following the sun, and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth with one continuous and unbroken strain of the martial airs of England.1 Speech, May 7, 1834.

Sea of upturned faces.2

Speech, September 30, 1842.

I was born an American; I live an American; I shall die an American.

Speech of July 17, 1850.

1 Why should the brave Spanish soldier brag the sun never sets in the Spanish dominions, but ever shineth on one part or other we have conquered for our king? Capt. John Smith, Advertisements for the Unexperienced, &c., Coll. Mass. Hist. Soc., 3d Ser. Vol. iii. p. 49.

I am called

The richest monarch in the Christian world;
The sun in my dominions never sets.

Ich heisse

Der reichste Mann in der getauften Welt;

Die Sonne geht in meinem Staat nicht unter.
Schiller, Don Karlos, Act i. Sc. 6.

The stake I play for is immense, I will continue in my own dynasty the family system of the Bourbons, and unite Spain forever to the destinies of France. Remember that the sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V. (Napoleon, February, 1807). — Walter Scott, Life of Napoleon.

2 This phrase, commonly supposed to have originated with Mr. Webster, occurs in Rob Roy, Vol. i. Ch. 20.

When I see a merchant over-polite to his customers, begging them to taste a little brandy and throwing half his goods on the counter, thinks I, that man has an axe to grind.

Who'll turn Grindstones.1

WASHINGTON IRVING.

1783-1859.

Free-livers on a small scale, who are prodigal within the compass of a guinea.

The Stout Gentleman.

The Almighty Dollar, that great object of universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotees in these peculiar villages. The Creole Village.

SIR W. F. P. NAPIER. 1785-1860. Napoleon's troops fought in bright fields, where every helmet caught some beams of glory, but the British soldier conquered under the cool shade of aristocracy; no honours awaited his daring, no despatch gave his name to the applauses of his countrymen; his life of danger and hardship was uncheered by hope, his death unnoticed.

Peninsular War. Vol. ii. Book xi. Ch. 3. 1810.

1 From Essays from the Desk of Poor Robert the Scribe, Doylestown, Pa., 1815. It first appeared in the Wilkesbarre Gleaner. 1811.

LORD BYRON. 1788-1824.

Farewell! if ever fondest prayer

For other's weal avail'd on high,
Mine will not all be lost in air,

But waft thy name beyond the sky.
Farewell! if ever.

Fools are my theme, let satire be my song. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 6.

'T is pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print ; A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.

Line 51.

With just enough of learning to misquote.

As soon

Line 66.

Seek roses in December,―ice in June;
Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff,
Believe a woman, or an epitaph,

Or any other thing that's false, before
You trust in critics.

Line 75.

Perverts the Prophets and purloins the Psalms. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Line 326.

O Amos Cottle! Phoebus! what a name!

Line 399.

So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart.1

Line 826.

Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
And decorate the verse herself inspires :
This fact, in Virtue's name, let Crabbe attest:
Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.
Line 839.

Maid of Athens, ere we part,

Give, oh, give me back my heart!

Maid of Athens.

Had sighed to many though he loved but one. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. St. 5.

If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy

men.

Canto i. St. 7.

1 That eagle's fate and mine are one,

Which on the shaft that made him die

Espied a feather of his own,

Wherewith he wont to soar so high.

Waller, To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing.

Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom;
See their own feathers pluck'd, to wing the dart
Which rank corruption destines for their heart.
T. Moore, Corruption

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto i. St. 9.

O Christ! it is a goodly sight to see

What Heaven hath done for this delicious land. Canto i. St. 15.

In hope to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell.
Canto i. St. 20.

By Heaven it is a splendid sight to see
For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
Canto i. St. 40.

Still from the fount of Joy's delicious springs
Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom

1 Medio de fonte leporum

Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat.

Lucretius. iv. 1. 1133.

2 "War even to the knife," was the reply of Palafox, the governor of Saragoza, when summoned to surrender by the French, who besieged that city in 1808.