XXXIII.
There's many a name of noble fame
Writ in your ancient roll;
There's many an honest statesman yet
Of free and generous soul:
Why stoop to those who cannot walk
With high and upright head,
Whose living souls no kindred own
With thy time-honoured dead?
XXXIV.
The worst of all—the thrice-forsworn—
The gamester of thy fame—
How dares he deem that aftertimes
Will give him aught but shame?
Let monuments be reared above—
Of marble heap a hill—
The peasant's curse upon his head
Shall weigh the heavier still!
Díes Boreales.
No. VI.
CHRISTOPHER UNDER CANVASS.
Camp at Cladich.
Scene I.—The Wren's Nest.
Time—Six a.m.
North—Talboys—Seward.
NORTH.
You recollect the words of Edmund in Lear—