Quote #3

Oh! wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the north, With your hands and your feet and your raiment all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout? And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?

More from Thomas Babington Macaulay

  1. Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme today the helmet of Navarre.
  2. Soon fades the spell, soon comes the night; Say will it not be then the same, Whether we played the black or white, Whether we lost or won …
  3. The great cause of revolutions is this, that while nations move onward, constitutions stand still.
  4. Out of his surname they have coined an epithet for a knave, and out of his Christian name a synonym for the Devil.
  5. Nothing is so useless as a general maxim.
  6. The gallery in which the reporters sit has become a fourth estate of the realm.
  7. Intoxicated with animosity.
  8. I have not the Chancellor's encyclopedic mind. He is indeed a kind of semi-Solomon. He half knows everything, from the cedar to the hyssop.

All Thomas Babington Macaulay quotes