V. 24. LINES RELATING TO CURRAN'S DAUGHTER. SH hero sleeps, HE is far from the land where her young 2. She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains, 3. He had lived for his love-for his country he died; 4. Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the west, From her own loved island of sorrow. THOMAS MOORE. THOMAS MOORE, the poet, was born in Dublin, in 1780. He showed from boy. hood an imaginative and musical turn; and various circumstances combined in impressing him early with that deep sense of the wrongs and sufferings of Ireland to which his poetry owes so many of its most powerful touches. He was educated at Trinity College, where he took his degree in 1798, after which he went to London to keep his terms for the bar. Poetry however had taken possession of his mind; and his gay translation of Anacreon was published in 1800. In 1804, having obtained a registrarship in Bermuda, he went out to discharge the duties of the office. It proved much less lucrative than he expected; and in a few months he returned home, from which time his course of life was very uneventful. In 1811 he married Miss Dyke, an amiable, attractive, and domestic lady. He soon after established himself permanently at Sloperton, near Devizes, visiting London, however, frequently, and making other excursions. In 1835 he received from government a pension of £300 a year; and in 1850, when his health was completely broken, Mrs. Moore obtained a pension of a hundred pounds. He died in the beginning of 1852. Of his serious poems, "Irish Melodies," and "Lalla Rookh" best support his fame. Many pieces of the former are exquisite for grace of diction, for beauty, and for a refined and ideal kind of pathos. The latter evinces great skill and care of execution, with marvelous richness of fancy, and singular correctness of costume, and establishes his claim to an important place among the great painters of romantic narrative. Moore's political satires, perhaps, show his genius in a more brilliant light than any of his other works. Of his prose writings, the most noted and worthy is the gor geous romance of "The Epicurean," which appeared in 1827. Ο NE more unfortunate, Weary of breath, Rashly importunate,' Gone to her death! Lift her with care! Look at her garments, Touch her not scornfully! Gently and humanly- 4. Make no deep scrutiny, Into her mutiny, Rash and undutiful; Past all dishonor, Death has left on her Only the beautiful. 5. Still, for all slips of hers- Im port' u nate, over-pressing in request or demand; troublesomely urgent. Wipe those poor lips of hers, Escaped from the comb- 6. Who was her father? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other? 7. Alas! for the rărity Under the sun! Sisterly, brotherly, Feelings had changed- Where the lamps quiver "Cēre' ment, cloth dipped in melted wax, and wrapped about dead bodies previous to embalming. With many a light From window and casement, 10. The bleak, wind of March Or the black, flowing river: Swift to be hurled- 11, In she plunged boldly— 12. Ere her limbs, frigidly, Decently, kindly, Dreadfully staring Through muddy impurity, Pěrishing gloomily, Cross her hands humbly, And leaving with meekness THOMAS HOOD, humorist and poet, was born at London, in 1798. The best incident of his early boyhood was his instruction by a schoolmaster who appreciated his talents, and was so interested in teaching as to render it impossible not to interest his pupil. At this period he earned his first fee-a few guineas— by revising for the press a new edition of "Paul and Virginia." In his fifteenth year, after receiving a miscellaneous education, he was placed in the countinghouse of a Russian merchant; but, soon after learned the art of engraving. In 1821, having already written fugitive papers for periodicals, he became subeditor of the "London Magazine," a position which at once introduced him to the best literary society of the time. Odes and Addresses" soon after appear. ed. "Whims and Oddities," "National Tales," "Tylney Hall," a novel, and "The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies," followed. In these, the humorous fac " 1 Cŏn' tu mẽ lý, rudeness or reproach compounded of haughtiness and contempt; despiteful treatment. ulty not only predominated, but expressed itself with a freshness, originality, and power, which the poetical element could not claim. There was, however, much true poetry in the verse, and much sound sense and keen observation in the prose of these works. After publishing several annuals, he started a magazine in his own name. Though aided by men of reputation and authority, this work, which he conducted with surprising energy, was mainly sustained by his own intellectual activity. At this time, confined to a sick-bed, from which he never rose, in his anxiety to provide for his wife and children, he composed those poems, too few in number, but immortal in the English language, such as the "Song of the Shirt," the "Song of the Laborer," and the "Bridge of Sighs." His death occurred on the 3d of May, 1845. L I. SUCCESSION OF HUMAN BEINGS. IKE leaves on trees the life of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies, They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those have passed away. II. DEATH OF THE YOUNG AND FAIR. She died in beauty, like a rose blown from its parent stem ; III. A LADY DROWNED.-PROCTER. Is she dead?... Why so shall I be, -ere these autumn blasts Have blown on the beard of Winter. Is she dead? Ay, she is dead,-quite dead! The wild Sea kissed her And never turns her head or knows 'tis morning! IV. LIFE OF MAN.-BEAUMONT. Like to the falling of a star, Or as the flights of eagles are, Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue, V. CORONACH.1-SCOTT. He is gone on the mountain, he is lost to the forèst, 4 ‹ Red hand in the foray, how sound is thy slumber! Like the dew on the mountain, like the fam on the river, "Man, thou shalt never die!" Celestial voices O listen, ye our spirits! drink it in From all the air! 'Tis in the gentle moonlight; › Coronach, (kõr′ o nak), a song of lamentation; a lament. Correi, (kor rå), the side of a hill where game usually lies. › Căm′ber, perplexity; distress. Fō rāy, a sudden pillaging incursion in peace or war. 'Sā' ble, dark; black. |