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Yes! I loved thee and thine, though thou wert not

my land;

I have known noble hearts and brave souls in

thy sons, And I wept with delight on the patriot band

Who are gone,—but I weep them no longer as

once !

For happy are they now reposing afar

Thy Curran, thy Grattan, thy Sheridan,-all, Who for years were the chiefs in this eloquent

war, And redeem'd, if they have not retarded thy


Yes ! happy are they in their cold English graves!

Their shades cannot start at thy shouts of to


Nor the steps of enslavers and slave-kissing slaves Be damp'd in the turf o'er their fetterless



Till now I had envied thy sons and thy shore! Though their virtues are blunted, their liberties

fled, There is something so warm and sublime in the


Of an Irishman's heart, that I envy- their

dead !

Or if aught in my bosom can quench for an

hour My contempt of a nation so servile, though


Which, though trod like the worm, will not turn

upon power, 'Tis the glory of Grattan--the genius of Moore !


“ What a noble fellow,” said Lord Byron, after I had finished reading, “ Lord Edward Fitzgerald !--and what a “ romantic and singular history was his ! “ If it were not too near our times, it

would make the finest subject in the world for an historical novel.”

" What was there so singular in his life and adventures?" I asked.

“ Lord Edward Fitzgerald,” said he, was a soldier from a boy. He served in “ America, and was left for dead in one “ of the pitched battles, (I forget which,) “ and returned in the list of killed. Hav'ing been found in the field after the re“moval of the wounded, he was recovered

by the kindness and compassion of a “ native, and restored to his family as one “ from the grave.

On coming back to England, he employed himself entirely

in the duties of his corps and the study “ of military tactics, and got a regiment. The French Revolution now broke out, “and with it a flame of liberty burnt in the breast of the young Irishman. He

paid this year a visit to Paris, where he “ formed an intimacy with Tom Paine, and came over with him to England.

“ There matters rested, till, dining one day at his regimental mess, he ordered “ the band to play · Ça ira,' the great re“ volutionary air. A few days afterwards “ he received a letter from head-quarters, “ to say that the King dispensed with his 6 services.

“ He now paid a second visit to America, “ where he lived for two years among

the “ native Indians; and once again crossing “ the Atlantic, settled on his family estate “ in Ireland, where he fulfilled all the du

“ties of a country-gentleman and magis“ trate. Here it was that he became ac

quainted with the O'Connors, and in

conjunction with them zealously exerted “ himself for the emancipation of their

country. On their imprisonment he was

proscribed, and secreted for six weeks “ in what are called the liberties of Dub“ lin; but was at length betrayed by a


Major Sirr and a party of the military “ entered his bed-room, which he always “ kept unlocked. At the voices he started up in bed and seized his pistols, when

Major Sirr fired and wounded him. “ Taken to prison, he soon after died of “ his wound, before he could be brought

to trial. Such was the fate of one who “ had all the qualifications of a hero and

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