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refined as well as hospitable festivity. The Miss Montgomerys, to whose rare beauty the pencil of Sir Joshua has given immortality, were among those whom my worthy preceptor most boasted of as pupils; and his description of them, I remember, tong haunted my boyish imagination, as though they were not earthly women, but some spiritual "creatures of the

element."

About thirty or forty years before the period of which I am speaking, an eager taste for private theatrical performances had sprung up among the higher ranks of society in Ireland; and at Carton, the seat of the Duke of Leinster, at Castletown, Marley, and other great houses, private plays were got up, of which, in most instances, the superintendence was intrusted to Mr. Whyte, and in general the prologue, or the epilogue, contributed by his pen. At Marley, the seat of the Latouches, where the masque of Comus was performed in the year 1776, while my old master supplied the prologue, no less distinguished a hand than that of our 66 ever-glorious Grattan," furnished, the epilogue. This relic of his pen, too, is the more memorable, as being, I believe, the only poetical composition he was ever known to produce.

At the time 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 favorite show-scholar; and among the play-bills introduced in his 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."

With acting, indeed, is associated the very first attempts at verse-making to which my memory enables me to plead guilty. It was at a period, I think, even earlier than the date last mentioned, that, while passing the summer holidays, with a number of other young people, at one of those bathing-places, in the neighborhood of Dublin, which afford such fresh and healthful retreats to its inhabitants, it was proposed among us that we should combine together in some theatrical performance; and

* Byron.

the Poor Soldier and a Harlequin Pantomime being the entertainments agreed upon, the parts of Patrick and the Motley hero fell to my share. I was also encouraged to write and recite an appropriate epilogue on the occasion; and the following lines, alluding to our speedy return to school, and remarkable only for their having lived so long in my memory, formed part of this juvenile effort:

Our Pantaloon, who did so aged look,

Must now resume his youth, his task, his book:
Our Harlequin, who skipp'd, laugh'd, danced and died,
Must now stand trembling by his master's side.

I have thus been led back, step by step, from an early date to one still earlier, with the view of ascertaining, for those who take any interest in literary biography, at what period I first showed an aptitude for the now common craft of verse-making; and the result is-so far back in childhood lies the epoch-that I am really unable to say at what age I first began to act, sing, and rhyme.

To these different talents, such as they were, the gay and social habits prevailing in Dublin afforded frequent opportunities of display; while, at home, a most amiable father, and a mother such as in heart and head has rarely been equalled, furnished me with that purest stimulus to exertion-the desire to please those whom we, at once, most love and most respect. It was, I think, a year or two after my entrance into college, that a masque written by myself, and of which I had adapted one of the songs to the air of Haydn's Spirit-Song, was acted, under our own humble roof in Aungier street, by my elder sister myself, and one or two other young persons. The little drawing-room over the shop was our grand place of representation and young now an eminent professor of music in Dublin, enacted for us the part of orchestra at the piano-forte.

It will be seen from all this, that, however imprudent and premature was my first appearance in the London world as an author, it is only lucky that I had not much earlier assumed that responsible character; in which case the public would probably have treated my nursery productions in much the same manner in which that sensible critic, my Uncle Toby, would have disposed of the "work which the great Lipsius produced on the day he was born."

While thus the turn I had so early shown for rhyme and song was, by the gay and sociable circle in which I lived, called so encouragingly into play, a far deeper feeling and, I should hope, power-was at the same time awakened in me by the mighty change then working in the political aspect of Europe, and the stirring influence it had begun to exercise on the spirit and hopes of Ireland. Born of Catholic parents, I had come into the world with the slave's yoke around my neck; and it was all in vain that the fond ambition of a mother looked forward to the Bar as opening a career that might lead her son to honor and affluence. Against the young Papist all such avenues to distinction were closed; and even the University, the professed source of public education, was to him "a fountain sealed." Can any one now wonder that a people thus wronged and trampled upon should have 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. I remember being taken by my father (1792) to one of the dinners given in honor of that great event, and sitting 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."

In a few months after was passed the memorable Act of 1793, sweeping away some of the most monstrous of the remaining sanctions of the penal code; and I was myself among the first of the young Helots of the land, who hastened to avail themselves of the new privilege of being educated in their country's university, though still excluded from all share in those college honors and emoluments by which the ambition of the youths of the ascendant class was stimulated and rewarded. As I well knew that, next to my attaining some of these distinctions, my showing that I deserved to attain them would most gratify my anxious mother, I entered as candidate for a scholarship, and (as far as the result of the examination went) successfully. But, of course, the mere barren credit of the effort was all I enjoyed for my pains.

