A love that took an early root, And had an early doom.
_The Devil's Progress._
Like ships, that sailed for sunny isles, But never came to shore.
_The Devil's Progress._
A Hebrew knelt in the dying light, His eye was dim and cold, The hairs on his brow were silver-white, And his blood was thin and old.
_The Devil's Progress._
THOMAS B. MACAULAY. 1800-1859.
(_From his Essays._)
That is the best government which desires to make the people happy, and knows how to make them happy.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
Free trade, one of the greatest blessings which a government can confer on a people, is in almost every country unpopular.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
The history of nations, in the sense in which I use the word, is often best studied in works not professedly historical.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
Wherever literature consoles sorrow or assuages pain; wherever it brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and tears, and ache for the dark house and the long sleep,--there is exhibited in its noblest form the immortal influence of Athens.
_On Mitford's History of Greece. 1824._
We hold that the most wonderful and splendid proof of genius is a great poem produced in a civilized age.
_On Milton. 1825._
Nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and priests by the imposition of a mightier hand.
_On Milton. 1825._
Out of his surname they have coined an epithet for a knave, and out of his Christian name a synonym for the Devil.[590-1]
_On Machiavelli. 1825._
The English Bible,--a book which if everything else in our language should perish, would alone suffice to show the whole extent of its beauty and power.
_On John Dryden. 1828._
His imagination resembled the wings of an ostrich. It enabled him to run, though not to soar.
_On John Dryden. 1828._
A man possessed of splendid talents, which he often abused, and of a sound judgment, the admonitions of which he often neglected; a man who succeeded only in an inferior department of his art, but who in that department succeeded pre-eminently.
_On John Dryden. 1828._
He had a head which statuaries loved to copy, and a foot the deformity of which the beggars in the streets mimicked.
_On Moore's Life of Lord Byron. 1830._
We know no spectacle so ridiculous as the British public in one of its periodical fits of morality.
_On Moore's Life of Lord Byron. 1830._
From the poetry of Lord Byron they drew a system of ethics compounded of misanthropy and voluptuousness,--a system in which the two great commandments were to hate your neighbour and to love your neighbour's wife.
_On Moore's Life of Lord Byron. 1830._
That wonderful book, while it obtains admiration from the most fastidious critics, is loved by those who are too simple to admire it.
_On Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 1831._
The conformation of his mind was such that whatever was little seemed to him great, and whatever was great seemed to him little.
_On Horace Walpole. 1833._
What a singular destiny has been that of this remarkable man!--To be regarded in his own age as a classic, and in ours as a companion! To receive from his contemporaries that full homage which men of genius have in general received only from posterity; to be more intimately known to posterity than other men are known to their contemporaries!
_On Boswell's Life of Johnson_ (Croker's ed.). _1831._
Temple was a man of the world amongst men of letters, a man of letters amongst men of the world.[591-1]
_On Sir William Temple. 1838._
She [the Roman Catholic Church] may still exist in undiminished vigour when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's.[591-2]
_On Ranke's History of the Popes. 1840._
The chief-justice was rich, quiet, and infamous.
_On Warren Hastings. 1841._
In that temple of silence and reconciliation where the enmities of twenty generations lie buried, in the great Abbey which has during many ages afforded a quiet resting-place to those whose minds and bodies have been shattered by the contentions of the Great Hall.
_On Warren Hastings. 1841._
In order that he might rob a neighbour whom he had promised to defend, black men fought on the coast of Coromandel and red men scalped each other by the great lakes of North America.
_On Frederic the Great. 1842._
We hardly know an instance of the strength and weakness of human nature so striking and so grotesque as the character of this haughty, vigilant, resolute, sagacious blue-stocking, half Mithridates and half Trissotin, bearing up against a world in arms, with an ounce of poison in one pocket and a quire of bad verses in the other.
_On Frederic the Great. 1842._
I shall cheerfully bear the reproach of having descended below the dignity of history.[593-1]
_History of England. Vol. i. Chap. i._
There were gentlemen and there were seamen in the navy of Charles II. But the seamen were not gentlemen, and the gentlemen were not seamen.
_History of England. Vol. i. Chap. ii._
The Puritan hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators.[593-2]
_History of England. Vol. i. Chap. iii._
I have not the Chancellor's encyclopedic mind. He is indeed a kind of semi-Solomon. He _half_ knows everything, from the cedar to the hyssop.
