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