en Lee had been just two months dead; but, three-quarters of a century after the protector's skull had been removed from over the roof of Westminster Hall, Pope wrote, in similar spirit—
See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame; and, sixteen years later,—four-fifths of a century after Cromwell's disentombment at Westminster and reburial at Tyburn,—period from the death of Lee equal to that which will have elapsed in 1950, Gray sang of the Stoke Pogis churchyard—
Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.
And now, a century and a half later, Cromwell's statue looms defiantly up in front of the Parliament House.
When, therefore, an appeal is in such cases made to the avenging pen of History, it is well to bear this instance in mind, while recalling, perchance, that other line of a greater than Pope, or Gray, or Sumner—
Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
Was then Robert E. Lee a traitor—was he also