_Letter to Macvey Napier, Dec. 17, 1830._
To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late; And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his gods?
_Lays of Ancient Rome. Horatius, xxvii._
How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old.
_Lays of Ancient Rome. Horatius, lxx._
These be the great Twin Brethren To whom the Dorians pray.
_The Battle of Lake Regillus._
The sweeter sound of woman's praise.
_Lines written in August, 1847._
Ye diners-out from whom we guard our spoons.[593-3]
_Political Georgics._
FOOTNOTES:
[590-1] See Butler, page 215.
[591-1] See Pope, page 331-332.
[591-2] The same image was employed by Macaulay in 1824 in the concluding paragraph of a review of Mitford's Greece, and he repeated it in his review of Mill's "Essay on Government" in 1829.
What cities, as great as this, have . . . promised themselves immortality! Posterity can hardly trace the situation of some. The sorrowful traveller wanders over the awful ruins of others. . . . Here stood their citadel, but now grown over with weeds; there their senate-house, but now the haunt of every noxious reptile; temples and theatres stood here, now only an undistinguished heap of ruins.--GOLDSMITH: _The Bee, No. iv._ (1759.) _A City Night Piece._
Who knows but that hereafter some traveller like myself will sit down upon the banks of the Seine, the Thames, or the Zuyder Zee, where now, in the tumult of enjoyment, the heart and the eyes are too slow to take in the multitude of sensations? Who knows but he will sit down solitary amid silent ruins, and weep a people inurned and their greatness changed into an empty name?--VOLNEY: _Ruins, chap. ii._
At last some curious traveller from Lima will visit England, and give a description of the ruins of St. Paul's, like the editions of Baalbec and Palmyra.--HORACE WALPOLE: _Letter to Mason, Nov. 24, 1774._
Where now is Britain? . . . . . . Even as the savage sits upon the stone That marks where stood her capitols, and hears The bittern booming in the weeds, he shrinks From the dismaying solitude.
HENRY KIRKE WHITE: _Time._
In the firm expectation that when London shall be a habitation of bitterns, when St. Paul and Westminster Abbey shall stand shapeless and nameless ruins in the midst of an unpeopled marsh, when the piers of Waterloo Bridge shall become the nuclei of islets of reeds and osiers, and cast the jagged shadows of their broken arches on the solitary stream, some Transatlantic commentator will be weighing in the scales of some new and now unimagined system of criticism the respective merits of the Bells and the Fudges and their historians.--SHELLEY: _Dedication to Peter Bell._
[593-1] See Bolingbroke, page 304.
[593-2] Even bear-baiting was esteemed heathenish and unchristian: the sport of it, not the inhumanity, gave offence.--HUME: _History of England, vol. i. chap. lxii._
[593-3] Macaulay, in a letter, June 29, 1831, says "I sent these lines to the 'Times' about three years ago."
J. A. WADE. 1800-1875.
Meet me by moonlight alone, And then I will tell you a tale Must be told by the moonlight alone, In the grove at the end of the vale!
_Meet me by Moonlight._
'T were vain to tell thee all I feel, Or say for thee I 'd die.
_'T were vain to tell._
SIR HENRY TAYLOR. 1800-18--.
The world knows nothing of its greatest men.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
An unreflected light did never yet Dazzle the vision feminine.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend. Eternity mourns that. 'T is an ill cure For life's worst ills, to have no time to feel them. Where sorrow 's held intrusive and turned out, There wisdom will not enter, nor true power, Nor aught that dignifies humanity.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
We figure to ourselves The thing we like; and then we build it up, As chance will have it, on the rock or sand,-- For thought is tired of wandering o'er the world, And homebound Fancy runs her bark ashore.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 5._
Such souls, Whose sudden visitations daze the world, Vanish like lightning, but they leave behind A voice that in the distance far away Wakens the slumbering ages.
_Philip Van Artevelde. Part i. Act i. Sc. 7._
WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 1801-1872.
There is a higher law than the Constitution.
_Speech, March 11, 1850._
It is an irrepressible conflict between opposing and enduring forces.
_Speech, Oct. 25, 1858._
W. M. PRAED. 1802-1839.
Twelve years ago I was a boy, A happy boy at Drury's.
