Over the unreturning brave,—alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass," &c.—Childe Harold, Canto iii. St. 27.
"The morning of the day on which the farmer was to be buried, was rendered remarkable by the uncommon denseness of an autumnal fog. To Mrs. Mason's eye, it threw a gloom over the face of nature; nor, when it gradually yielded to the influence of the sun, and slowly retiring from the valley, hung, as if rolled into masses, mid-way upon the mountains, did the changes thus produced excite any admiration. Still, wherever she looked, all seemed to wear the aspect of sadness. As she passed from Morrison's to the house of mourning, the shocks of yellow corn, spangled with dewdrops, appeared to her to stand as mementos of the vanity of human hopes, and the inutility of human labours. The cattle, as they went forth to pasture, lowing as they went, seemed as if lamenting that the hand which fed them was at rest; and even the Robin-red-breast, whose cheerful notes she had so often listened to with pleasure, now seemed to send forth a song of sorrow, expressive of dejection and woe."—Miss Hamilton's Cottagers of Glenburnie, chap. xii.
C. Forbes.
Temple.
Minor Notes.
"In the Sweat of thy Brow" (Vol. ii., p. 374.).—To the scriptural misquotation referred to, you may add another:
"In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread."
The true text reads,—