 |
The Prelude. Book iii.
Another morn Risen on mid-noon.[476-1]
The Prelude. Book vi.
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven!
The Prelude. Book xi.
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
The Prelude. Book xi.
There is One great society alone on earth: The noble living and the noble dead.
The Prelude. Book xi.
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,—miserable train!— Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
Character of the Happy Warrior.
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves Of their bad influence, and their good receives.
Character of the Happy Warrior.
But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for humankind, Is happy as a lover.
Character of the Happy Warrior.
And through the heat of conflict keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw.
Character of the Happy Warrior.
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay, Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
Character of the Happy Warrior.
Like,—but oh how different!
Yes, it was the Mountain Echo.
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours.
Miscellaneous Sonnets. Part i. xxxiii.
Great God! I 'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Miscellaneous Sonnets. Part i. xxxiii.
Maidens withering on the stalk.[477-1]
Personal Talk. Stanza 1.
Sweetest melodies Are those that are by distance made more sweet.[477-2]
Personal Talk. Stanza 2.
Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good. Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.
Personal Talk. Stanza 3.
The gentle Lady married to the Moor, And heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb.
Personal Talk. Stanza 3.
Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares!— The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays.
Personal Talk. Stanza 4.
A power is passing from the earth.
Lines on the expected Dissolution of Mr. Fox.
The rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the rose.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 2.
The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 2.
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 5.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The soul that rises with us, our life's star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar. Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory, do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 5.
At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 5.
The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9.
Those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings, Blank misgivings of a creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts before which our mortal nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9.
Truths that wake, To perish never.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9.
Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 9.
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 10.
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 10.
The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 11.
To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Ode. Intimations of Immortality. Stanza 11.
Two voices are there: one is of the sea, One of the mountains,—each a mighty voice.
Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland.
Earth helped him with the cry of blood.[478-1]
Song at the Feast of Broughton Castle.
The silence that is in the starry sky.
Song at the Feast of Broughton Castle.
The monumental pomp of age Was with this goodly personage; A stature undepressed in size, Unbent, which rather seemed to rise In open victory o'er the weight Of seventy years, to loftier height.
The White Doe of Rylstone. Canto iii.
"What is good for a bootless bene?" With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, Whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail?
Force of Prayer.
A few strong instincts, and a few plain rules.
Alas! what boots the long laborious Quest?
Of blessed consolations in distress.
Preface to the Excursion. (Edition, 1814.)
The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
The Excursion. Book i.
The imperfect offices of prayer and praise.
The Excursion. Book i.
That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
The Excursion. Book i.
The good die first,[479-1] And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket.
The Excursion. Book i.
This dull product of a scoffer's pen.
The Excursion. Book ii.
With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars.
The Excursion. Book ii.
Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop Than when we soar.
The Excursion. Book iii.
Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
The Excursion. Book iii.
Monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial.
The Excursion. Book iii.
The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way![480-1]
The Excursion. Book iii.
Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.
The Excursion. Book iii.
And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
The Excursion. Book iv.
There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
The Excursion. Book iv.
Recognizes ever and anon The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul.
The Excursion. Book iv.
Pan himself, The simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god!
The Excursion. Book iv.
I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell, To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy, for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with his native sea.[480-2]
The Excursion. Book iv.
So build we up the being that we are.
The Excursion. Book iv.
One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.
The Excursion. Book iv.
Spires whose "silent finger points to heaven."[481-1]
The Excursion. Book vi.
Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,—render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
The Excursion. Book vi.
And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory images and precious thoughts That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.
The Excursion. Book vii.
Wisdom married to immortal verse.[481-2]
The Excursion. Book vii.
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident to-morrows.
The Excursion. Book vii.
The primal duties shine aloft, like stars; The charities that soothe and heal and bless Are scattered at the feet of man like flowers.
The Excursion. Book ix.
By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same![481-3]
The Excursion. Book ix.
The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul.
Laodamia.
Mightier far Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is Love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favorite seat be feeble woman's breast.
Laodamia.
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
Laodamia.
He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,— The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
Laodamia.
Of all that is most beauteous, imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams.
Laodamia.
Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.
Laodamia.
But shapes that come not at an earthly call Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
Dion.
But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
Yarrow Visited.
'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.
Weak is the Will of Man.
We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument In working out a pure intent.
Ode. Imagination before Content.
Sad fancies do we then affect, In luxury of disrespect To our own prodigal excess Of too familiar happiness.
Ode to Lycoris.
That kill the bloom before its time, And blanch, without the owner's crime, The most resplendent hair.
Lament of Mary Queen of Scots.
The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled; And Shakespeare at his side,—a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world!
The Italian Itinerant.
Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.
Sky-Prospect from the Plain of France.
Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.
Desultory Stanza.