_School and Schoolfellows._
Some lie beneath the churchyard stone, And some before the speaker.
_School and Schoolfellows._
I remember, I remember How my childhood fleeted by,-- The mirth of its December And the warmth of its July.
_I remember, I remember._
GEORGE P. MORRIS. 1802-1864.
Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough![595-1] In youth it sheltered me, And I 'll protect it now.
_Woodman, spare that Tree! 1830._
A song for our banner! The watchword recall Which gave the Republic her station: "United we stand, divided we fall!" It made and preserves us a nation![595-2] The union of lakes, the union of lands, The union of States none can sever, The union of hearts, the union of hands, And the flag of our Union forever!
_The Flag of our Union._
Near the lake where drooped the willow, Long time ago!
_Near the Lake._
FOOTNOTES:
[595-1] See Campbell, page 516.
[595-2] See Key, page 517.
ALBERT G. GREENE. 1802-1868.
Old Grimes is dead, that good old man We never shall see more; He used to wear a long black coat All buttoned down before.[596-1]
_Old Grimes._
FOOTNOTES:
[596-1] John Lee is dead, that good old man,-- We ne'er shall see him more; He used to wear an old drab coat All buttoned down before. To the memory of John Lee, who died May 21, 1823.
_An Inscription in Matherne Churchyard._
Old Abram Brown is dead and gone,-- You 'll never see him more; He used to wear a long brown coat That buttoned down before.
HALLIWELL: _Nursery Rhymes of England, p. 60._
LYDIA MARIA CHILD. 1802-1880.
England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile with bulrushes as to fetter the step of Freedom, more proud and firm in this youthful land than where she treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches herself among the magnificent mountains of Switzerland.
_Supposititious Speech of James Otis. The Rebels, Chap. iv._
DOUGLAS JERROLD. 1803-1857.
He is one of those wise philanthropists who in a time of famine would vote for nothing but a supply of toothpicks.
_Douglas Jerrold's Wit._
The surest way to hit a woman's heart is to take aim kneeling.
_Douglas Jerrold's Wit._
The nobleman of the garden.
_The Pineapple._
That fellow would vulgarize the day of judgment.
_A Comic Author._
The best thing I know between France and England is the sea.
_The Anglo-French Alliance._
The life of the husbandman,--a life fed by the bounty of earth and sweetened by the airs of heaven.
_The Husbandman's Life._
Some people are so fond of ill-luck that they run half-way to meet it.
_Meeting Troubles Half-way._
Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she laughs with a harvest.
_A Land of Plenty_ [_Australia_].
The ugliest of trades have their moments of pleasure. Now, if I were a grave-digger, or even a hangman, there are some people I could work for with a great deal of enjoyment.
_Ugly Trades._
A blessed companion is a book,--a book that fitly chosen is a life-long friend.
_Books._
There is something about a wedding-gown prettier than in any other gown in the world.
_A Wedding-gown._
He was so good he would pour rose-water on a toad.
_A Charitable Man._
As for the brandy, "nothing extenuate;" and the water, put nought in in malice.
_Shakespeare Grog._
Talk to him of Jacob's ladder, and he would ask the number of the steps.
_A Matter-of-fact Man._
RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 1803-1882.
Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone.
_Each and All._
I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore, With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
_Each and All._
Not from a vain or shallow thought His awful Jove young Phidias brought.
_The Problem._
Out from the heart of Nature rolled The burdens of the Bible old.
_The Problem._
The hand that rounded Peter's dome, And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, Wrought in a sad sincerity; Himself from God he could not free; He builded better than he knew: The conscious stone to beauty grew.
_The Problem._
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon As the best gem upon her zone.
_The Problem._
Earth laughs in flowers to see her boastful boys Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs; Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet Clear of the grave.
_Hamatreya._
Good bye, proud world! I 'm going home; Thou art not my friend, and I 'm not thine.[598-1]
_Good Bye._
For what are they all in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet?
_Good Bye._
If eyes were made for seeing, Then Beauty is its own excuse for being.
_The Rhodora._
Things are in the saddle, And ride mankind.[599-1]
_Ode, inscribed to W. H. Channing._
Olympian bards who sung Divine ideas below, Which always find us young And always keep us so.
_Ode to Beauty._
Heartily know, When half-gods go, The gods arrive.
_Give all to Love._
Love not the flower they pluck and know it not, And all their botany is Latin names.
