...
Leaving this interesting tomb behind me, I took a pathway to the left,
which conducted me up the hill-side. I soon found myself in the deep shade
of heavy foliage, where the branches of the yew and willow mingled,
interwoven with the tendrils and blossoms of the honeysuckle. I now stood
in the most populous part of this city of tombs. Every step awakened a new
train of thrilling recollections; for at every step my eye caught the name
of some one whose glory had exalted the character of his native land, and
resounded across the waters of the Atlantic. Philosophers, historians,
musicians, warriors, and poets slept side by side around me; some beneath
the gorgeous monument, and some beneath the simple headstone. But the
political intrigue, the dream of science, the historical research, the
ravishing harmony of sound, the tried courage, the inspiration of the
lyre--where are they? With the living, and not with the dead! The right
hand has lost its cunning in the grave; but the soul, whose high volitions
it obeyed, still lives to reproduce itself in ages yet to come.
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