It was in this year, (1794,) or about the beginning of the next, that I remember having, for the first time, tried my hand at political satire. In their very worst times of slavery

and suffering, the happy disposition of my countrymen had kept their cheerfulness etill unbroken and buoyant; and, at the period of which I am speaking, the hope of a brighter day dawning upon Ireland had given to the society of the middle classes in Dublin a more than usual flow of hilarity and life. Among other gay results of this festive spirit, a club, or society, was instituted by some of our most convivial citizens, one of whose objects was to burlesque, good-humoredly, the forms and pomps of royalty. With this view they established a sort of mock kingdom, of which Dalkey, a small island near Dublin, was made the seat, and an eminent pawnbroker, named Stephen Armitage, much renowned for his agreeable singing, was the chosen and popular monarch.

Before public affairs had become too serious for such pastime, it was usual to celebrate, yearly, at Dalkey, the day of this sovereign's accession; and, among the gay scenes that still live in my memory, there are few it recalls with more freshness than the celebration, on a fine Sunday in summer, of one of these anniversaries of King Stephen's coronation. The picturesque sea-views from that spot, the gay crowds along the shores, the innumerable boats, full of life, floating about, and, above all, that true spirit of mirth which the Irish temperament never fails to lend to such meetings, rendered the whole a scene not easily forgotten. The state ceremonies of the day were performed, with all due gravity, within the ruins of an ancient church that stands on the island, where his mock majesty bestowed the order of knighthood upon certain favored personages, and among others, I recollect, upon Incledon, the celebrated singer, who arose from under the touch of the royal sword with the appropriate title of Sir Charles Melody. There was also selected, for the favors of the crown on that day, a lady of no ordinary poetic talent, Mrs. Battier, who had gained much fame by some spirited satires in the manner of Churchill, and whose kind encouragement of my early attempts in versification were to me a source of much pride. This lady, as was officially announced, in the course of the day, had been appointed his majesty's poetess laureate, under the style and title of Henrietta, Countess of Laurel.

words, "They do you great credit; and I shall not fail to recommend them to the notice of the Board." This result of a step, ventured upon with some little fear and scruple, was of course very gratifying to me; and the premium I received from the Board was a well-bound copy of the Travels of Anacharsis, together with a certificate, stating, in not very lofty Latin, that this reward had been conferred upon me, "propter laudabilem in versibus componendis progressum."

There could hardly have been devised answering in the affirmative, added these cheering apter vehicle for lively political satire than this gay travesty of monarchical power, and its showy appurtenances, so temptingly supplied. The very day, indeed, after this commemoration, there appeared, in the Dalkey stategazette, an amusing proclamation from the king, offering a large reward, in cronebanes,* | to the finder or finders of his majesty's crown, which, owing to his "having measured both sides of the road" in his pedestrian progress on the preceding night, had unluckily fallen from the royal brow.

It is not to be wondered at, that whatever natural turn I may have possessed for the lighter skirmishing of satire should have been called into play by so pleasant a field for its exercise as the state affairs of the Dalkey kingdom afforded; and, accordingly, my first | attempt in this line was an Ode to his Majesty, King Stephen, contrasting the happy state of security in which he lived among his merry lieges, with the." metal coach," and other such precautions against mob violence, which were said to have been adopted at that time by his royal brother of England. Some portions of this juvenile squib still live in my memory; but they fall far too short of the lively demands of the subject to be worth preserving, even as juvenilia.

In college, the first circumstance that drew any attention to my rhyming powers was my giving in a theme, in English verse, at one of the quarterly examinations. As the sort of short essays required on those occasions were considered, in general, as a mere matter of form, and were written, invariably, I believe, in Latin prose, the appearance of a theme in English verse could hardly fail to attract some notice. It was, therefore, with no small anxiety that, when the moment for judging of the themes arrived, I saw the examiners of the different divisions assemble, as usual, at the bottom of the hall for that purpose. Still more trying was it when I perceived that the reverend inquisitor, in whose hands was my fate, had left the rest of the awful group, and was bending his steps towards the table where I was seated. Leaning across to me, he asked suspiciously, whether the verses which I had just given in were my own; and, on my an* Irish halfpence, so called.

