But you wisely said there were two tribunals--the Public and Time.

You have still the last to appeal to.
Your great Italian historians wrote for the unborn--their works not even published till their death.

That indifference to living reputation has in it, to me, something of the sublime." "I cannot imitate them--and they were not poets," said Cesarini, sharply.

"To poets, praise is a necessary aliment; neglect is death." "My dear Signor Cesarini," said the Englishman, feelingly, "do not give way to these thoughts.

There ought to be in a healthful ambition the stubborn stuff of persevering longevity; it must live on, and hope for the day which comes slow or fast, to all whose labours deserve the goal." "But perhaps mine do not.