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When 'mid Iona's wrecks meanwhile
O'er sculptured graves I trod,
I hailed the eternal God :
Than where Iona's cross rose o'er the western wave. Mr. Sotheby's translation of the “Iliad' was published in 1831, and was generally esteemed spirited and faithful. The ‘Odyssey' he completed in the following year. He died on the 30th of December 1833. The original poetical productions of Mr. Sotheby have not been reprinted; his translations are the chief source of his reputation. Wieland, it is said, was charmed with the genius of his translator; and the rich beauty of diction in the 'Oberon,' and its facility of versification, notwithstanding the restraints imposed by a difficult measure, were eulogised by the critics. In his tragedies, Mr. Sotheby displays considerable warmth of passion and figurative language, but his plots are ill constructed. Byron said of Mr. Sotheby, that he imitated everybody, and occasionally surpassed his models. Approach of Saul and his Guards against the Philistines
Hark! hark! the clash and clang
Arrayed; save on their shields of solid ore,
EDWARD, LORD THURLOW. EDWARD HOVELL THURLOW, Lord Thurlow (1781–1829), published several small volumes of poetry: 'Select Poems' (1821); 'Poems on Several Occasions;' ‘Angelica, or the Fate of Proteus; 'Arcita and Palamon, after Chaucer;' &c. Amidst much affectation and bad taste, there is real poetry in the works of this nobleman. He was a source of ridicule and sarcasm to wits and reviewers—including Moore and Byron-and not undeservedly; yet in pieces like the following, there is a freshness of fancy and feeling, and a richness of expression, that resembles Herrick or Moore:
Song to May.
Thou hast thy miglity herds,
Tame, and free livers ;
Doubt not, thy music too
In the deep rivers ;
And the whole plumy flight, Blown in the open mead ?
Warbling the day and night-
Up at the gates of light,
See, the lark quivers !
When with the jacinth
Coy fountains are tressed;
And for the mournful bird
Greenwoods are dressed,
That did for Tereus pine; Songsters that thee adore,
Then shall our songs be thine,
To whom our hearts incline:
May, be thou blest !
The skies are bright wit azure and with gold;
The mavis, and the nightingale, by turns,
Amid the woods a soft enchantment hold:
Their tender leaves unto the air have spread ;
Doth softly fly, and a light fragrance shed:
The angels on the golden banks recline,
Hath sprinkled her ambrosial sweets divine.
And light'st the hill of Hastings with thy ray,
How hold with fond imagination play!
When Harold on the bleeding verdure lay,
And fallen by his fate from kingly sway!
Torn banners and the dying steeds you shone,
And all, but honour, to the foe were gone!
But, dying, lay amid his Norman foes ! Charles Lamb, in a communication to the ‘London Magazine,' says of Lord Thurlow: 'A profusion of verbal dainties, with a disproportionate lack of matter and circumstance, is, I think one reason of the coldness with which the public has received the poetry of a nobleman now living; which, upon the score of exquisite diction alone, is entitled to something better than neglect. I will venture to copy one of his sonnets in this place, which for quiet sweetness, and unaffected morality, has scarcely its parallel in our language.' To a Bird that haunted the Waters of Lacken in the Winter
O melancholy bird, a winter's day
A rare union of wit and sensibility, of brilliant fancy and of varied and diligent study, is exemplified in the poetical works of THOMAS
MOORE. Mr. Moore was a native of Dublin, born on the 28th of May 1779. He early began to rhyme, and a sonnet to his schoolmaster, Mr. Samuel Whyte, written in nis fourteenth year, was published in a Dublin magazine, * to which he contributed other pieces. The parents of our poet were Roman Catholics, a body then proscribed and depressed by penal enactments, and they seem to have been of the number who, to use his own words, hailed the first dazzling outbreak of the French Revolution as a signal to the slave, wherever suffering, that the day of his deliverance was near at hand. The poet states that in 1792 he was taken by his father to one of the dinners given in honour of that great event, and sat upon the knee of the chairman while the following toast was enthusiastically sent round: ‘May the breezes from France fan our Irish Oak into verdure.' Parliament having, in 1793, opened the university to Catholics, young Moore was sent to college, and distinguished