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The idea of attempting a version of some of the Songs or Odes of Anacreon had very early occurred to me; and a specimen of my first ventures in this undertaking may be found in the Dublin Magazine already referred to, here, in the number of that work for Februa¡ - 1794, appeared a 66 Paraphrase of Anacreon's Fifth Ode, by T. Moore." As it may not be uninteresting to future and better translators of the poet to compare this schoolboy experiment with my later and more labored version of the same ode, I shall here extract the specimen found in the Anthologia :

"Let us, with the clustering vine,

The rose, Love's blushing flower, entwine.
Fancy's hand our chaplet's wreathing,
Vernal sweets around us breathing,
We'll gayly drink, full goblets quaffing,
At frighted Care securely laughing.
"Rose! thou balmy-scented flower,
Rear'd by Spring's most fostering power,
Thy dewy blossoms, opening bright,
To gods themselves can give delight;
And Cypria's child, with roses crown'd,
Trips with each Grace the mazy round.
"Bind my brows,-I'll tune the lyre
Love my rapturous strains shall fire,
Near Bacchus' grape-encircled shrine,
While roses fresh my brows entwine,
Led by the winged train of Pleasures,

I'll dance with nymphs to sportive measures."

In pursuing further this light task, the only object I had for some time in view was to lay before the Board a select number of the odes I had then translated, with a hope,-suggested by the kind encouragement I had already received, that they might be considered as deserving of some honor or reward. Having experienced much hospitable attention from Doctor Kearney, one of the senior fellows,† a man of most amiable character, as well as of refined scholarship, I submitted to his perusal

↑ Appointed Provost of the University in the year 1799, and made afterwards Bishop of Ossory.

The unskilful attempt at Greek verse from my own pen, which is found prefixed to the Translation, was intended originally to illustrate a picture, representing Anacreon conversing with the Goddess of Wisdom, from which the frontispiece to the first edition of the work was taken. Had I been brought up with a due fear of the laws of prosody before my eyes, I certainly should not have dared to submit so untutored a production to the criticism of the trained prosodians of the English schools. At the same time, I cannot help adding that, as far as music, distinct from metre, is concerned, I am much inclined to prefer the ode as originally written to its present corrected shape, and that, at all events, I entertain but very little doubt as to which of the two a composer would most willingly set to music.

the manuscript of my translation as far as it had then proceeded, and requested his advice respecting my intention of laying it before the Board. On this latter point his opinion was such as, with a little more thought, I might have anticipated, namely, that he did not see how the Board of the University could lend their sanction, by any public reward, to writings so convivial and amatory as were almost all those of Anacreon. He very good-naturedly, however, lauded my translation, and advised me to complete and publish it; adding, I well recollect, "young people will like it." I was also indebted to him for the use, during my task, of Spaletti's curious publication, giving a facsimile of those pages of a MS. in the Vatican Library which contain the Odes, or 'Symposiacs," attributed to Anacreon.* And here I shall venture to add a few passing words on a point which I once should have thought it For the means of collecting the materials of profanation to question, the authenticity of the notes appended to the Translation, I was these poems. The cry raised against their chiefly indebted to the old library adjoining St. genuineness by Robertellus and other enemies Patrick's Cathedral, called, from the name of of Henry Stephen, when that eminent scholar the archbishop who founded it, Marsh's Library. first introduced them to the learned world, Through my acquaintance with the deputy may be thought to have long since entirely librarian, the Rev. Mr. Cradock, I enjoyed the subsided, leaving their claim to so ancient a privilege of constant access to this collection, paternity safe and unquestioned. But I am even at that period of the year when it is forced, however reluctantly, to confess that there always closed to the public. On these occaappear to me strong grounds for pronouncing sions I used to be locked in there alone; and these light and beautiful lyrics to be merely to the many solitary hours which, both at the modern fabrications. Some of the reasons that time I am now speaking of and subsequently. incline me to adopt this unwelcome conclu- I passed in hunting through the dusty tomes of sion a thus clearly stated by the same able this old library, I owe much of that odd and scholar, to whom I am indebted for the emen-out-of-the-way sort of reading which may be dations of my own juvenile Greek ode:-"I found scattered through some of my earlier do not see how it is possible, if Anacreon had writings. written chiefly in Iambic dimeter verse, that Horace should have wholly neglected that metre. I may add that, of those fragments of Anacreon, of whose genuineness, from internal evidence, there can be no doubt, almost all are written in one or other of the lighter Horatian metres, and scarcely one in Iambic dimeter verse. This may be seen by looking through the list in Fischer."

