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Sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, 0 Union, strong and great ! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! The Building of the Ship Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee, are all with thee!

Ibid. The leaves of memory seemed to make

A mournful rustling in the dark. The Fire of Drift-wood. There is no flock, however watched and tended,

But one dead lamb is there;
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended;
But has one vacant chair.

Resignation.
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead.

Ibid. But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.

Ibid. What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.

1bich There is no death! What seems so is transition ;

This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.

Ibid.
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
She lives whom we call dead.

Ibid.
In the elder days of Art,

Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
For the gods see everywhere.

The Builders This is the forest primeval.

Evangeline. Parti

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.

Evangeline. Parti.l. Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

Parti. 3.

And as she looked around, she saw how Death the

consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.

Part ii. 5.

God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting.

The Courtship of Miles Standish. it.
Into a world unknown, the corner-stone of a nation!

Ibid.
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,

That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame.3

The Ladder of Saint Augustine
The heights by great men reached and kept

Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they while their companions slept
Were toiling upward in the night.

Ibid.
The surest pledge of a deathless name
Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.

The Herons of Elmwood.
He has singed the beard of the king of Spain.

The Dutch Picture

i See Stoughton, page 266. 2 Plymouth rock.

8 I held it truth, with him who sings

To one clear harp in divers tones,

That men may rise on stepping-stones
Of their dead selves to higher things.

TENNYSON : In Memoriam, i.
4 Sir Francis Drake entered the harbour of Cadiz, April 19, 1587, and
destroyed shipping to the amount of ten thousand tons lading. To use
his own expressive phrase, he had "singed the Spanish king's beard." -
KNIGHT: Pictorial History of England, vol. iii. p. 215.

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The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,
And all the sweet serenity of books. Morituri Salutamus.

With useless endeavour
Forever, forever,
Is Sisyphus rolling
His stone up the mountain !

The Masque of Pandora. Chorus of the Eumenides. All things come round to him who will but wait.

Tales of a Wayside Inn. The Student's Tale. Time has laid his hand Upon my heart gently, not smiting it, But as a harper lays his open palm Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.

The Golden Legend. iv. Hospitality sitting with Gladness.

Translation from Frithiof's Saga.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate,

Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours
Weeping upon his bed has sate,
He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.

Motto, Hyperion. Book 1.2
Something the heart must have to cherish,

Must love and joy and sorrow learn ;
Something with passion clasp, or perish
And in itself to ashes burn.

Ibid. Book ü. Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of passion with from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.

Hyperion. Book iv. Chap. viii.

1 See Emerson, page 601.

2 Wer nie sein Brod mit Thränen ass,

Wer nicht die kummervollen Nächte
Auf seinem Bette weinend sass,
Der kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte.

GOETHE : Wilhelm Wrister, book ii. chap. xiii. Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.

Katua na igh. .

There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery.

Inferno. Canto +. Line 121,

JOHN G. WHITTIER. 1807

So fallen ! so lost! the light withdrawn

Which once he wore;
The glory from his gray hairs gone

For evermore !

Ichabol

Making their lives a prayer.

To A. K. On receiving a Basket of Sen-Moses
And step by step, since time began,
I see the steady gain of man.

The Chapel of the llermis-
For still the new transcends the old
In signs and tokens manifold;
Slaves rise up men; the olive waves,
With roots deep set in battle graves !

Ibid.

Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time,

So “ Bonnie Doon" but tarry;
Blot out the epic's stately rhyme,
But
spare his “Highland Mary!”

Lines on Burns,

i Quoted from Cotton's “ To-morrow." See Genesis xxx. 3. 2 See Chaucer, page 5.

In omni adversitate fortunæ, infelicissimum genus est infortunii fuisse felicem (In every adversity of fortune, to have been happy is the most unhappy kind of misfortune). - BOETHIUS : De Consolatione Philosophiæ, fiber ii.

This is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things,

Tennysor : Locksley Hall

, line 78

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: “It might have been!”

Maud Muller.

Low stir of leaves and dip of oars
And lapsing waves on quiet shores. .

Snow Bound.

The hope of all who suffer,
The dread of all who wrong.

The Mantle of St. John de Matha
I know not where His islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift

Beyond His love and care. The Eternal Goodness

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SALMON P. CHASE. 1808–1873. The Constitution, in all its provisions, looks to an in. destructible Union composed of indestructible States.

Decision in Texas v. White, 7 Wallace, 725. No more slave States ; no slave Territories.

Platform of the Free Soil National Convention, 1848. The way to resumption is to resume.

Letter to Horace Greeley, March 17, 1866

SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH.

1808

My country, 't is of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing :
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,

every mountain-side
Let freedom ring.

From

National Hymn

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