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s She [the Roman Catholic Church] may still exist in undiminished vigour, when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's. MACAULAY—Ranke's History of the Popes. Same idea in his Review of MITFORD's Greece. Last Par. (1824) Also in his Review of MILL's Essay on Government. (1829) Same .."; also in Poems of a Young Nobleman ily deceased—supposed to be writted by THoMAs, second Lord LYTTLEToN, describing particularly the State of , and the once flourishing City of London. In a letter from an American Traveller, dated from the Ruinous Portico of St. Paul's, in the year 2199 to a friend settled in Boston, the Metropolis of the Western Empire. (1771) The original said
to be taken from Louis S. MERCIER—L'An Deur Mille Quatre Cent-Quaranle. Written 1768, pub. 1770. Disowned in part by his executors.
(See also BARBAULD)
9 For such a numerous host Fled not in silence through the frighted deep With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
MILTON.—Paradise Lost. Bk. II. L. 993.
10 Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies; and all That shared its shelter, perish in its fall.
WM. PITT–The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin.
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 the Third.
(See also BARBAULD)
12 Red ruin and the breaking-up of all. TENNYSON.—Idylls of the King. Guinevere. Fifth line.
13 Behold this ruin! 'Twas a skull Once of ethereal spirit full! This narrow cell was Life's retreat; This place was Thought's mysterious seat! What beauteous pictures fill'd that spot, What dreams of pleasure, long forgot! Nor Love, nor Joy, nor Hope, nor Fear, Has left one trace, one record here. ANNA JANE WARDILL (Mrs. James Niven.) Appeared in E n Magazine, Nov., 1816, with signature V. Since said to have been found near a skeleton in the Royal College of Surgeons, Lincoln's Inn, London. Falsely claimed for J. D. GoRDMAN. Robert PHILIP claims it in a newspaper pub. 1826. 14 Etiam quas sibi quisque timebat Unius in miseri exitium conversa tulere. What each man feared would happen to himself, did not trouble him when he saw that it would ruin another. VERGIL–AEmeid. II. 130.
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?
olNEY-Ruins. Ch. II.
And of so easy and so plain a stop
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd.
13 The rolling fictions grow in strength and size, Each author adding to the former lies.
SwiFT-Tro of Ovid. Examiner, No. 15.
14 What some invent the rest enlarge. Swift—Journal of a Modern Lady. 15 Ad calamitatem quilibet rumor valet. * Every rumor is believed against the unfortunate. SYRUs—Marims. 16 Haud semper erret fama; aliquando et elegit. Rumor does not always err; it sometimes even elects a man. TACITUs—Agricola. IX.
17 There is nothing which cannot be perverted
by being told badly. TERENCE—Phormio. Act IV.
18 Tattlers also and busybodies, speaking things which they o not. I Timothy. W. 13.
19 Extemplo Libya magnas it Fama per urbes: Fama malum quo non velocius ullum; Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit eundo; Parva metu primo; mox sese attollit in auras, Ingrediturque solo, st caput. inter nobilia condit.
Monstrum, horrendum ingens; cuiquot sunt corpore plumas Tot vigiles oculi subter, mirabile dictu, Tot linguæ, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures. Straightway throughout the Libyan cities flies rumor;-the report of evil things than which nothing is swifter; it flourishes by its very activity and gains new strength by its movements; small at first through fear, it soon raises itself aloft and sweeps onward along the earth. Yet its head reaches the clouds. * * * A huge and horrid monster covered with many feathers: and for every plume a sharp eye, for every pinion a biting tongue. Everywhere its voices sound, to everything its ears are open. VERGIL–AEmeid. IV. 173.
20 Fama volat parvam subito vulgata per urbem. The rumor forthwith flies abroad, dispersed throughout the small town. VERGIL–AEneid. VIII. 554. 21 Linguæ centum sunt, oraque centum Ferrea vox. It (rumour) has a hundred tongues, a hundred mouths, a voice of iron. VERGIL–Georgics. II. 44. (Adapted.)
12 SABBATH For, bless the gude mon, gin he had his ain way,
1. On Sundays, at the matin-chime, . The Alpine peasants, two and three, Climb up here to pray; Burghers and dames, at summer's prime, Ride out to church from Chamberry, Dight with mantles gay, But else it is a lonely time Round the Church of Brou. MATTHEw ARNOLD-The Church of Brou. II. St. 3.
2 Thou art my single day, God lends to leaven What were all earth else, with a feel of heaven.
Robert BRowNING—Pippa Passes. Sc. 1.
Of all the days that's in the week,
And that's the day that comes betwixt
4 How still the morning of the hallow'd day! Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's
Song. JAMEs GRAHAME-The Sabbath. Song.
5 Gently on tiptoe Sunday creeps, Cheerfully from the stars he peeps, Mortals are all asleep below, None in the village hears him go; E’en chanticleer keeps very still, For Sunday whispered, 'twas his will. John PETER HEBEL–Sunday Morning.
6 Sundaies observe: think when the bells do chime, 'Tis angel's musick; therefore come not late.
HERBERT-Temple. The Church Porch. St.
7 The Sundaies of man's life, Thredded together on time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal, glorious King. On Sunday heaven's gates stand ope; Blessings are plentiful and rife. More plentiful than hope. HERBERT-Temple. The Church. Sunday.
s Now, really, this appears the common case Of putting too much Sabbath into Sunday— But what is your opinion, Mrs. Grundy? Hood—An Open Question. St. 1.
9 Day of the Lord, as all our days should be! LONGFELLow—Christus. Pt. III. John Endicott. Act I. Sc. 2. 10 The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath. Mark. II. 27.
So sang they, and the empyrean rung
With Hallelujahs. Thus was Sabbath kept. MILTON.—Paradise Lost. Bk. VII. L. 632.
1 Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, We look before and after, A tim’rous foe, and a suspicious friend.
And pine for what is not, Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught: Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. SHELLEY-To a Skylark. St. 18.
PopF–Prologue to Satires. L. 201. (See also WYCHERLEY under PRAISE) 12 Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel? Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel? PoPE—Prologue to Satires. L.307. (“Sporus,” LoRD JoHN HERVEY.)
13 There are, to whom my satire seems too bold; Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough, And something said of Chartres much too rough.
PopF—Second Book of Horace. Satire I. L.2.
Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet. PopF-Second Book of Horace. Satire I. L.71.
15 It is a pretty mocking of the life. Timon of Athens. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 35.
16 La Satire ment sur les gens de lettres pendant leur vie, et l'éloge ment après leur mort. Satire lies about literary men while they live and eulogy lies about them when they die. WoLTAIRE–Lettre à Bordes. Jan. 10, 1769.
Il plait a tout le monde et ne saurait se plaire.
18 Nul n'est content desa fortune; Nimécontent de son esprit. No one is satisfied with his fortune, nor dissatisfied with his intellect. DESHOULIEREs.
Bene est, cui Deus obtulit
Those who seek for much are left in want
of much. o is he to whom God has given, with sparing hand, as much as is enough. HoRACE—Carmina. Bk. III. 16. 42.
20 Ohel jam satis est. Now, that's enough. HoRACE—Epistles. I. 5. 12. MARTIAL– Epigrams. IV. 91. 1.
21 Sed tacitus pasci si posset corvus, haberet Plus dapis, et rixae multo minus invidiaeque. If the crow had been satisfied to eat his prey in silence, he would have had more meat and less quarreling and envy. HoRACE—Epistles. I. 17. 50.
22 Les délicats sont malheureux, Rien ne saurait les satisfaire. The fastidious are unfortunate: nothing can satisfy them. La FoxTAINE–Fables. II. 1.