He made him a hut, wherein he did put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
O poor Robinson read more

He made him a hut, wherein he did put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
O poor Robinson Crusoe!

To extend our memories by monuments, whose death we daily pray
for, and whose duration we cannot hope, without read more

To extend our memories by monuments, whose death we daily pray
for, and whose duration we cannot hope, without injury to our
expectations in the advent of the last day, were a contradiction
to our belief.

Towers of silence.

Towers of silence.

Gold once out of the earth is no more due unto it; what was
unreasonably committed to the ground, read more

Gold once out of the earth is no more due unto it; what was
unreasonably committed to the ground, is reasonably resumed from
it; let monuments and rich fabricks, not riches, adorn men's
ashes.

If we work upon marble it will perish. If we work upon brass
time will efface it. If we read more

If we work upon marble it will perish. If we work upon brass
time will efface it. If we rear temples they will crumble to
dust. But if we work upon men's immortal minds, if we imbue them
with high principles, with the just fear of God and love of their
fellow men, we engrave on those tablets something which no time
can efface, and which will brighten and brighten to all eternity.

Marble statues, engraved with public inscriptions, by which the
life and soul return after death to noble leaders.
read more

Marble statues, engraved with public inscriptions, by which the
life and soul return after death to noble leaders.
[Lat., Incisa notis marmora publicis,
Per quae spiritus et vita redit bonis
Post mortem ducibus.]

Let it rise! let it rise, till it meet the sum in his coming;
let the earliest light of read more

Let it rise! let it rise, till it meet the sum in his coming;
let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and the parting
day linger and play on its summit.

You shall not pile, with servile toil,
Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common read more

You shall not pile, with servile toil,
Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common soil
Lay down the wreck of power to rest,
Where man can boast that he has trod
On him that was "the scourge of God."

The need has gone; the memorial thereof remains.
[Lat., Factum abiit; monumenta manent.]

The need has gone; the memorial thereof remains.
[Lat., Factum abiit; monumenta manent.]