ce alone.
George Eliot's strong accentuation of the race is the Gospel of
annihilation to the individual. Yet the most personal and imaginative
of poets has treated this lofty altruism in his strange, sad,
beautiful poem of "The Pilgrims," with a fervour greater even than
that of George Eliot.

Here are two stanzas:

"And ye shall die before your thrones be won.
Yea, and the changed world and the liberal sun
Shall move and shine without us and we lie
Dead; but if she too move on earth and live,
But if the old world with the old irons rent,
Laugh and give thanks, shall we not be content?
Nay we shall rather live, we shall not die,
Life being so little and Death so good to give."

"Pass on then and pass by us, and let us be.
For what life think ye after life to see?
And if the world fare better will ye know?
And if men triumph, who shall seek you and say?"

"Enough of light is this for one life's span.
That all men born are mortal, but not Man:
And we men bring death lives by night to sow,
That man may reap and eat and live by day."
--SWINBURNE.

Turning from the moral grandeur of self-abnegation that fills the
philosophy of humanity, we feel the contrast of strong human
personality, which animates us with an inspiring sensation as we
listen to the prophet of individualism.

Few can have read Carlyle's writings in their youth, without having
experienced an indescribable and irresistible stimulation, to
accomplish some real work, to make some strenuous endeavour "before
the night cometh." Carlyle's contempt for sloth, stings; his bitter
words are a tonic, they scourge, encourage, and at times plead with
poetic fervour. "Think of living. Thy life wert thou the pitifullest
of all the sons of earth is no idle dream, but a solemn reality. _It
is thy own; it is all thou hast to front Eternity with._ Work then
like a star unhasting and unresting."

The man's soul, naked through sloth, or clothed through works, has to
meet its doom, and to bear it as it best can. For Carlyle ignored the
collective view of mankind, the single soul had to prostrate itself
before the Supreme Power. This Supreme Power was almost as vague (to
him) as George Eliot's Permanent Influence is to us. For Carlyle did
not believe "that the Soul could enter into any relations with God,
and in the sight of God it was nothing." There is nothing singular in
this. The relig