gained the admiration of foreign countries of a patriot, whose pure devotion to her interests has won the love of his own. I will give you," said his Lordship in conclusion, after pronouncing a very warm eulogium on Mr. Phillips, "The health of Mr. Phillips, and the Emerald Isle." This toast was drunk with three times three. After silence was in some degree restored, Mr. Phillips rose and returned thanks as follows: "Allow me, my Lord, most sincerely to thank you for this kind recollection of my name, and still more to thank you for the sentiment with which you have associated it. To have advocated, however feebly, that unfortunate Isle, has been my sole, but flattering distinction; and if, under much discouragement, she has still been dear to me, how must I feel now at seeing the heir of that patriot, who cheered her brightest hour, dispensing those honours so justly due to the poet who has illuminated her darkest. In Ireland's lifetime the noble and the bard were never disunited, and the Charlemonts of other days enjoyed, my Lord, as you do, their most distinguished repose beneath the laurels of their minstrel. May the omen be fulfilledmay the example be followed-may the resident nobility of the country at length promote the encouragement of its native genius. Oh! if they do, they may depend upon it, the advantage will be reciprocal-the beam which they shed will cause a reflection that must make both bright in the eyes of their descendants. The presence of Mr. Moore naturally restrains the expression in which I should otherwise have indulged myself. This, however, I cannot refrain from declaring. It is not for that genius, which bears the stamp of its celestial origin -which has re-strung the harp and rivalled the minstrelsy of the olden time'-which has, for us, realized the purest visions of our suspected tradition, and for himself anticipated from the living age the certain eulogium of our latest posterity. No, my Lord, these are gifts derived from nature, and often we have seen them lavished on the worthless; but it is for the qualities which are inherent in himself that I give him, as I do, the combined tribute of my heart and my understanding. It is for his dignified and undeviating independence--for his lofty principles-for his stainless and uncompromising spirit-for his Fabrician virtue-for his vestal patriotism-for the dauntless intrepidity of his public conduct, contrasted, as it is, with that peculiar blandness which has made his home a paradise, and left that aged parent doubtful whether, on this enviable night, he should be the proudest or happiest of fathers. (Mr. Phillips here pointed to the elder Mr. Moore, which excited an universal sensation). It is, my Lord, for this I prize him; but highly and above all it is because neither absence, nor gold, nor adversity, nor good fortune, no, nor the perilous encouragement of many a renegade example, could tempt him to forget the friends he left behind him; it is because the pure and brilliant flame which burns within has ever been, like the fire of his own Gheber, consecrated to the forlorn liberties of his country." Mr. Samuel Lover (afterwards so well and honourably known in Irish literature, and who was at the time of which we write about eighteen years old) sang a lively song, composed by himself for the occasion. The young author called it "A Poet's Election." The scene was supposed to be on Mount Olympus. There were several candidates, such as Byron, Scott, Southey, &c., but the "Election" ended in the due return of Thomas Moore, who had a great majority of votes. This jeu d'esprit produced much merriment, and the health of the author was drunk with much applause. The Chairman next gave, "Lady Morgan, and the female genius of Ireland." This toast was received with great enthusiasm, and was responded to in an eloquent speech by Sir Charles Morgan. Lord Charlemont left the Chair about one o'clock. Lord Cloncurry took the Chair for some time, and was succeeded by Mr. Phillips. During the evening Moore delighted the company with several songs. On the night after the dinner, a new opera was produced, founded on Lalla Rookh. Moore was present at the performance. He sat in the back part of the manager's box, but it was quickly observed that he was in the house, and as soon as the discovery was made, plaudits resounded on every side, and there was a general call for the poet. After a short hesitation, he came to the front of the box, and laying his hand on his heart, bowed frequently. He was greeted with enthusiastic and long continued cheers and applauses, and these manifestations of public regard were repeated at every interval of the performance, and were each time most gracefully acknowledged. Moore left Dublin on the following day. RHYMES ON THE ROAD. In 1819, Moore paid a visit to Italy, in company with Lord John Russell, and during their tour wrote most of the poems which bear the abovementioned title. Moore did not think highly of these poems, which he called "prose fringed with rhyme," yet, they contain many beauties, of which some illustrations will be found below. It was during this visit to Italy that Moore spent some time at Venice with Lord Byron, who at this period made his visitor a present of his memoirs. Moore sold them to Murray, the publisher, for two thousand guineas, but at the request of Byron's family this agreement was afterwards cancelled, and the manuscript was destroyed. Moore gives rather a lengthened account of his visit to Venice in his Life of Byron. We shall speak more at large of the circumstances connected with the friendship between the two poets, when we come to treat of Moore's Memoir of the brilliant author of Childe Harold. From Venice Moore went on to Rome, and enjoyed the pleasure of viewing the ruins of that "Niobe of Nations," in the company of Canova, Chantrey, Lawrence, and Turner. With these distinguished companions Moore visited Florence, Bologna, and other cities of Italy. He was, of course, much struck with the works of art which met his eye in gorgeous profusion. He says, however, that his chief pleasure arose from the poetical nature of the subjects, rather than the artistic merit of the various productions he saw. It was from the natural beauty of the scenery of Italy and Switzerland, "the cheap picture gallery of Nature," he derived his principal delight. "A glorious sunset (he writes) I witnessed in ascending the Simplon, is still remembered by me with a depth and fulness of feeling which no one work of art I saw in the galleries of Italy has left behind." GENOA. 'Twas late-the sun had almost shone Approaching scenes where, they are told, As youthful bards in dreams behold. 'Twas distant yet, and, as I ran, Diminished to a speck as splendid I stood entranced-as Rabbins say |