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Memory makes her influence known
By sighs, and tears, and grief alone: I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong The vulture’s ravening beak, the raven's funeral song.
She tells of time mispent, of comfort lost,
Of fair occasions gone for ever by ;
For what, except the instinctive fear
What, but the deep inherent dread
Page 34, line 17. Hast thou thro' Eden's wild-wood vales pursued On the road-side between Penrith and Appleby there stands a small pillar with this inscription:
" This pillar was erected in the year 1656, by Ann, Countess Dowager of Pembroke, &c. for a memorial of her last parting, in this place, with her good and pious mother, Margaret, Countess Dowager of Cumberland, on the 2d of April, 1616; in memory whereof she hath left an annuity of 41. to be distributed to the poor of the parish of Brougham, every 2d day of April for ever, upon the stone-table placed hard by. Laus Deo!”
The Eden is the principal river of Cumberland, and rises in the wildest part of Westmoreland.
Page 35, line 4. O’er his dead son the gallant ORMOND sighed. “ I would not exchange my dead son,” said he, for any living son in Christendom.”-HUME.
The same sentiment is inscribed on an urn at the Leasowes. Heu, quanto minus est cum reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse !”
Page 41, line 4. Down by St. Herbert's consecrated grove ; A small island covered with trees, among which were formerly the ruins of a religious house.
Page 41, line 21. When lo! a sudden blast the vessel blew, In a mountain-lake the agitations are often violent and momentary The winds blow in gusts and eddies ; and the water no sooner swells, than it subsides. - See BOURN's Hist. of Westmoreland.
Page 43, line 7. To what pure beings, in a nobler sphere, The several degrees of angels may probably have larger views, and some of them be endowed with capacities able to retain together, and constantly set before them, as in one picture, all their past knowledge at once. -LOCKE.
et pauper agelle, Me tibi, et hos una mecum, quos semper amavi, Commendo.
Every reader turns with pleasure to those passages of Horace, and Pope, and Boileau, which describe how they lived and where they dwelt; and which, being interspersed among their satirical writings, derive a secret and irresistible grace from the contrast, and are admirable examples of what Painting is termed repose.
We have admittance to Horace at all hours. We enjoy the company and conversation at his table; and his suppers, like Plato's, “ non solum in præsentia, sed etiam postero die jucundæ sunt.” But, when we look round as we sit there, we find ourselves in a Sabine farm, and not in a Roman villa. His windows have every charm of prospect; but his furniture might have descended from Cincinnatus; and gems, and pictures, and old marbles, are mentioned by him more than once with a seeming indifference.
His English Imitator thought and felt, perhaps, more correctly on the subject; and embellished his garden and grotto with great industry and success. But to these alone he solicits our notice. On the