himself by his classical acquirements. In 1799, he proceeded to London to study law in the Middle Temple, and publish by subcription a translation of Anacreon. The latter appeared in the following year, dedicated to the Prince of Wales. At a subsequent period Mr. Moore was among the keenest satirists of this prince, for which he has been accused of ingratitude; but he states himself that the whole amount of his obligations to his royal highness was the honour of dining twice at Carlton House, and being admitted to a great fete given by the prince in 1811 on his being made regent. In 1801, Moore ventured on a volume of original verse, put forth under the assumed name of • Thomas Little’-an allusion to his diminutive stature. In these pieces the warmth of the young poet's feelings and imagination led him to trespass on delicacy and decorum. He had the good sense to be ashamed of these amatory juvenilia, and genius enough to redeem the fault. His offence did not stand in the way of his preferment. In 1803 Mr. Moore obtained an official situation at Bermuda, the duties of which were discharged by a deputy; and this subordinate proving unfaithful, the poet suffered pecuniary losses and great embarrassment. Its first effect however, was two volumes of poetry, a series of 'Odes and Epistles,' published in 1806, and written during an absence of fourteen months from Europe, while the author visited Bermuda. The descriptive sketches in this work are remarkable for their fidelity, no less than their poetical beauty. The style of Moore was now formed, and in all his writings there was nothing finer than the opening epistle to Lord Strangford, written on board ship by moonlight:
Mr. Whyte was also the teacher of Sheridan, and it is curious to learn that, after about a year's trial. Sherry was pronounced, both by tutor and parent, to be an incorri. gible dunce! "At the time.' says Mr. Moore, when I first began to attend his school. Mr. Whyte still continued to the no small alarm of many parents, to encourage a taste for acting among his pupils. In this line I was long his favourite shou-scholar; and among the play-bills introduced in bis volume, to illustrate the occasions of his own prologues and epilogues, there is one of a play got up in the year 1790, at Lady Borrowes's private theatre in Dublin. where. among the items of the evening's entertainment, is “An Epilogue, A Squeeze to St. Paul's, Master Moore."
A Moonlight Scene at Sea. Sweet moon! if, like Crotona's sage, And lights them with consoling, gleam, By any spell my hand could dare
And smiles them into tranquil sleep. To make thy disk its ample page,
Oh! such a blessed night as this And write my thougats, my wishes I often think, if friends were near, there;
How should we feel, and gaze with bliss How many a friend, whose careless eye Upon the moon-bright scenery here ! Now wanders o'er that starry sky, The sea is like a silvery lake, Should smile, upon thy orb to meet
And o'er its calm the vessel glides The recollection kind and sweet,
Gently, as if it feared to wake The reveries of fond regret,
The slumber of the silent tides! The promise never to forget,
The only envious cloud that lowers, And all my heart and soul would send Hath hung its shade on Pico's height, To many a dear-loved, distant friend. . Where dimly 'mid the dusk he towers, Even now, delusive hope will steal
And, scowling at this heaven of light, Amid the dark regrets I feel,
Exults to see the infant storm
Cling darkly round his giant form!
Canadian Boat Song.
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past. Mr. Moore now became a satirist, attempting first the grave serious style, in which he failed, but succeeding beyond almost any other poet in light satire, verses on the topics of the day, lively and pungent, with abundance of humorous and witty illustration. The man of the world, the scholar, and the poetical artist are happily blended in his satirical productions, with a rich and playful fancy. His * Twopenny Postbag,' •The Fudge Family in Paris,' • Fables for the Holy Alliance,' and numerous small pieces written for the newspapers, to serve the cause of the Whig or Liberal party, are not excelled in their own peculiar walk by any satirical composition in the language. It is difficult to select a specimen of these; but the following contains a proportion of the wit and poignancy distributed over all
. It appeared at a time when an abundance of mawkish reminiscences and memoirs had been showered from the press.