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# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Stothard’s Erato

Literary Gazette, 9th August 1823, Page 507
ORIGINAL POETRY. POETICAL CATALOGUE OF PICTURES. STOTHARD'S ERATO.
Gentlest one, I bow to thee,
Rose-lipp'd queen of poesy,
Sweet Erato, thou whose chords
Waken but for love-touched words!
Never other crown be mine
Than a flower-linked wreath of thine:
Green leaves of the laurel tree
Are for Bards of high degree;
Better rose or violet suit
With thy votary's softer lute.
Not thine those proud lines that tell
How kings ruled, or heroes fell;
But that low and honey tone
So peculiarly Love's own;
Music such as the night breeze
Wakens from the willow trees;
Such as murmurs from the shell,
Wave-kissed in some ocean cell;
Tales sweet as the breath of flowers,
Such as in the twilight hours
The young Bard breathes; and also thine
Those old memories divine,
Fables Grecian poets sung
When on Beauty's lips they hung,
Till the essenced song became
Like that kiss, half dew, half flame.
Thine each frail and lovely thing,
The first blossoms of the spring:
Violets, ere the sun ray
Drinks their fragrant life away;
Roses, ere their crimson breast
Throws aside its green moss vest;
Young hearts, or ere toil, or care,
Or gold, has left a sully there.
Thine, too, other gifts above,
Every sign and shape of love,
Its first smile, and its first sigh,
Its hope, its despondency,
Its joy, its sorrow, all belong
To thy so delicious song.
Fair Erato, vowed to thee,
If a lute like mine may be
Offered at thy myrtle shrine,
Lute and heart and song are thine.
Broken be my treasured lute,
Be its every number mute,
Ere a single chord should waken,
By thee or by Love forsaken.
Gentlest one, I bow to thee,
Rose-lipp'd queen of poesy!L.E.L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Songs 6

Literary Gazette 11th October 1823, Page 650
SONGS.
Beautiful are the hues that lie
 On that Indian bird's blue wing,
With his rainbow crest and soft black eye,
 And neck like the rose of spring.
Love's fond fancies are quickly caught
 By links love only can see;
But too much truth there was in the thought
 That likened that bird to thee.
To each all outward gifts belong,
 But each wants the inward part:
That fair bird has not the sweet gift of song,
 And you—oh, you want a heart!
Last night, a fairy bark, for Hope,
 That lily floated o'er the wave,
Which now curls round the scattered leaves,
 Kissing the flower it cannot save.
A sweet hymn to the setting sun
 Came yesterday from that white thorn;
But no song welcomes his return,
 The shade is bare, the nest is torn.
What can have made so desolate
 What was last night so very fair?
Were I to judge by my own heart,
 I should but say Love had been there.—L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Sta Valerie

Literary Gazette, 4th January, 1823, Page 12
ORIGINAL POETRY.
FRAGMENTS IN RHYME.
XII.—Sta. Valerie.
Raised on the rocky barriers of the sea,
Stands thy dark convent, fair St. Valerie!
Lone like an eagle's nest; the pine-trees tall
Throw their long shadows on the heavy wall,
Where never sound is heard, save the wild sweep
Of mountain-waters rushing to the deep,
The tempest's midnight-song, the battle-cry
Of warring winds, like armies met on high,
And in a silent hour the convent chime,
And sometimes, at the quiet evening time
A vesper song—those tones, so pure, so sweet,
When airs of earth and words of heaven do meet!
Sad is the legend of that young Saint's doom!
When the Spring Rose was in its May of bloom,
The storm was darkening; at that sweet hour
When hands beloved had reared her nuptial bower,
The pestilence came o'er the land, and he,
 With whom her heart was, died that very morn— Her bridal morn! Alas, that there should be
 Such evils ever for affection born!
She shrank away from earth, and solitude
 Is the sole refuse for the heart's worst pain;
Life had no ties,—she turned her unto heaven,
 And on the steep rock reared her holy fane.
It has an air of sadness, as just meet
For the so broken heart's last lone retreat!— A portrait here has still preserved each charm:
I saw it one bright evening, when the warm
Last glow of sunset shed its crimson ray
Over the lovely image. She was fair
As those most radiant spirits of the air
Whose life is amid flowers; like the day,
The golden summer day, her glossy hair
Fell o'er a brow of Indian ivory;
Her check was pale, and in her large dark eye
There was a thought of sorrow, and her brow
Upon one small snow hand leant pensively,
As if to hide her tears—the other prest
A silver crucifix upon her breast.
I ne'er saw sadness touching as in thee
And thy lorn look, oh fair St. Valerie!
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Stanzas 1