Babylon, Learned and wise, hath perished utterly, Nor leaves her speech one word to aid the sigh That would lament her.
Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part i. xxv. Missions and Travels.
As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accursed An emblem yields to friends and enemies How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.[483-1]
Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part ii. xvii. To Wickliffe.
The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.[484-1]
Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. v. Walton's Book of Lives.
Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. v. Walton's Book of Lives.
But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant.
Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. vii. Persecution of the Scottish Covenanters.
Where music dwells Lingering and wandering on as loth to die, Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof That they were born for immortality.
Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. xliii. Inside of King's Chapel, Cambridge.
Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast False fires, that others may be lost.
To the Lady Fleming.
But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.
Elegiac Stanzas. Addressed to Sir G. H. B.
To the solid ground Of Nature trusts the mind that builds for aye.
A Volant Tribe of Bards on Earth.
Soft is the music that would charm forever; The flower of sweetest smell is shy and lowly.
Not Love, not War.
True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
To ——. Let other Bards of Angels sing.
Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
To a Skylark.
A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
Ere with Cold Beads of Midnight Dew.
Scorn not the sonnet. Critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honours; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.[485-1]
Scorn not the Sonnet.
And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strains,—alas! too few.
Scorn not the Sonnet.
But he is risen, a later star of dawn.
A Morning Exercise.
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
A Morning Exercise.
When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.
The Triad.
Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!
The Triad.
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
On the Power of Sound. xii.
The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
Presentiments.
Nature's old felicities.
The Trosachs.
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.
Poems composed during a Tour in the Summer of 1833. xxxvii.
Small service is true service while it lasts. Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one: The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.
To a Child. Written in her Album.
Since every mortal power of Coleridge Was frozen at its marvellous source, The rapt one, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg.
How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!
Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg.
Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?
Memorials of a Tour in Italy. iv.
How does the meadow-flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free Down to its root, and in that freedom bold.
A Poet! He hath put his Heart to School.
Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.
Yes, Thou art Fair.
FOOTNOTES:
[465-1] Coleridge said to Wordsworth ("Memoirs" by his nephew, vol. ii. p. 74), "Since Milton, I know of no poet with so many felicities and unforgettable lines and stanzas as you."
[465-2] The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
The Excursion, book iii.
[468-1] The original edition (London, 1819, 8vo) had the following as the fourth stanza from the end of Part i., which was omitted in all subsequent editions:—
Is it a party in a parlour? Crammed just as they on earth were crammed,— Some sipping punch, some sipping tea, But, as you by their faces see, All silent and all damned.
[469-1] See Milton, page 241.
[471-1] See Gray, page 382.
[474-1] It was on this occasion [the failure in energy of Lord Mar at the battle of Sheriffmuir] that Gordon of Glenbucket made the celebrated exclamation, "Oh for an hour of Dundee!"—MAHON: History of England, vol. i. p. 184.
Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo, The octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!
BYRON: Childe Harold, canto iv. stanza 12.
[475-1] See Milton, page 239.
[476-1] See Milton, page 235.
[477-1] See Shakespeare, page 57.
[477-2] See Collins, page 390.
[478-1] This line is from Sir John Beaumont's "Battle of Bosworth Field."
[479-1] Heaven gives its favourites—early death.—BYRON: Childe Harold, canto iv. stanza 102. Also Don Juan, canto iv. stanza 12.
Quem Di diligunt Adolescens moritur (He whom the gods favor dies in youth).
PLAUTUS: Bacchides, act iv. sc. 7.
[480-1] See page 465.
[480-2] But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue; . . . . . 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.
LANDOR: Gebir, book v.
[481-1] 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 stars.—COLERIDGE: The Friend, No. 14.
[481-2] See Milton, page 249.
[481-3] Another and the same.—DARWIN: The Botanic Garden.
[483-1] In obedience to the order of the Council of Constance (1415), the remains of Wickliffe were exhumed and burned to ashes, and these cast into the Swift, a neighbouring brook running hard by; and "thus this brook hath conveyed his ashes into Avon, Avon into Severn, Severn into the narrow seas, they into the main ocean. And thus the ashes of Wickliffe are the emblem of his doctrine, which now is dispersed all the world over."—FULLER: Church history, sect. ii. book iv. paragraph 53.
What Heraclitus would not laugh, or what Democritus would not weep? . . . For though they digged up his body, burned his bones, and drowned his ashes, yet the word of God and truth of his doctrine, with the fruit and success thereof, they could not burn.—FOX: Book of Martyrs, vol. i. p. 606 (edition, 1641).
"Some prophet of that day said,—
"'The Avon to the Severn runs, The Severn to the sea; And Wickliffe's dust shall spread abroad Wide as the waters be.'"
DANIEL WEBSTER: Address before the Sons of New Hampshire, 1849.
