is son Charles to one of the daughters of Spain, with her immense
fortune) this weak monarch was urged to sacrifice the life of Raleigh.

Within one's own memory, it is painful to reflect, on the many pleasant
fields, neat paddocks, rural walks, and gardens, (breathing pure air)
that surrounded this metropolis for miles, and miles, and which are now
ill exchanged for an immense number of new streets, many of them the
receptacles only of smoke and unhealthiness.

[37] These lines are from him, at whose death (says Sir W. Scott in his
generous and glowing eulogy) we were stunned "by one of those
death-notes which are peeled at intervals, as from an archangel's
trumpet"--they are from "that mighty genius which walked amongst men as
something superior to ordinary mortality, and whose powers were beheld
with wonder, and something approaching to terror, as if we knew not
whether they were of good or evil"--they are from "that noble tree which
will never more bear fruit, or blossom! which has been cut down in its
strength, and the past is all that remains to us of Byron: whose
excellences will _now_ be universally acknowledged, and his faults (let
us hope and believe) not remembered in his epitaph." His "deep
transported mind" (to apply Milton's words to him) thus continues his
moralization:--

What are the hopes of man? old Egypt's king
CHEOPS, erected the first pyramid,
And largest; thinking it was just the thing
To keep his memory whole, and mummy hid;

But somebody or other rummaging,
Burglariously broke his coffin's lid:
Let not a monument give you, or me, hopes,
Since not a pinch of dust remains of CHEOPS.

The Quarterly Review, in reviewing Light's Travels, observes, that
"Cheops employed three hundred and sixty thousand of his subjects for
twenty years in raising this pyramid, or pile of stones, equal in weight
to six millions of tons; and to render his precious dust more secure,
the narrow chamber was made accessible only by small intricate passages,
obstructed by stones of an enormous weight, and so carefully closed,
externally, as not to be perceptible. Yet how vain are all the
precautions of man! Not a bone was left of Cheops, either in the stone
coffin, or in the vault, when Shaw entered the gloomy chamber." Sir
Walter Scott himself, has justly received many eulogies. Perhaps none
more heart-felt, than the effusion delivered at a late Celtic meeting,
by that eloquent and ho