_Blight._
The silent organ loudest chants The master's requiem.
_Dirge._
By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattl'd farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.[599-2]
_Hymn sung at the Completion of the Battle Monument._
What potent blood hath modest May!
_May-Day._
And striving to be man, the worm Mounts through all the spires of form.
_May-Day._
And every man, in love or pride, Of his fate is never wide.
_Nemesis._
None shall rule but the humble, And none but Toil shall have.
_Boston Hymn. 1863._
Oh, tenderly the haughty day Fills his blue urn with fire.
_Ode, Concord, July 4, 1857._
Go put your creed into your deed, Nor speak with double tongue.
_Ode, Concord, July 4, 1857._
So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man, When Duty whispers low, Thou must, The youth replies, I can!
_Voluntaries._
Whoever fights, whoever falls, Justice conquers evermore.
_Voluntaries._
Nor sequent centuries could hit Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
_Solution._
Born for success he seemed, With grace to win, with heart to hold, With shining gifts that took all eyes.
_In Memoriam._
Nor mourn the unalterable Days That Genius goes and Folly stays.
_In Memoriam._
Fear not, then, thou child infirm; There 's no god dare wrong a worm.
_Compensation._
He thought it happier to be dead, To die for Beauty, than live for bread.
_Beauty._
Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill? Pay every debt, as if God wrote the bill?
_Suum Cuique._
Too busy with the crowded hour to fear to live or die.
_Quatrains. Nature._
Though love repine, and reason chafe, There came a voice without reply,-- "'T is man's perdition to be safe When for the truth he ought to die."
_Sacrifice._
For what avail the plough or sail, Or land or life, if freedom fail?
_Boston._
If the single man plant himself indomitably on his instincts, and there abide, the huge world will come round to him.[601-1]
_Nature. Addresses and Lectures. The American Scholar._
There is no great and no small[601-2] To the Soul that maketh all; And where it cometh, all things are; And it cometh everywhere.
_Essays. First Series. Epigraph to History._
Time dissipates to shining ether the solid angularity of facts.
_Essays. First Series. History._
Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never the same.
_Essays. First Series. History._
A man is a bundle of relations, a knot of roots, whose flower and fruitage is the world.
_Essays. First Series. History._
The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
To be great is to be misunderstood.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
Discontent is the want of self-reliance: it is infirmity of will.
_Essays. First Series. Self-Reliance._
Everything in Nature contains all the powers of Nature. Everything is made of one hidden stuff.
_Essays. First Series. Compensation._
It is as impossible for a man to be cheated by any one but himself, as for a thing to be and not to be at the same time.
_Essays. First Series. Compensation._
Proverbs, like the sacred books of each nation, are the sanctuary of the intuitions.
_Essays. First Series. Compensation._
Every action is measured by the depth of the sentiment from which it proceeds.
_Essays. First Series. Spiritual Laws._
All mankind love a lover.
_Essays. First Series. Love._
A ruddy drop of manly blood The surging sea outweighs; The world uncertain comes and goes, The lover rooted stays.
_Essays. First Series. Epigraph to Friendship._
A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature.
_Essays. First Series. Friendship._
Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.
_Essays. First Series. Circles._
There is nothing settled in manners, but the laws of behaviour yield to the energy of the individual.
_Essays. Second Series. Manners._
And with Caesar to take in his hand the army, the empire, and Cleopatra, and say, "All these will I relinquish if you will show me the fountain of the Nile."
_New England Reformers._
He is great who is what he is from Nature, and who never reminds us of others.
_Representative Men. Uses of Great Men._
Is not marriage an open question, when it is alleged, from the beginning of the world, that such as are in the institution wish to get out, and such as are out wish to get in?[602-1]
_Representative Men. Montaigne._
Thought is the property of him who can entertain it, and of him who can adequately place it.
_Representative Men. Shakespeare._
The hearing ear is always found close to the speaking tongue.
_English Traits. Race._
I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in his shoes.
_English Traits. Manners._
A creative economy is the fuel of magnificence.
_English Traits. Aristocracy._
The manly part is to do with might and main what you can do.
_The Conduct of Life. Wealth._
The alleged power to charm down insanity, or ferocity in beasts, is a power behind the eye.
_The Conduct of Life. Behaviour._
Fine manners need the support of fine manners in others.