These lines are similarly quoted by the Rev. John Cumming in the "Voices of the Dead."
[484-1] The pen wherewith thou dost so heavenly sing Made of a quill from an angel's wing.
HENRY CONSTABLE: Sonnet.
Whose noble praise Deserves a quill pluckt from an angel's wing.
DOROTHY BERRY: Sonnet.
[485-1] With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart.
BROWNING: House.
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 1771-1832.
Such is the custom of Branksome Hall.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto i. Stanza 7.
If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 1.
O fading honours of the dead! O high ambition, lowly laid!
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 10.
I was not always a man of woe.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 12.
I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 't was said to me.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto ii. Stanza 22.
In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iii. Stanza 1.
Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iii. Stanza 24.
Along thy wild and willow'd shore.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iv. Stanza 1.
Ne'er Was flattery lost on poet's ear; A simple race! they waste their toil For the vain tribute of a smile.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto iv. Stanza 35.
Call it not vain: they do not err Who say that when the poet dies Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto v. Stanza 1.
True love 's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven: It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes soon as granted fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart and mind to mind In body and in soul can bind.
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto v. Stanza 13.
Breathes there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd[488-1] As home his footsteps he hath turn'd From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well! For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,— Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.[488-2]
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto vi. Stanza 1.
O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood; Land of the mountain and the flood!
Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto vi. Stanza 2.
Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
Marmion. Introduction to Canto i.
Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and speech is truth.
Marmion. Introduction to Canto ii.
When, musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone.
Marmion. Introduction to Canto ii.
'T is an old tale and often told; But did my fate and wish agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betray'd for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me.
Marmion. Canto ii. Stanza 27.
When Prussia hurried to the field, And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield.[489-1]
Marmion. Introduction to Canto iii.
In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying.
Marmion. Canto iii. Stanza 11.
Where 's the coward that would not dare To fight for such a land?
Marmion. Canto iv. Stanza 30.
Lightly from fair to fair he flew, And loved to plead, lament, and sue; Suit lightly won, and short-lived pain, For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.
Marmion. Canto v. Stanza 9.
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.[489-2]
Marmion. Canto v. Stanza 12.
But woe awaits a country when She sees the tears of bearded men.
Marmion. Canto v. Stanza 16.
And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall?
Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 14.
Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!
Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 17.
O woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou![490-1]
Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 30.
"Charge, Chester, charge! on, Stanley, on!" Were the last words of Marmion.
Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 32.
Oh for a blast of that dread horn[490-2] On Fontarabian echoes borne!
Marmion. Canto vi. Stanza 33.
To all, to each, a fair good-night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
L' Envoy. To the Reader.
In listening mood she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand.
Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 17.
And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace Of finer form or lovelier face.
Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 18.
A foot more light, a step more true, Ne'er from the heath-flower dash'd the dew.
Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 18.
On his bold visage middle age Had slightly press'd its signet sage, Yet had not quench'd the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth: Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to dare.
Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 21.
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil nor night of waking.
Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 31.
Hail to the chief who in triumph advances!
Lady of the Lake. Canto ii. Stanza 19.
Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
Lady of the Lake. Canto ii. Stanza 22.
Time rolls his ceaseless course.
Lady of the Lake. Canto iii. Stanza 1.
Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and forever!
Lady of the Lake. Canto iii. Stanza 16.
The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears. The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
Lady of the Lake. Canto iv. Stanza 1.
Art thou a friend to Roderick?
Lady of the Lake. Canto iv. Stanza 30.
Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I.
Lady of the Lake. Canto v. Stanza 10.
And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.
Lady of the Lake. Canto v. Stanza 10.
Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain! Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. Thou many-headed monster[492-1] thing, Oh who would wish to be thy king!
Lady of the Lake. Canto v. Stanza 30.
Where, where was Roderick then? One blast upon his bugle horn Were worth a thousand men.
Lady of the Lake. Canto vi. Stanza 18.
In man's most dark extremity Oft succour dawns from Heaven.
Lord of the Isles. Canto i. Stanza 20.
Spangling the wave with lights as vain As pleasures in the vale of pain, That dazzle as they fade.
Lord of the Isles. Canto i. Stanza 23.
Oh, many a shaft at random sent Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word at random spoken May soothe, or wound, a heart that 's broken!
Lord of the Isles. Canto v. Stanza 18.
Where lives the man that has not tried How mirth can into folly glide, And folly into sin!
Bridal of Triermain. Canto i. Stanza 21.
Still are the thoughts to memory dear.
Rokeby. Canto i. Stanza 32.
A mother's pride, a father's joy.
Rokeby. Canto iii. Stanza 15.
Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer's queen.
Rokeby. Canto iii. Stanza 16.
Thus aged men, full loth and slow, The vanities of life forego, And count their youthful follies o'er, Till Memory lends her light no more.
