ABSTRACT
There is no such thing as Antiquity in the ordinary acceptation we affix to the term. Whatever is or has been, while it is passing, must be modern. The early ages may have been barbarous in themselves; but they have become ancient with the slow and silent lapse of successive generations. The 'olden times' are only such in reference to us. The past is rendered strange, mysterious, visionary, awful, from the great gap in time that parts us from it, and the long perspective of waning years. Things gone by and almost forgotten, look dim and dull, uncouth and quaint, from our ignorance of them, and the mutability of customs. But in their day - they were fresh, unimpaired, in full vigour, familiar, and glossy. The Children in the Wood, and Percy's Relics, were once recent productions; and Auld Robin Gray1 was, in his time, a very common-place / old fellow! The wars of York and Lancaster, while they lasted, were 'lively, audible, and full of vent,'2 as fresh and lusty as the white and red roses that distinguished their different banners, though they have since become a bye-word and a solecism in history.
