DIARY

OF

THOMAS MOORE.

1845.

OF THE

LIBRAR UNIVERSITY

CALIFORNI

JANUARY, 1st to 3rd. A most unexpected and wel-
come God-send for Our poor Tom, one of these
days; no less than 957. announced in a letter from Lord
Fitzroy Somerset; being the sum deducted from the price
of Tom's commission to pay the passage of his successor
to India. But the East India Company having given his
successor a free
passage, this sum has been put to Tom's
credit at Cox and Greenwood's. Wrote instantly, of
course, to tell him this good news, and suppose before
long we shall see him here.

The following verses appeared a few days since in the "Chronicle," and are from the pen (if I recollect her initials rightly) of my clever friend, Miss Costello.

TO THE POET.

"They are gone to the skies, they abandon the earth

To the seraphs, their kindred, our minstrels are flown ;
And have left to the land, that is proud of their birth
One ray of their brightness—one Poet alone.

"There are many whose numbers are graceful and fair,
Whose thoughts are harmonious, whose melodies please;
And some, as they listen, can idly compare

With the jewels of old simple sparkles like these.

"But let the great Master once waken the lay,

Once rouse from the sleep that has held him too long,
And as from the sun burst the clouds troop away,

They shall all be o'erwhelm'd in his torrent of song.

"One lay of his country, all passion and tears,

One wail of her grief, or despair, or disdain,
Is worth all the efforts-the study—of years—
Oh! when shall we hear them and hail him again?

"Bid the minstrel awaken, and charm us, as when

We knew from his verse what the spells were of yore;
The harp is his book, and its chords are his pen-

What darkness enshrouds thee ?-return to us, Moore.

"L. S. C."

Lady Elizabeth Fielding, in sending me these verses, which she had cut out of the newspaper, says, "See how the public call upon you, and you go on treating them with silent contempt. Shame, shame!"

Copy of a note from Mrs. Sydney Smith to Longman, July 7th, 1845, in reference to a letter I had written to him, expressing my fears that we should not be able to raise such a monument to Sydney as would be worthy of the man and his fame. This Longman sent to Mrs. Smith, and the following was her answer:

"My dear Sir, I honour Mr. Moore more than I can express for the contents of this note. That he should think more of the fame of his lamented friend, and make his own advantage a secondary and subordinate consideration, shows him to be indeed worthy of the distinction conferred on him by the genuine regard and affection of one of the best of men. He alone must decide whether our materials be of such a kind as will justify his perseverance," &c. &c.

The following epigram, which has just fallen into my

* Sydney Smith died in 1845. Mrs. Sydney Smith died in 1852.

hands, must have been written as far back as the project set on foot for making me member for Limerick :

From verses sent me by one of my foreign correspond

"Alma dal ciel divisa

Fugge invano alla sorte,
Va passeggiera in vita
Va prigionera in morte.
Sempre sospira, e teme,

Finchè non torna al ciel :
Al ciel, dov' ella nacque,

Dov' ha l' eterno amore;
E dopo un lungo errore
Spera di ritornar.”

Here is a good House of Commons' scene.

In the Irish House of Commons one night, a blustering orator having triumphantly, as he thought, exclaimed, "I am the guardian of my own honour," Sir Boyle Roche quietly settled the orator by saying, "I wish the honourable gentleman joy on his sinecure appointment."

Here is another House of Commons scene:

Government side: "Mr. Speaker, have we laws or have we not laws? If we have laws, to what purpose were those laws made unless they are obeyed ?”

Opposition side: "Mr. Speaker, did that gentleman speak to the purpose or not to the purpose, and if he did not speak to the purpose, to what purpose did he speak?"