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Coleridge, Stephen

"The Glory of English Prose Letters to My Grandson"

, all covered with iron; Philip, the
Conqueror; Louis IX., who alone is surrounded with light: they
stand in a widening, interminable procession, this great crowd of
kings; they loose their armour, they take their ermine on, they
are accompanied by their captains and their marshals; at last, in
their attitude and in their magnificence they sum up in themselves
the pride and the achievement of the French nation.
"But Time has dissipated what it could not tarnish, and the
process of a thousand years has turned these mighty figures into
unsubstantial things. You may see them in the grey end of
darkness, like a pageant, all standing still. You look again, but
with the growing light, and with the wind that rises before
morning, they have disappeared."
* * * * *
"There is a legend among the peasants in Russia of a certain
sombre, mounted figure, unreal, only an outline and a cloud, that
passed away to Asia, to the east and to the north. They saw him
move along their snows, through the long mysterious twilights of
the northern autumn, in silence, with the head bent and the reins
in the left hand loose, following some enduring purpose, reaching
towards an ancient solitude and repose.


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