Footnotes
ROBERT BLAIR. 1699-1747.
The Grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou 'rt named: Nature, appall'd,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.
The Grave. Part i. Line 9.
The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.[354:2]
The Grave. Part i. Line 58.
Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul!
Sweetener of life! and solder of society!
The Grave. Part i. Line 88.
Of joys departed,
Not to return, how painful the remembrance!
The Grave. Part i. Line 109.
[[355]]
![[355]](#2001010581228339517_355.png.id-5275570076631263041.wrap-0.html.html){kind=link}
The cup goes round:
And who so artful as to put it by!
'T is long since Death had the majority.
The Grave. Part ii. Line 449.
The good he scorn'd
Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or if it did, in visits
Like those of angels, short and far between.[355:1]
The Grave. Part ii. Line 586.