Footnotes

[590:1] See Butler, page [215].

[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."

[[594]]

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.

[[595]]

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]

[[596]]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.