Identifier: argosythe48wood (find matches)
Title: The Argosy
Year: 1865 (1860s)
Authors: Wood, Henry, Mrs., 1814-1887 Wood, Charles W. (Charles William), b. 1850?
Subjects:
Publisher: London (etc.) R. Bentley (etc.)
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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knowledgeis to be increased and men shall run to and fro upon the earth; andit is all coming to pass. Yet the eternal decree. So far shalt thou go, will never be over-come. Each in his little world has his day, and then for him comeththe end. The elixir of life, this we shall never find; not even toadding an inch to ones stature or making one hair white or black.We are mortal, and each must pay the penalty and pass throughgrave and gate of death to the everlasting realms beyond the veil. Not only the cemeteries of Rome, but Rome itself is a vastmonument of the dead, holding up its eternal warning. For hercame the handwriting upon the wall: Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin :and we see the record on every side. In the halo surroundingRome sorrow and sadness are largely intermixed. Perhaps it is oneof her charms, for there are Pleasures of Melancholy quite as muchas there are Pleasures of Hope : and this element of regret pointsunconsciously to the day when sighing and sorrow shall flee away»
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o wo < H cn o wo Q 5 62 ^ Ecco Roma / Shakespeare himself might have stood on one of the seven hills, andgazing upon that matchless scene of departed glory, have writtenthe words, as Romes epitaph : The cloud-cappd towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea all which it inherit, shall dissolve ;And like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a wreck behind. We are such stuftAs dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep. But the life of Rome has been great and wonderful. Her sleephas been long, and her dream is eternal. So far she may well becalled the Eternal City. Though all traces of her former greatnessdisappeared; though her monuments were all desecrated until onestone was not left upon another; the outlines of the seven hills, theslow and silvery Tiber, the vast and melancholy Campagna, wouldbe sufficient until the end of time to plunge one into dreams of thepast, and visions of martial glory and worldly pomp and pageant

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