Rokeby. Canto v. Stanza 1.
No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay.
Rokeby. Canto vi. Stanza 21.
Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended; Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded.
Pibroch of Donald Dhu.
A lawyer without history or literature is a mechanic, a mere working mason; if he possesses some knowledge of these, he may venture to call himself an architect.
Guy Mannering. Chap. xxxvii.
Bluid is thicker than water.[493-1]
Guy Mannering. Chap. xxxviii.
It 's no fish ye 're buying, it 's men's lives.[493-2]
The Antiquary. Chap. xi.
When Israel, of the Lord belov'd, Out of the land of bondage came, Her fathers' God before her mov'd, An awful guide in smoke and flame.
Ivanhoe. Chap. xxxix.
Sea of upturned faces.[493-3]
Rob Roy. Chap. xx.
There 's a gude time coming.
Rob Roy. Chap. xxxii.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
Rob Roy. Chap. xxxiv.
Scared out of his seven senses.[493-4]
Rob Roy. Chap. xxxiv.
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.
Old Mortality. Chap. xxxiv.
The happy combination of fortuitous circumstances.[494-1]
Answer to the Author of Waverley to the Letter of Captain Clutterbuck. The Monastery.
Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!
The Monastery. Chap. xii.
And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
The Monastery. Chap. xii.
Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea. The orange flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea.
Quentin Durward. Chap. iv.
Widowed wife and wedded maid.
The Betrothed. Chap. xv.
Woman's faith and woman's trust, Write the characters in dust.
The Betrothed. Chap. xx.
I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed the milky mothers of the herd.[494-2]
The Betrothed. Chap. xxviii.
But with the morning cool reflection came.[494-3]
Chronicles of the Canongate. Chap. iv.
What can they see in the longest kingly line in Europe, save that it runs back to a successful soldier?[494-4]
Woodstock. Chap. xxxvii.
The playbill, which is said to have announced the tragedy of Hamlet, the character of the Prince of Denmark being left out.
The Talisman. Introduction.
Rouse the lion from his lair.
The Talisman. Chap. vi.
Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye 're sleeping.[495-1]
The Heart of Midlothian. Chap. viii.
Fat, fair, and forty.[495-2]
St. Ronan's Well. Chap. vii.
"Lambe them, lads! lambe them!" a cant phrase of the time derived from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, who was knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles the First's time.
Peveril of the Peak. Chap. xlii.
Although too much of a soldier among sovereigns, no one could claim with better right to be a sovereign among soldiers.[495-3]
Life of Napoleon.
The sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.[495-4]
Life of Napoleon. (February, 1807.)
FOOTNOTES:
[488-1] Did not our heart burn within us while he talked with us by the way?—Luke xxiv. 32.
Hath not thy heart within thee burned At evening's calm and holy hour?
S. G. BULFINCH: The Voice of God in the Garden.
[488-2] See Pope, page 341.
[489-1] See Freneau, page 443.
[489-2] Reproof on her lips, but a smile in her eye.—LOVER: Rory O'More.
[490-1] See Shakespeare, page 144.
Scott, writing to Southey in 1810, said: "A witty rogue the other day, who sent me a letter signed Detector, proved me guilty of stealing a passage from one of Vida's Latin poems, which I had never seen or heard of." The passage alleged to be stolen ends with,—
"When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!"
which in Vida "ad Eranen," El. ii. v. 21, ran,—
"Cum dolor atque supercilio gravis imminet angor, Fungeris angelico sola ministerio."
"It is almost needless to add," says Mr. Lockhart, "there are no such lines."—Life of Scott, vol. iii. p. 294. (American edition.)
[490-2] Oh for the voice of that wild horn!—Rob Roy, chap. ii.
[492-1] See Massinger, page 194.
[493-1] This proverb, so frequently ascribed to Scott, is a common proverb of the seventeenth century. It is found in Ray and other collections of proverbs.
[493-2] It is not linen you 're wearing out, But human creatures's lives.
HOOD: Song of the Shirt.
[493-3] DANIEL WEBSTER: Speech, Sept. 30, 1842.
[493-4] Huzzaed out of my seven senses.—Spectator, No. 616, Nov. 5, 1774.
[494-1] Fearful concatenation of circumstances.—DANIEL WEBSTER: Argument on the Murder of Captain White, 1830.
Fortuitous combination of circumstances.—DICKENS: Our Mutual Friend, vol. ii. chap. vii. (American edition).
[494-2] See Spenser, page 27.
[494-3] See Rowe, page 301.
[494-4] Le premier qui fut roi, fut un soldat heureux: Qui sert bien son pays, n'a pas besoin d'aieux
(The first who was king was a successful soldier. He who serves well his country has no need of ancestors).—VOLTAIRE: Merope, 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] |
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