Literary Gazette, 24th May 1823, Page 332-333
ORIGINAL POETRY. STANZAS.
Twine not those red roses for me,—
Darker and sadder my wreath must be;
Mine is of flowers unkissed by the sun,
Flowers which died as the Spring begun.
The blighted leaf and the cankered stem
Are what should form my diadem.
Take that rose—it is nipt by the blast;
That lily—the blight has over it past;
That peach-bud—a worm has gnawed it away;
Those violets—they were culled yesterday:
Bind them with leaves from the dark yew tree,
Then come and offer the wreath to me.
Let every flower be a flower of Spring,
But on each be a sign of withering;
Suited to me is the drooping wreath,
With colourless hues and scentless breath;
Seek ye not buds of brighter bloom,
Why should their beauty waste on the tomb?
I am too young for death, you say:
Fall not and fade not the green leaves in May?
Does not the rose in its light depart?
Needs there long life to break the heart?
I have felt the breath of the deadly power,—
My summons is come, and I know mine hour!
There came a voice to my sleeping ear,
With words of sorrow and words of fear,
Its sound was the roll of the mountain wave,
Its breath was damp as an opening grave;
My heart grew colder at every word,
For I knew 'twas the voice of Death I heard!
It summoned me, and I wept to die,—
Oh, fair is life to the youthful eye!
Time may come with his shadowy wing,
But who can think on Autumn in Spring?
With so much of hope, and of light, and of bloom,
Marvel ye that I shrunk from my doom?
My tears are past,—the grave will be
Like a home and a haven, welcome to me!
I have marked the fairest of hopes decay,
Have seen love pass like a cloud away,
Seen bloom and sweet feelings waste to a sigh,
Till my heart has sickened and wished to die.
Falling to earth like a shower of light,
Yon ash tree is losing its blossoms of white;
Ere its green berries are coloured with red,
I shall be numbered amid the dead.
The buds that are falling in dust will lie
A prey for the worms, and soon so shall I!
Be my tomb in the green grass made,
There let no white tombstone be laid;
All my monument shall be
A lonely and bending cypress tree,
Drooping—just such as should lean above
One who lived and who died for love!
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Stanzas 3

Literary Gazette 8th November 1823, Page 719
STANZAS.
We shall not meet again, love,
 As we once met;
But our meetings have left
 What I may not forget:
A thought of the past,
 Like a ghost by a tomb,
A heart that is burning,
 A cheek without bloom.
As those who have dwelt
 In the lands of the Sun,
In the north fade and fall
 When the Winter 's begun;
So my spirit, whose life
 Was Love's passionate ray,
Must pine unto death
 When its warmth fades away!—L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Songs 4 3

Literary Gazette, 2nd August 1823, Page 490
I envy thee, thou careless wind!
 How light, how wild thy wandering:
Thou hast no earthly chain, to bind
 One fetter on thy airy wing.
The flower's first sigh of blossoming,
 The soft harp's note, the woodlark's song,
All unto thee their treasures bring,
 All to thy fairy reign belong.
Thy wing o'er the green ocean roves,
 An echo to the sea-maid's lay,
Then over rose and orange groves
 Bearing their sweetest breath away;
Then through the paths of the blue day,
 Earth and earth's griefs left far behind,
To seek mid clouds a sphere more gay,—
 I envy thee, thou careless wind!—L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/The Hours

Literary Gazette, 3rd May 1823, Page 285
SIR JOHN LEICESTER'S GALLERY.
This delightful lounge was so crowded on Monday that we could hardly see the beauties of Art for the beauties of Nature (we do not include gentlemen—especially lusty gentlemen.) The sight was altogether very gratifying, because very British and national. Next Monday is the last day—we mean, for opening this mansion so richly adorned with the productions of Native talent.
Literary Gazette, 3rd May 1823, Page 286
[Sketched from Sir John Leicester's Gallery] The Hours, by Howard.
Wouldst thou know what life should be?
 Were it mine but to decree
 What its path should be for Thee?
Look upon those sister powers,
Chained, but only chained with flowers,—
That bright group of rose-winged Hours:
 Sunny ones, whose beauty seems
 Just made for the rainbow gleams
 Of Fancy or of Pleasure's dreams;
Softer ones, whose shadows suit
With the Maiden stealing mute,
Guided by her Lover's lute.
 But all lovely, and all bright,
 Smiles of hope and plumes of light,—
 Happiness is in their flight.
Oh, if fond love could decree
Hours of life, just such should be,
Or fairer yet, the Hours for Thee!
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 1/Letter 67