_The Conduct of Life. Behaviour._
Good is a good doctor, but Bad is sometimes a better.
_The Conduct of Life. Considerations by the Way._
God may forgive sins, he said, but awkwardness has no forgiveness in heaven or earth.
_The Conduct of Life. Society and Solitude._
Hitch your wagon to a star.
_The Conduct of Life. Civilization._
I rarely read any Latin, Greek, German, Italian, sometimes not a French book, in the original, which I can procure in a good version. I like to be beholden to the great metropolitan English speech, the sea which receives tributaries from every region under heaven. I should as soon think of swimming across Charles River when I wish to go to Boston, as of reading all my books in originals when I have them rendered for me in my mother tongue.
_The Conduct of Life. Books._
We do not count a man's years until he has nothing else to count.
_The Conduct of Life. Old Age._
Life is not so short but that there is always time enough for courtesy.
_Letters and Social Aims. Social Aims._
By necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote.
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
Next to the originator of a good sentence is the first quoter of it.[604-1]
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
When Shakespeare is charged with debts to his authors, Landor replies, "Yet he was more original than his originals. He breathed upon dead bodies and brought them into life."
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
In fact, it is as difficult to appropriate the thoughts of others as it is to invent.
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
The passages of Shakespeare that we most prize were never quoted until within this century.
_Letters and Social Aims. Quotation and Originality._
Great men are they who see that spiritual is stronger than any material force; that thoughts rule the world.
_Progress of Culture. Phi Beta Kappa Address, July 18, 1867._
I do not find that the age or country makes the least difference; no, nor the language the actors spoke, nor the religion which they professed, whether Arab in the desert or Frenchman in the Academy. I see that sensible men and conscientious men all over the world were of one religion.[604-2]
_Lectures and Biographical Sketches. The Preacher._
FOOTNOTES:
[598-1] See Byron, page 544.
[599-1] I never could believe that Providence had sent a few men into the world ready booted and spurred to ride, and millions ready saddled and bridled to be ridden.--RUMBOLD (when on the scaffold).
[599-2] No war or battle sound Was heard the world around.
MILTON: _Hymn of Christ's Nativity, line 31._
[601-1] Everything comes if a man will only wait.--DISRAELI: _Tancred, book iv. chap. viii._
[601-2] See Pope, page 316.
[602-1] See Davies, page 176.
[604-1] There is not less wit nor less invention in applying rightly a thought one finds in a book, than in being the first author of that thought. Cardinal du Perron has been heard to say that the happy application of a verse of Virgil has deserved a talent.--BAYLE: _vol. ii. p. 779._
Though old the thought and oft exprest, 'T is his at last who says it best.
LOWELL: _For an Autograph._
[604-2] See Johnson, page 370.
RICHARD HENGEST HORNE. 1803- ----.
'T is always morning somewhere in the world.[604-3]
_Orion. Book iii. Canto ii._ (1843.)
FOOTNOTES:
[604-3] 'T is always morning somewhere.--LONGFELLOW: _Wayside Inn. Birds of Killingworth, stanza 16._
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 1804-1879.
My country is the world; my countrymen are mankind.[605-1]
_Prospectus of the Public Liberator, 1830._
I am in earnest. I will not equivocate; I will not excuse; I will not retreat a single inch; and I will be heard!
_Salutatory of the Liberator, Jan. 1, 1831._
Our country is the world; our countrymen are mankind.
_Motto of the Liberator, Vol. i. No. 1, 1831._
I will be as harsh as truth and as uncompromising as justice.
_The Liberator, Vol. i. No. 1, 1831._
Our country is the world; our countrymen are all mankind.
_Prospectus of the Liberator, Dec. 15, 1837._
The compact which exists between the North and the South is a covenant with death and an agreement with hell.[605-2]
_Resolution adopted by the Antislavery Society, Jan. 27, 1843._
FOOTNOTES:
[605-1] Socrates said he was not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world.--PLUTARCH: _On Banishment._
Diogenes, when asked from what country he came, replied, "I am a citizen of the world."--DIOGENES LAERTIUS.
_My country is the world_, and my religion is to do good.--THOMAS PAINE: _Rights of Man, chap. v._
[605-2] We have made a covenant with death, and with hell are we at agreement.--_Isaiah xxviii. 15._
MARY HOWITT. 1804-1888.
Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we; Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea.
_Old England is our Home._
"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly; "'T is the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy."
_The Spider and the Fly._
SARAH FLOWER ADAMS. 1805-1848.
Nearer, my God, to Thee! Nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me, Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee! Nearer to Thee!
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON. 1805-1873.
Curse away! And let me tell thee, Beausant, a wise proverb The Arabs have,--"Curses are like young chickens, And still come home to roost."
_The Lady of Lyons. Act v. Sc. 2._
Beneath the rule of men entirely great, The pen is mightier than the sword.[606-1]
_Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2._
Take away the sword; States can be saved without it.
_Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2._
In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves For a bright manhood, there is no such word As "fail."
_Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2._
The brilliant chief, irregularly great, Frank, haughty, rash,--the Rupert of debate![606-2]
_The New Timon._ (_1846._) _Part i._
_Alone!_--that worn-out word, So idly spoken, and so coldly heard; Yet all that poets sing and grief hath known Of hopes laid waste, knells in that word ALONE!
_The New Timon._ (_1846._) _Part ii._
When stars are in the quiet skies, Then most I pine for thee; Bend on me then thy tender eyes, As stars look on the sea.
_When Stars are in the quiet Skies._
Buy my flowers,--oh buy, I pray! The blind girl comes from afar.
_Buy my Flowers._
The man who smokes, thinks like a sage and acts like a Samaritan.
_Night and Morning. Chap. vi._
FOOTNOTES:
[606-1] See Burton, page 189.
[606-2] In April, 1844, Mr. Disraeli thus alluded to Lord Stanley: "The noble lord is the Rupert of debate."
BENJAMIN DISRAELI (EARL BEACONSFIELD). 1805-1881.
Free trade is not a principle, it is an expedient.[607-1]
_On Import Duties, April 25, 1843._
The noble lord[607-2] is the Rupert of debate.[607-3]
_Speech, April, 1844._
A conservative government is an organized hypocrisy.
_Speech, March 17, 1845._
A precedent embalms a principle.
_Speech, Feb. 22, 1848._
It is much easier to be critical than to be correct.
_Speech, Jan. 24, 1860._
The characteristic of the present age is craving credulity.
_Speech, Nov. 25, 1864._
Assassination has never changed the history of the world.
_Speech, May, 1865._
I see before me the statue of a celebrated minister,[607-4] who said that confidence was a plant of slow growth. But I believe, however gradual may be the growth of confidence, that of credit requires still more time to arrive at maturity.
_Speech, Nov. 9, 1867._
The secret of success is constancy to purpose.
_Speech, June 24, 1870._
The author who speaks about his own books is almost as bad as a mother who talks about her own children.
_Speech, Nov. 19, 1870._
Apologies only account for that which they do not alter.
_Speech, July 28, 1871._
Increased means and increased leisure are the two civilizers of man.
_Speech, April 3, 1872._
I repeat . . . that all power is a trust; that we are accountable for its exercise; that from the people and for the people all springs, and all must exist.[608-1]
_Vivian Grey. Book vi. Chap. vii._
Man is not the creature of circumstances. Circumstances are the creatures of men.
_Vivian Grey. Book vi. Chap. vii._
The disappointment of manhood succeeds to the delusion of youth: let us hope that the heritage of old age is not despair.
_Vivian Grey. Book viii. Chap. iv._
The first favourite was never heard of, the second favourite was never seen after the distance post, all the ten-to-oners were in the rear, and a dark horse[608-2] which had never been thought of, and which the careless St. James had never even observed in the list, rushed past the grand stand in sweeping triumph.
_The Young Duke. Book i. Chap. v._
Patience is a necessary ingredient of genius.
_Contarini Fleming. Part iv. Chap. v._
Youth is a blunder; manhood a struggle; old age a regret.
_Coningsby. Book iii. Chap. i._
But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day, and the race a life.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. ii._
Only think of Cockie Graves having gone and done it!
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. ii._
The Duke of Wellington brought to the post of first minister immortal fame,--a quality of success which would almost seem to include all others.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. iii._
The Egremonts had never said anything that was remembered, or done anything that could be recalled.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. iii._
If the history of England be ever written by one who has the knowledge and the courage,--and both qualities are equally requisite for the undertaking,--the world will be more astonished than when reading the Roman annals by Niebuhr.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. iii._
That earliest shock in one's life which occurs to all of us; which first makes us think.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. v._
To be conscious that you are ignorant is a great step to knowledge.
