The very marrow of tradition 's shown;
And all that history, much that fiction weaves.

To the Editor of the Every Day Book. He might have proved a useful adjunct, if not an ornament to society.

Captain Starkey. Neat, not gaudy.'

Letter to Wordsworth, 1806. Martin, if dirt was trumps, what hands you would hold!

Lamb's Suppers. Returning to town in the stage-coach, which was filled with Mr. Gilman's guests, we stopped for a minute or two at entish Town. A woman asked the coachman, “Are you full inside ? " Upon which Lamb put his head through the window and said, “I am quite full inside; that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gilman's did the business for me."

Autobiographical Recollections. (Leslie.)

JAMES SMITH. 1775-1839.

No Drury Lane for you to-day.

Rejected Addresses. The Baby's Debut.
I saw them go: one horse was blind,
The tails of both hung down behind,
Their shoes were on their feet.

Ibid.
Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait.

The Theatre.

WILLIAM PITT. --1840.

A strong nor'-wester's blowing, Bill !

Hark! don't ye hear it roar now?
Lord help 'em, how I pities them

Unhappy folks on shore now!

The Sailor's Consolation,

1 See Shakespeare, page 130.

My eyes! what tiles and chimney-pots
About their heads are flying ! The Sailor's Consolation.

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

1775–1864.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes

May weep, but never see,
A night of memories and of sighs
I consecrate to ee.

Rose Aylmer.
Wearers of rings and chains !
Pray do not take the pains

To set me right.
In vain my faults ye quote;
I write as others wrote
On Sunium's hight.

The last Fruit of an old Tree. Epigram cvi.
Shakespeare is not our poet, but the world's,' -
Therefore on him no speech! And brief for thee,
Browning! Since Chaucer was alive and hale,
No man hath walk'd along our roads with steps
So active, so inquiring eye, or tongue
So varied in discourse.

To Robert Browning. The Siren waits thee, singing song for song.

Ibid.
But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue
Within, and they that lustre have imbibed
In the sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked
His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave:
Shake one, and it awakens; then apply
Its polisht lips to your attentive ear,

1 Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.

R. W. EMERSON : May-Day and Other Pieces. Solution

And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.?

Gehir. Book i. (1798)
Past are three summers since she first beheld
The
ocean;

all around the child await
Some exclamation of amazement here.
She coldly said, her long-lasht eyes abased,
Is this the mighty ocean? is this all ?
That wondrous soul Charoba once possest,
Capacious, then, as earth or heaven could hold,
Soul discontented with capacity, -
Is gone (I fear) forever. Need I say
She was enchanted by the wicked spells
Of Gebir, whom with lust of power inflamed
The western winds have landed on our coast?
I since have watcht her in lone retreat,
Have heard her sigh and soften out the name.” Book
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife;

Nature I loved ; and next to Nature, Art.
I warm’d both hands against the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

Dying Speech of an old Philosopher.

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 1777-1844.

'T is distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.3

Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 7..
I See Wordsworth, page 480.

Poor shell ! that Wordsworth so pounded and flattened in his marsh it no longer had the hoarseness of a sea, but of a hospital. - LANDOR : Letter to John Forster.

2 These lines were specially singled out for admiration by Shelley, Hum phrey Davy, Scott, and many remarkable men. – FORSTER: Life of Landor, vol. i. p. 95. 8 See John Webster, page 181.

The mountains too, at a distance, appear airy masses and smooth, but seen near at hand they are rough. - DIOGENES LAERTIUS : Pyrrho, it.

But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind.

Pleasures of Hope. Part i. Line 40, 0 Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save! Line 359. Hope for a season bade the world farewell, And Freedom shriek'd as Kosciusko fell ! 1 Line 381. On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow, His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below. Line 385. And rival all but Shakespeare's name below. Line 472. Who hath not own’d, with rapture-smitten frame, The power

of

grace, the magic of a name? Part ii. Line 8. Without the smile from partial beauty won, Oh what were man ?

a world without a sun. Line 21, The world was sad, the garden was a wild, And man the hermit sigh'd -till woman smiled.

Line 37. While Memory watches o'er the sad review Of joys that faded like the morning dew.

Line 45 There shall he love when genial morn appears, Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.

Line 95. And muse on Nature with a poet's eye.

Line 98. That gems the starry girdle of the year.

Line 194 Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Cimmerian darkness o'er the parting soul !

Line 263. O stareyed Science ! hast thou wandered there, To waft as home the message of despair ?

Line 325 But sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

Line 357.

1 At length, fatigued with life, he bravely fell,
And health with Boerhaave bade the world farewell.

CHURCH: The Choice (1754).
See Sterne, page 379.

Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind,
But leave, oh leave the light of Hope behind !
What though my winged hours of bliss have been
Like angel visits, few and far between.1

Pleasures of Hope. Part ii. Line 375.
The hunter and the deer a shade.?

O'Connor's Child. Stanza 3
Another's sword has laid him low,

Another's and another's;
And every hand that dealt the blow -
Ah me! it was a brother's !

Stanza 10,

'T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.3

Lochiel's Warning:
Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,
With his back to the field and his feet to the foe,
And leaving in battle no blot on his name,
Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.

Tbid.
And rustic life and poverty
Grow beautiful beneath his touch.

Ode to the Memory of Burns.
Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,
Whose truths electrify the sage.

Ibid.
Ye mariners of England,
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!

Ye Mariners of England
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain waves,
Her home is on the deep.

Ibid.

2 See Freneau, page 443.

1 See Norris, page 281.

8 See Coleridge, page 504.