To HENRY EDGEWORTH, IN LONDON.
PAKENHAM HALL,
Christmas Day, 1807.
A Merry Christmas to you, my dear Henry and Sneyd! I wish you were here at this instant, and you would be sure of one; for this is really the most agreeable family and the pleasantest and most comfortable castle I ever was in.
We came here yesterday—the we being Mr. and Mrs. Edgeworth, Honora, and me. A few minutes after we came, arrived Hercules Pakenham—the first time he had met his family since his return from Copenhagen. My father has scarcely ever quitted his elbow since he came, and has been all ear and no tongue.
Lady Wellesley was prevented by engagements from joining this party at Pakenham Hall; both the Duke and Duchess of Richmond are so fond of her as no tongue can tell. The Duke must have a real friendship for Sir Arthur; for while he was at Copenhagen his Grace did all the business of his office for him.
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 1/Letter 72

MARIA EDGEWORTH to MISS RUXTON.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, June 1809.
A copy of Tales of Fashionable Life reached us yesterday in a Foster frank: they looked well enough,—not very good paper, but better than Popular Tales. I am going to write a story called "To-day," as a match for "To-morrow," in which I mean to show that Impatience is as bad as Procrastination, and the desire to do too much to-day, and to enjoy too much at present, is as bad as putting off everything till to-morrow. What do you think of this plan? Write next post, as, while my father is away, I am going to write a story for his birthday. My other plan was to write a story in which young men of all the different professions should act a part, like the "Contrast" in higher life, or the "Freeman Family," only without princes, and without any possible allusion to our own family. I have another sub-plan of writing "Coelebina in search of a Husband," without my father's knowing it, and without reading Coelebs, that I may neither imitate nor abuse it.
I daresay you can borrow Powell's Sermons from Ardbraccan or Dr. Beaufort; the Primate lent them to my father. There is a charge on the connection between merit and preferment, and one discourse on the influence of academical studies and a recluse life, which I particularly admire, and wish it had been quoted in Professional Education.
Mr. Holland, a grand-nephew of Mr. Wedgwood's, and son to a surgeon at Knutsford, Cheshire, and intended for a physician, came here in the course of a pedestrian tour—spent two days—very well informed. Ask my mother when she goes to you to tell you all that Mr. Holland told us about Mr. and Mrs. Barbauld and Mrs. Marcet, who is the author of Conversations on Chemistry—a charming woman, by his account.

## Footnotes

* ↑ The first set containing "Ennui," "Madame de Fleury," "Almeria," "The Dun," and "Manoeuvring," in three volumes.
* ↑ Never written.
* ↑ "Patronage."
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 1/Letter 64

To MISS SOPHY RUXTON.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, July 12, 1806.
This is the third sheet of paper in the smallest hand I could write I have had the honour within these three days to spoil in your service, stuffed full of geological and chemical facts, which we learned from our two philosophical travellers, Davy and Greenough; but when finished I persuaded myself they were not worth sending. Many of the facts I find you have in Thomson and Nicholson, which, "owing to my ignorance," as poor Sir Hugh Tyrold would say, "I did not rightly know."
Our travellers have just left us, and my head is in great danger of bursting from the multifarious treasures that have been stowed and crammed into it in the course of one week. Mr. Davy is wonderfully improved since you saw him at Bristol: he has an amazing fund of knowledge upon all subjects, and a great deal of genius. Mr. Greenough has not, at first sight, a very intelligent countenance, yet he is very intelligent, and has a good deal of literature and anecdote, foreign and domestic, and a taste for wit and humour. He has travelled a great deal, and relates well. Dr. Beddoes is much better, but my father does not think his health safe. I am very well, but shamefully idle: indeed, I have done nothing but hear; and if I had had a dozen pair extraordinary of ears, and as many heads, I do not think I could have heard or held all that was said.
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 1/Letter 66