* When the monument to Provost Baldwin, which stands In the hall of the College of Dublin, arrived from Italy, there came in the same packing-case with it two copies of this work of Spaletti, one of which was presented by Dr. Troy the Roman Catholic Archbishop, as a gift from the Pope to the Library of the University, and the other (of which I was subsequently favored with the use) he presented, in like

Early in the year 1799, while yet in my nineteenth year, I left Ireland, for the first time, and proceeded to London, with the two not very congenial objects, of keeping my terms at the Middle Temple, and publishing, by subscription, my Translation of Anacreon. of those persons to whom, through the active zeal of friends, some part of my manuscript had been submitted before it went to press,

One

manner, to my friend, Dr. Kearney. Thus, curiously enough, while Anacreon in English was considered-and, I grant, on no unreasonable grounds-as a work to which grave collegiate authorities could not openly lend their sanction, Anacreon in Greek was thought no unfitting present to be received by a Protestant bishop, through the medium of a Catholic archbishop, from the hands of his holiness, the Pope.

was Doctor Laurence, the able friend of Burke; and, as an instance, however slight, of that ready variety of learning-as well the lightest as the most solid-for which Laurence was so remarkable, the following extract from the letter written by him, in returning the manuscript to my friend Dr. Hume, may not be without some interest :

"Dec. 20, 1799.

"I return you the four odes which you were so kind to communicate for my poor opinion. They are, in many parts, very elegant and poetical; and, in some passages, Mr. Moore has added a pretty turn not to be found in the original. To confess the truth, however, they are, in not a few places, rather more paraphrastical than suits my notion (perhaps an incorrect notion) of translation.

"In the fifty-third ode there is, in my judg ment, a no less sound than beautiful emendation suggested-would you suppose it?—by a Dutch lawyer. Mr. M. possibly may not be aware of it. I have endeavored to express the sense of it in a couplet interlined with pencil. Will you allow me to add, that I am not certain whether the translation has not missed the meaning, too, in the former part of that passage which seems to me to intend a distinction and climax of pleasure: It is sweet even to prove it among the briery paths; it is sweet again, plucking, to cherish with tender hands, and carry to the fair, the flower of love.' This is nearly literal, including the conjectural correction of Mynheer Medenbach. If this be right, instead of

"Tis sweet to dare the tangle fence,'

I wold propose something to this effect :--
"Tis sweet the rich perfume to prove,
As by the dewy bush you rove;
"Tis sweet to dare the tangled fence,
To cull the timid beauty thence,
To wipe with tender hands away
The tears that on its blushes lay;"
Then, to the bosom of the fair,
The flower of love in triumph bear.

"I would drop altogether the image of the stems ' dropping with gems.' I believe it is a confused and false metaphor, unless the painter

* Query, if it ought not to be lie? The line might run, With tender hand the tears to brush, That give new softness to its blush (or, its flush.)

should take the figure of Aurora from Mrs. Hastings.

"There is another emendation of the same critic, in the following line, which Mr. M. may seem, by accident, to have sufficiently expressed in the phrase of roses shed their light.'

"I scribble this in very great haste, but fear that you and Mr. Moore will find me too long, minute, and impertinent. Believe me to be, very sincerely,

"Your obedient, humble servant,

"F. LAURENCE."

PREFACE

ΤΟ

THE SECOND VOLUME.

THE Poems suggested to me by my vis to Bermuda, in the year 1803, as well as by the tour which I made subsequently, through some parts of North America, have been hitherto very injudiciously arranged;—any distinctive character they may possess having been disturbed and confused by their being mixed up not only with trifles of a much earlier date, but also with some portions of a classical story, in the form of Letters, which I had made some progress in before my departure from England. In the present edition, this awkward jumble has been remedied; and all the Poems relating to my Transatlantic voyage will be found classed by themselves. As, in like manner, the line of route by which I proceeded through some parts of the States and the Canadas, has been left hitherto to be traced confusedly through a few detached notes, I have thought that, to future readers of these poems, some clearer account of the course of that journey might not be unacceptable,-together with such vestiges as may still linger in my memory of events now fast fading into the background of time

For the precise date of my departure from England, in the Phaeton frigate, I am indebted to the Naval Recollections of Captain Scott, then a midshipman of that ship. 66 "We were soon ready," says this gentleman," for sea, and a few days saw Mr. Merry and suite embarked on board. Mr. Moore likewise took his passage

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