_Sybil. Book i. Chap. v._
Principle is ever my motto, not expediency.
_Sybil. Book ii. Chap. ii._
Property has its duties as well as its rights.[609-1]
_Sybil. Book ii. Chap. xi._
Mr. Kremlin was distinguished for ignorance; for he had only one idea, and that was wrong.[609-2]
_Sybil. Book iv. Chap. v._
Everything comes if a man will only wait.[609-3]
_Tancred. Book iv. Chap. viii._ (_1847._)
That when a man fell into his anecdotage, it was a sign for him to retire.
_Lothair. Chap. xxviii._
You know who critics are?--the men who have failed in literature and art.[609-4]
_Lothair. Chap. xxxv._
His Christianity was muscular.
_Endymion. Chap. xiv._
The Athanasian Creed is the most splendid ecclesiastical lyric ever poured forth by the genius of man.
_Endymion. Chap. lii._
The world is a wheel, and it will all come round right.
_Endymion. Chap. lxx._
"As for that," said Waldenshare, "sensible men are all of the same religion." "Pray, what is that?" inquired the Prince. "Sensible men never tell."[610-1]
_Endymion. Chap. lxxxi._
The sweet simplicity of the three per cents.[610-2]
_Endymion. Chap. xcvi._
FOOTNOTES:
[607-1] It is a condition which confronts us, not a theory.--GROVER CLEVELAND: _Annual Message, 1887. Reference to the Tariff._
[607-2] Lord Stanley.
[607-3] See Bulwer, page 606.
[607-4] William Pitt, Earl of Chatham.
[608-1] See Webster, page 532.
[608-2] A common political phrase in the United States.
[609-1] See Drummond, page 582.
[609-2] See Johnson, page 371.
[609-3] See Emerson, page 601.
All things come round to him who will but wait.--LONGFELLOW: _Tales of a Wayside Inn. The Student's Tale._ (1862.)
[609-4] See Coleridge, page 505.
[610-1] See Johnson, page 370.
An anecdote is related of Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper (1621-1683), who, in speaking of religion, said, "People differ in their discourse and profession about these matters, but men of sense are really but of one religion." To the inquiry of "What religion?" the Earl said, "Men of sense never tell it."--BURNET: _History of my own Times, vol. i. p. 175, note_ (edition 1833).
[610-2] See Stowell, page 437.
ROBERT MONTGOMERY. 1807-1855.
And thou, vast ocean! on whose awful face Time's iron feet can print no ruin-trace.[610-3]
_The Omnipresence of the Deity. Part i._
The soul aspiring pants its source to mount, As streams meander level with their fount.[610-4]
_The Omnipresence of the Deity. Part i._
The solitary monk who shook the world From pagan slumber, when the gospel trump Thunder'd its challenge from his dauntless lips In peals of truth.
_Luther. Man's Need and God's Supply._
And not from Nature up to Nature's God,[610-5] But down from Nature's God look Nature through.
_Luther. A Landscape of Domestic Life._
FOOTNOTES:
[610-3] See Byron, page 547.
[610-4] We take this to be, on the whole, the worst similitude in the world. In the first place, no stream meanders or can possibly meander level with the fount. In the next place, if streams did meander level with their founts, no two motions can be less like each other than that of meandering level and that of mounting upwards.--MACAULAY: _Review of Montgomery's Poems_ (_Eleventh Edition_). _Edinburgh Review, April, 1830._
These lines were omitted in the subsequent edition of the poem.
[610-5] See Bolingbroke, page 304.
CHARLES JEFFERYS. 1807-1865.
Come o'er the moonlit sea, The waves are brightly glowing.
_The Moonlit Sea._
The morn was fair, the skies were clear, No breath came o'er the sea.
_The Rose of Allandale._
Meek and lowly, pure and holy, Chief among the "blessed three."
_Charity._
Come, wander with me, for the moonbeams are bright On river and forest, o'er mountain and lea.
_Come, wander with me._
A word in season spoken May calm the troubled breast.
_A Word in Season._
The bud is on the bough again, The leaf is on the tree.
_The Meeting of Spring and Summer._
I have heard the mavis singing Its love-song to the morn; I 've seen the dew-drop clinging To the rose just newly born.