To MRS. RUXTON.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Sept. 1807.
My beloved aunt and friend—friend to my least fancies as well as to my largest interests,—thank you for the six fine rose-trees, and thank you for the little darling double-flowering almond tree. Sneyd asked if there was nothing for him? so I very generously gave him the polyanthuses and planted them with my own hands at the corners of his garden pincushions.
Mr. Hammond may satisfy himself as to the union of commerce and literature by simply reading the history of the Medici, where commerce, literature, and the arts made one of the most splendid, useful, and powerful coalitions that ever were seen in modern times. Here is a fine sentence! Mr. Hammond once, when piqued by my raillery, declared that he never in his life saw, or could have conceived, till he saw me, that a philosopher could laugh so much and so heartily.
Enclosed I send a copy of an epitaph written by Louis XVIII., on the Abbé Edgeworth; I am sure the intention does honour to H.M. heart, and the critics here say the Latin does honour to H.M. head. William Beaufort, who sent it to my father, says the epitaph was communicated to him by a physician at Cork, who being a Roman Catholic of learning and foreign education, maintains a considerable correspondence in foreign countries.
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 1/Letter 68

To C. SNEYD EDGEWORTH, IN LONDON.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Jan. 1, 1808.
A Happy New Year to you, my dear Sneyd. It is so dark, I can hardly see to write, and it has been pouring such torrents of rain, hail, and snow, that I began to think, with John Langan, that the "old prophecies found in a bog" were all accomplishing, and that Slievegaulry was beginning to set out on its proposed journey. My mother has told you about these predictions, and the horror they have spread through the country entirely. The old woman who was the cause of the mischief is, I suppose, no bigger than a midge's wing, as she has never been found, though diligent search has been made for her. Almost all the people in this town sat up last night to receive the earthquake.
We have had the same physiognomical or character-telling fishes that you described to Honora. Captain Hercules Pakenham brought them from Denmark, where a Frenchman was selling them very cheap. Those we saw were pale green and bright purple. They are very curious: my father was struck with them as much, or more, than any of the children; for there are some wonders which strike in proportion to the knowledge, instead of the ignorance, of the beholders. Is it a leaf? Is it galvanic? What is it? I wish Henry would talk to Davy about it. The fish lay more quiet in my father's hand than could have been expected; only curled up their tails on my Aunt Mary's; tolerably quiet on my mother's; but they could not lie still one second on William's, and went up his sleeve, which I am told their German interpreters say is the worst sign they can give. My father suggested that the different degrees of dryness or moisture in the hands cause the emotions of these sensitive fish, but after drying our best, no change was perceptible. I thought the pulse was the cause of their motion, but this does not hold, because my pulse is slow, and my father's very quick. It was ingenious to make them in the shape of fish, because their motions exactly resemble the breathing, and panting, and floundering, and tail-curling of fish; and I am sure I have tired you with them, and you will be sick of these fish.

## Footnotes

* ↑ An old woman had, before Christmas, gone about the neighbourhood saying that, on New Year's Day, Slievegaulry, a little hill about five miles from Edgeworthstown, would come down with an earthquake, and settle on the village, destroying everything.
* ↑ It was afterwards ascertained that these conjuring fish had been brought from Japan by the Dutch, and were made of horn cut extremely thin. Their movements were occasioned, as Mr. Edgeworth supposed, from the warm moisture of the hand, but depended upon the manner in which they were placed. If the middle of the fish was made to touch the warmest part of the hand, it contracted, and set the head and tail in motion.
# Life And Letters Of Maria Edgeworth/Volume 1/Letter 65

To MISS RUXTON.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, Feb. 1807.
While Charlotte was pretty well we paid our long-promised visit to Coolure, and passed a few very pleasant days there. Admiral Pakenham is very entertaining, and appears very amiable in the midst of his children, who doat on him. He spoke very handsomely of your darling brother, and diverted us by the mode in which he congratulated Richard on his marriage: "I give you joy, my good friend, and I am impatient to see the woman who has made an honest man of you."
Colonel Edward Pakenham burned his instep by falling asleep before the fire, out of which a turf fell on his foot, and so he was, luckily for us, detained a few days longer and dined and breakfasted at Coolure. He is very agreeable, and unaffected, and modest, after all the flattery he has met with.

