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Moore.

THOMAS MOORE, "the poet of all spheres and idol of his own, was born in Dublin on the 28th May, 1779. His undergraduate course in Trinity College, which he entered as a student in 1793, was highly distinguished.

Early in 1799 he says, "While yet my nineteenth year, I proceeded to London with the two not very congenial objects, of keeping my terms in the Middle Temple and publishing my translation of Anacreon." This translation, which appeared in 1800, proved at once the accuracy of his classical attainments and his poetic talent, and is thus alluded to by Byron"Anacreon Moore,

To whom the Lyre and Laurels have been given
With all the trophies of triumphant song-

He won them well, and may he wear them long."

Moore was gifted with a happy, genial disposition, and the singular power of making and retaining friendships, and lived on terms of intimacy with most of the literary and several of the eminent statesmen of his time. Through the influence of Lord Moira he received a government appointment at Bermuda, and having taken possession of his office, he visited the principal cities of America, and returned to England after an absence of fourteen months.

His "Odes and Epistles," published soon after his return, contain "the most pleasing and most exact description of Bermuda ;" and the "Twopenny Post-Bag," which appeared in 1813, is full of brilliant fancy and pungent political allusions.

Some remarks in the "Edinburgh Review," supposed to be a reflection on Moore's personal character, led to a hostile meeting between him and Jeffrey, which gave rise to much amusement at their expense, as it was found the pistols had been loaded only with paper pellets. An explanation ensued, which resulted in a life-long friendship.

Moore's reputation as a fertile and brilliant writer was now so well established, that Longinan agreed to pay three thousand guineas for "Lalla Rookh" before a line of it was written. In 1819 he travelled through France with Lord John Russell, and visited Byron at Venice. The next two years he lived in Paris, and wrote the "Loves of the Angels" and the "Epicurean."

He is now best known by his "Irish Melodies," which will be appreciated so long as suitable words set to expressive music of exquisite tenderness have power to charm.

In the dirge we sung o'er him no censure was heard, Unembittered and free did the tear-drop descend; We forgot in that hour how the statesman had erred, And wept for the husband, the father and friend. Lines on the Death of Mr. Percival.

Spencer Percival, Prime Minister, 1762.

November 2.

And Frenchmen learned to crush the throne they served.

Who pant for licence, while they spurn control,
And shout for rights with rapine in their souls.

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November 2.

November 3.

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