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is more than intellectual, — we have here an element of great ness more glorious than anything of which the ancient world can boast.
9. Our heritage of culture comes to us from all the ages. It contains the good of all times. It offers for our use and enjoyment the profound meditations of the Orient, the chaste beauty of the Greek, the masculine energy of the Roman, the gorgeous speculation of the Arab, the serene self-denial of the Christian. It is the spur of our youth and the solace of our age.
It kindles our aspirations and refines our souls.
It establishes a bond between us and our kind through all time. It exalts our conception of common humanity by keeping before us the noblest results it has achieved.
10. And if fortune is to frown upon us at all, we bid her take our outward prosperity, our houses, our lands, our railways, and our shipping; let her derange our commerce, and suspend our business; yes, if the dire necessity comes, let her take from us even the institutions that have protected our infancy and nourished our manhood; but let her not rob us of that which underlies our institutions and is of more value than all our wealth, - that which pervades our very being and is the best part of our life,—the heritage of knowledge and culture which has descended from the good and great of bygone times.
LXXIX.--THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE,
1 Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried ;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
2. We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning;
And the lantern dimly burning.
3. No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
4. Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
And bitterly thought of the morrow.
And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow.
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
In the grave where a Briton has laid him, 7. But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing. 8. Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line,--and we raised not a stone
But left him alone with his glory.
LXXX.- VIRTUE TO BE LOVED AND SOUGHT
FROM CLEVELAND'S CLASSICAL LITERATURE.
1. That everything which is honorable is to be sought for its own sake, is an opinion common to us with many
other schools of philosophers. For, except the three sects which exclude virtue from the chief good, this opinion must be maintained by all philosophers, and above all by us, who do not rank anything whatever among goods except what is honorable. But the defense of this opinion is very easy and simple indeed; for who is there or who ever was there, of such violent avarice or of such unbridled desires, as not infinitely to prefer that anything which he wishes to acquire, even at the expense of any conceivable wickedness, should come into his power without crime (even though he had a prospect of perfect impunity) than through crime? And what utility or what personal advantage do we hope for, when we are anxious to know whether those bodies are moving whose movements are concealed from us, and owing to what causes they revolve through the heavens ?
2. And who is there that lives according to such clownish maxims, or who has so rigorously hardened himself against the study of nature, as to be averse to things worthy to be understood, and to be indifferent to and disregard such knowledge, merely because there is no exact usefulness or pleasure likely to result from it? Or, who is there that — when he comes to know the exploits and sayings and wise counsels of our forefathers, of the Africani, or of that ancestor of mine whom you are always talking of, and of other brave men and citizens of pre-eminent virtue - does not feel his mind affected with pleasure? And who that has been brought up in a respectable family, and educated as becomes a freeman, is not offended with baseness as such, though it may not be likely to injure him personally?
3. Who can keep his equanimity while looking on a man who, he thinks, lives in an impure and wicked manner? Who does not hate sordid, fickle, unstable, worthless men ? But what shall we be able to say (if we do not lay it down that baseness is to be avoided for its own sake ) is the reason why men do not seek darkness and solitude, and then give the rein to every possible infamy, except that baseness of itself detects them by reason of its own intrinsic foulness? Innumerable arguments may be brought forward to support this opinion; but it is needless, for there is nothing which can be less a matter of doubt than that what is honorable ought to be sought for its own sake; and, in the same manner, what is disgraceful ought to be avoided.
4. But after that point is established, which we have previously mentioned, that that which is honorable is the sole good, it must unavoidably be understood that that which is honorable is to be valued more highly than those intermediate goods which we derive from it. But when we say that folly and rashness and injustice and intemperance are to be avoided on account of those things which result from them, we do not speak in such a manner that our language is at all inconsistent with the position which has been laid down, that that alone is evil which is dishonorable.
LXXXI.-THE BURIAL OF MOSES.
" And he buried bim in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor. but no man knoweth of his sepulcler to this day.”—Deut. XXXIV: 6.
1. By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab,
There lies a lonely grave;
And no man saw it e'er,
And laid the dead man there.
2. That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth; But no man heard the tramping,
Or saw the train go forth; Noiselessly as the day-light
Comes when the night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek
Grows into the great sun,
3. Noiselessly as the spring-time
Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills
Open their thousand leaves, So, without sound of music
Or voice of them that wept, Silently down from the mountain crown
The great procession swept.
4. Perchance the bald old eagle,
On grey Beth-peor's height, Out of his rocky cyrie,
Looked on the wondrous sight; Perchance the lion, stalking,
Still shuns the hallowed spot: For beast and bird have seen and heard
That which man knoweth not.
5. Lo when the warrior dieth,
His comrades in the war,