## Footnotes

* ↑ Charlotte Edgeworth, the idol and beauty of the family, died, after a long illness, 7th April 1807.
* ↑ Colonel, afterwards Sir Edward Pakenham, distinguished in the Peninsular War, fell in action at New Orleans, 8th January 1815.
# Letter to Richard Nixon 1973-10-11

* related portals: Letters.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This letter from then-House Minority Leader Gerald Ford to President Richard Nixon lists Ford’s recommendations to fill the Vice Presidential vacancy following Spiro Agnew’s resignation on October 10, 1973. Ford himself would eventually be chosen by Nixon to fill the vacancy.
October 11, 1973
Dear Mr. President:
On the basis of the criteria outlined by you at the meeting in your office I am recommending the following in the order of my preference:
* John Connally
* Mel Laird
* Nelson Rockefeller or Ronald Reagan
I will not go into the reasons for my views as I'm sure you are familiar with reasons in each instance.
You can rest assured that I will fully cooperate and assist in this and all other problems in the months ahead.
Warmest personal regards.
Sincerely,
Gerald R. Ford, M. C.
The President The White House
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Letter to Pope Pius IX by Jefferson Davis

This letter, from Davis to Pope Pius IX, was delivered to Rome by special envoy Ambrose Dudley Mann in 1863. Different versions of the text of this letter exist, perhaps due to being translated via French.
* "Jefferson Davis and Pope Pius IX" in The Rebellion Record, 7
* "Sept. 23, 1863: State Department to A. D. Mann" in Official Records of the Union and Confederate Navies, Series 2, 3
# John Catherine Mullen Benevolent Corporation v. United States

United States Supreme Court
290 U.S. 89
John Catherine Mullen Benevolent Corporation v. United States
Argued: Oct. 20, 1933. --- Decided: Nov 6, 1933
Messrs. Branch Bird and W. G. Bissell, both of Gooding, Idaho, for petitioner.
The Attorney General and Mr. Frank J. Wideman, Asst. Atty. Gen., for the United States.
Mr. Justice ROBERTS delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# John Delavoy

* "John Delavoy" in Cosmopolis 9 (January–February 1898):
** "John Delavoy" in Cosmopolis 9 (January 1898): 1–21.
** "John Delavoy" in Cosmopolis 9 (February 1898): 317–332.
    — First publication in any form
* "John Delavoy" in The Soft Side (London: Methuen & Co., 1900): 242–289.
    — First English book edition
* "John Delavoy" in The Soft Side (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1900): 202–241.
    — First American book edition
* "John Delavoy" in Lord Beaupré, The Visits, The Wheel of Time and Other Tales (London: Macmillan & Co., 1923): 353–400.
    — Volume 27 of The Novels and Stories of Henry James, the first posthumous collection of James' works; uses the first book edition text.
# Letter of Jan Hus to his friends in Bohemia (29 June 1415)

English-language translations of Přátelům svým v Čechách include:
* "Letter 51, To his Friends", in Letters of John Huss Written During His Exile and Imprisonment (1846), translated by John Campbell Mackenzie (only the first half of the letter)
** "Letter 56, To his faithful Friend Ledertz" (the second half of the letter)
* "Letter 82, To his Friends in Bohemia", in The letters of John Hus (1904), translated by Robert Martin Pope
* "To his friends in Bohemia" in The life & times of Master John Hus (1909), chapter 8, translated by František Lützow.
# Letter of Jan Hus to the "Father" (1)

The identity of the "Father" is not certain. Authors of the 1846 edition supposed it was John Cardinal of Reinstein, which is a mistake. Bohumil Mareš dated the letter after 8 June 1415 (Listy Husovy, 1911)
English-language translations of Otci include:
* "Letter 41, To John Cardinal", in Letters of John Huss Written During His Exile and Imprisonment (1846), translated by John Campbell Mackenzie
* "Letter 67, Master John Hus to the "Father"", in The letters of John Hus (1904), translated by Robert Martin Pope
# Letter of Jan Hus to the "Father" (2)

The identity of the "Father" is not certain. Bohumil Mareš dated the letter after 8 June 1415 (Listy Husovy, 1911)
English-language translations of Otci include:
* "Letter 46, To his Friends", in Letters of John Huss Written During His Exile and Imprisonment (1846), translated by John Campbell Mackenzie
* "Letter 68, Master John Hus to the "Father"", in The letters of John Hus (1904), translated by Robert Martin Pope
# Letter of Jan Hus to the Faithful Bohemians (16 November 1414)

English-language translations of Věrným Čechům include:
* "An Epistle of John Huss, unto the People of Prague⁠", in The Acts and Monuments of John Foxe, vol. 3 (1837), edited by Stephen Reed Cattley
* "Letter 7, To the people of Bohemia", in Letters of John Huss Written During His Exile and Imprisonment (1846), translated by John Campbell Mackenzie
* "Letter 39, To the Faithful Bohemians", in The letters of John Hus (1904), translated by Robert Martin Pope