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LORD BROUGHAM. 1779-1868.

Let the soldier be abroad if he will, he can do nothing in this age. There is another personage, a personage less imposing in the eyes of some, perhaps insignificant. The schoolmaster is abroad, and I trust to him, armed with his primer, against the soldier in full military array. Speech, Jan. 29,1828.

In my mind, he was guilty of no error, he was chargeable with no exaggeration, he was betrayed by his fancy into no metaphor, who once said, that all we see about us, kings, lords, and commons, the whole machinery of the state, all the apparatus of the system, and its varied workings, end in simply bringing twelve good men into a box. Present State of the Law, Feb. 7,1828.

Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties.1
Death was now armed with a new terror.2

EMMA WILLARD. 1787-1870.

Rocked in the cradle of the deep,

I lay me down in peace to sleep. The Cradle of the Deep.

1 The title given by Lord Brougham to a book published in 1830.

a Brougham delivered a very warm panegyric upon the Ex-Chanccllor, and expressed a hope that he would make a good end. Although to an expiring Chancellor Death was now armed with a new terror. — Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors, Vol. viii. p. 163.

Lord St. Leonards attributes this phrase to Sir Charles Wetlierell, who used it on the occasion referred to by Lord Campbell.

From Edmund CurlPs practice of issuing miserable catch-penny lives of every eminent person immediately after his decease, Arbuthnot wittily styled him "one of the new terrors of death." —Carruther's Life of Pope, 2d ed., p. 149.

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When Freedom from her mountain height

Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night.

And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure, celestial white
With streakings of the morning light.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home!

By angel hands to valour given! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?

The Ameriean Flag.


Her very frowns are fairer far

Than smiles of other maidens are. She is not fair.


And the cold marble leapt to life a god.

The Belvedere Apollo. Too fair to worship, too divine to love. Ibid.

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B. E. O'MEARA. 1778-1836.

March to the battlefield,

The foe is now before us; Each heart is Freedom's shield,

And heaven is shining o'er us. March to the Battk-FUld.

EATON S. BARRETT. 1785-1820.

Not she with trait'rous kiss her Saviour stung,
Not she denied him with unholy tongue;
She, while apostles shrank, could danger brave.
Last at his cross, and earliest at his grave.

Woman. (Ed. 1&22.) Part i.


Lo, where the stage, the poor, degraded stage,

Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age. Curiosity.

Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends,
An incarnation of fat dividends. Ibid.

Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze
We lift our heads, a race of other days.

Centennial Ode. Stanza 22.

Yes, social friend, I love thee well,

In learned doctors spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,

And lap me in delight. To my Ci'j.ir. FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. 1790-1867.

Strike — for your altars and your fires;
Strike — for the green graves of your sires;

God, and your native land! Marco BozzarU.

Come to the bridal chamber, Death!

Come to the mother's, when she feels,
For the first time, her first-born's breath;

Come when the blessed seals
That close the pestilence are broke,
And crowded cities wail its stroke;
Come in consumption's ghastly form,
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;
Come when the heart beats high and warm,

With banquet song, and dance, and wine;
And thou art terrible, — the tear,
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,
And all we know, or dream, or fear

Of agony are thine. Ibid.

But to the hero, when his sword

Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard

The thanks of millions yet to be. Ibid.

One of the few, the immortal names,

That were not born to die. Ibid.

Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines,
Shrines to no code or creed confined, —

The Delphian vales, the Palestines,

The Meccas of the mind. Burn$.


Green be the turf above thee,

Friend of my better days;
None knew thee but to love thee,1

Nor named thee but to praise.

On the Death qfjoiepk Rodman Drake.
There is an evening twilight of the heart,
When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest. Tmliyht.

They love their land, because it is their own,
And scorn to give aught other reason why;

Would shake hands with a king upon his throne,
And think it kindness to his majesty. Connecticut.

This bank-note world. Alnwick Castle.

Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt,
The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt,
The Douglas in red herrings. Ibid.

JOHN G. LOCKHART. 1794-1854.

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay your golden cushion down; Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

The Bridal of Andalla.


Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a sceptred hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his own

originality. The Character of Napoleon.

1 Compare Rogers, Jacqueline. Page 401.

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