_Mary of Argyle._
We have lived and loved together Through many changing years; We have shared each other's gladness, And wept each other's tears.
_We have lived and loved together._
LADY DUFFERIN. 1807-1867.
I 'm sitting on the stile, Mary, Where we sat side by side.
_Lament of the Irish Emigrant._
I 'm very lonely now, Mary, For the poor make no new friends; But oh they love the better still The few our Father sends!
_Lament of the Irish Emigrant._
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 1807-1882.
(_From the edition of 1886._)
Look, then, into thine heart, and write![612-1]
_Voices of the Night. Prelude._
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream!" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.[612-2]
_A Psalm of Life._
Life is real! life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
_A Psalm of Life._
Art is long, and time is fleeting,[612-3] And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave.[612-4]
_A Psalm of Life._
Trust no future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, act in the living present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!
_A Psalm of Life._
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.
_A Psalm of Life._
Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate;[612-5] Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait.
_A Psalm of Life._
There is a reaper whose name is Death,[613-1] And with his sickle keen He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between.
_The Reaper and the Flowers._
The star of the unconquered will.
_The Light of Stars._
Oh, fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know erelong,-- Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.
_The Light of Stars._
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
_Flowers._
The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.
_Midnight Mass._
No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
_Sunrise on the Hills._
No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own.
_Endymion._
For Time will teach thee soon the truth, There are no birds in last year's nest![613-2]
_It is not always May._
Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
_The Rainy Day._
The prayer of Ajax was for light.[614-1]
_The Goblet of Life._
O suffering, sad humanity! O ye afflicted ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery, Longing, yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried!
_The Goblet of Life._
Standing with reluctant feet Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet!
_Maidenhood._
O thou child of many prayers! Life hath quicksands; life hath snares!
_Maidenhood._
She floats upon the river of his thoughts.[614-2]
_The Spanish Student. Act ii. Sc. 3._
A banner with the strange device.
_Excelsior._
This is the place. Stand still, my steed,-- Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy past The forms that once have been.
_A Gleam of Sunshine._
The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.
_The Day is done._
A feeling of sadness and longing That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
_The Day is done._
And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
_The Day is done._
Sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O Union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
_The Building of the Ship._
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,-- Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee,--are all with thee!
_The Building of the Ship._
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
_The Fire of Drift-wood._
There is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there; There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair.
_Resignation._
The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead.
_Resignation._
But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
_Resignation._
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
_Resignation._
There is no death! What seems so is transition; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
_Resignation._
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives whom we call dead.
_Resignation._
In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the gods see everywhere.
_The Builders._
This is the forest primeval.
_Evangeline. Part i._
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
_Evangeline. Part i. 1._
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.
_Evangeline. Part i. 3._
And as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.
_Evangeline. Part ii. 5._
God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting.[616-1]
_The Courtship of Miles Standish. iv._
Into a world unknown,--the corner-stone of a nation![616-2]
_The Courtship of Miles Standish. iv._
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame.[616-3]
_The Ladder of Saint Augustine._
The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they while their companions slept Were toiling upward in the night.
_The Ladder of Saint Augustine._
The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.
_The Herons of Elmwood._
He has singed the beard of the king of Spain.[616-4]
_The Dutch Picture._
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books.
_Morituri Salutamus._
With useless endeavour Forever, forever, Is Sisyphus rolling His stone up the mountain!
_The Masque of Pandora. Chorus of the Eumenides._
All things come round to him who will but wait.[617-1]
_Tales of a Wayside Inn. The Student's Tale._
Time has laid his hand Upon my heart gently, not smiting it, But as a harper lays his open palm Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.
_The Golden Legend. iv._
Hospitality sitting with Gladness.
_Translation from Frithiof's Saga._
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
_Motto, Hyperion. Book i._[617-2]
Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love and joy and sorrow learn; Something with passion clasp, or perish And in itself to ashes burn.
_Hyperion. Book ii._
Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of passion with from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.
_Hyperion. Book iv. Chap. viii._
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.[618-1]
_Kavanagh._
There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery.[618-2]
_Inferno. Canto v. Line 121._
FOOTNOTES:
[612-1] See Philip Sidney, page 34.
[612-2] Things are not always what they seem.--PHAEDRUS: _Fables,