Footnotes

[769:2] But where is last year's snow? This was the greatest care that Villon, the Parisian poet, took.—Rabelais: book ii. chap. xiv.

(Translation by Mrs. Henry Roscoe.)

As when, O lady mine!

With chiselled touch

The stone unhewn and cold

Becomes a living mould.

The more the marble wastes,

The more the statue grows.

Sonnet.

A mighty fortress is our God,

A bulwark never failing;

Our helper He amid the flood

Of mortal ills prevailing.

Psalm. Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott (trans. by Frederic H. Hedge).

Tell your master that if there were as many devils at Worms as tiles on its roofs, I would enter.[770:1]

Here I stand; I can do no otherwise. God help me. Amen!

Speech at the Diet of Worms.

For where God built a church, there the Devil would also build a chapel.[770:2]

Table-Talk. lxvii.

A faithful and good servant is a real godsend; but truly 't is a rare bird in the land.

Table-Talk. clvi.