He has not been in public life all these years without rubbing shoulders with plenty of baseness on every scale, and plenty of pettiness in every hue, but he has always kept his eyes well above it.
Morley acknowledges G.'s extensive experience in public life, noting his ability to rise above baseness and pettiness.
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But they were barren of any institutions by which the country could be governed and kept in prosperity for the future.”(166) This is a statement of the case that biographer and historian alike should ponder.
But the Poet Laureate has written his own song on the hearts of his countrymen that can never die.
There lay Ireland,—squalid, dismal, sullen, dull, expectant, sunk deep in hostile intent.
This was a complete falsification of a whole set of our national promises.
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