XII. And those who now quit their hods, shovels, and barrows, In crowds to the bar of some ale-house to flock, When bred to our bar shall be Gibbses and Garrows, Assume the silk gown, and discard the smock-frock. XIII. For Erin surpasses the daughters of Neptune, As Dian excels each encircling star; And the spheres of the heavens could never have kept tune Till set to the music of Erin-gɔ-bragh! :0: The great Christopher North (Professor Wilson) had but a poor opinion of Thomas Moore, and in Noctes Ambrosiane (Blackwood's Magazine July 1823) he thus expressed himself: "MOORE will not live long as a song writer, he has not the stamina in him at all. His verses are elegant, pretty, glittering, anything you please in that line; but they have defects which will not allow them to get down to posterity His strong party views, his affectation of learning, his parade of his knowledge of botany, zoology, and the other 'ologies, these are serious defects, and then the mixed metaphors, and often down-right nonsense to be found in his songs, all detract from his chances of immortality." "Here" says Wilson "is a song he intended to be sung by : A FALLEN ANGEL OVER A BOWL OF RUM-PUNCH. LOVE AND THE FLIMSIES. LITTLE Cupid one day on a sunbeam was floating, The whirl and the splash that the water-wheel made. The air was all filled with the scent of the roses, Round the Miller's veranda that clustered and twined; And he thought if the sky were all made up of noses, This spot of the earth would be most to his mind. And forth came the Miller, a Quaker in verity, And behind him a Scotchman was singing "Prosperity," And "Walth and prosparity," "Walth and prosparity," His bonny scotch burthen arose on the air, Is a song all in praise of that primitive charity, Which begins with sweet home, and which terminates there. But sudden a tumult arose from a distance, And in rushed a rabble with steel and with stone. And ere the scared miller could call for assistance, The mill to a million of atoms was blown. Scarce mounted the fragments in ether to hurtle, When the Quaker was vanished, no eye had seen where ; And the Scotchman thrown flat on his back, like a turtle, Was sprawling and bawling, with heels in the air. Little Cupid continued to hover and flutter, Since on earth they so often have bought and sold you.” (From Paper Money Lyrics, written during the commercial panic, in the winter 1825-26.) :0: Another imitation of Moore's style is given in The Book of Ballads, edited by Bon Gaultier, and published by William Blackwood & Sons. These Ballads were written by Professor W. E. Aytoun, and Theodore Martin. A few of them may be considered amusing as parodies, but the greater number are really clever imitations of style, with a little burlesque introduced here and there. Thus, the following would pass well for one of Mcore's lighter songs: very THE BARD OF ERIN'S LAMENT. And soared in the sunshine, the moth of the hour! Now fondled the lily, now toyed with the rose; And the fair, that at morn had enchanted my mind, Was forsook for another ere evening's close. * But weep for the hour! Life's summer is past, And the snow of its winter lies cold on my brow; . And my soul as it shrinks from each stroke of the blast, Can not turn to a fire that glows inwardly now. No, its ashes are dead-and, alas! Love or Song No charm to Life's lengthening shadows can lend, Like a cup of old wine, rich, mellow, and strong, And a seat by the fire tête-à-tête with a friend. :0: OLD SHERRY. (A Parody on the Anacreontic Song.) TO OLD Sheridan once as he sat in full glee, I have no cash to spare, And for all your distresses one damn I dont care, And from all your arrests, I'm by privilege free ; But if once I get in, 'tis my serious design, So flushed was his phiz, That the nose of old Bardolph were ice matched to his ; He returned to his friends, who'd just helped him to dine, And laughed at the dupes who found banquet and wine. From The Spirit of the Age Newspaper for 1828. The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan here referred to, the celebrated wit, orator, and dramatist, THE SHY BO-PEEP. (A sea-side fact.) THE shy Bo-Peep to the sea is gone, And a life buoy slung behind her. "Bathe, I wont !" said this maiden shy, "Tho' disappointment rankles, "In such a garb some man might spy My pettitoes and ankles ! Her friends protest, but the task is vain To make Bo-peep knock under, The frock was never worn again, :0: A. H.S. ANACREON'S ODE XXI. Then, hence with all your sober thinking Moore has been often accused of plagiarism, and more often perhaps in connection with the above translation from Anacreon than any other poem. A few examples of the versions of earlier writers will show how far the charge can be substantiated. Pierre de Ronsard (who died in 1585) wrote a version, which, given in the old orthography, runs thus: "LA terre, les eaux va boivant. L'arbre la boit par sa racine. La mer salée boit le vent, Et le soleil boit la marine. Le soleil est beu de la lune, Tout boit soit en haut ou en bas. Suivant ceste règle commune Pourquoy donc ne boirons nous pas?'' Capilupus imitated the ode, in an epitaph on a drunkard, which has thus been rendered ;— WHILE life was mine, the little hour I drank as earth imbibes the shower, Or flushing sun inhales the sea: And Bacchus was outdone by me! In scene 3, act iv., of Timon of Athens, Shakespeare has a similar passage; "I'LL example you with thievery. The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Another version : THE heavens carouse each day a cup, The sun, and who as right as he? THE THIRSTY EARTH. The sea itself (which one would think The busy sun (and one would guess They drink and dance by their own light, Fill up the bowl then, fill it high, Whilst referring to Thomas Moore's plagiarisms mention must be made of an article on the subject contained in Fraser's Magazine, June 1841. It is too long to quote in full, but some of its principal statements may be given: "Moore's plagiarisms are intolerable. There is not a single original thought, conception, metaphor, or image, in the whole range of his works,-from the Posthumous Poems of Tom Little to his last dying speech-the Travels of an Írish Gentleman in Search of a Religion. Even the title of this nonsense is stolen from Erasmus's Peregrinatio Religionis ergo. The man is an indefatigable thief. He has laid under contribution every imaginable book, from the biography of his namesake, Tom Thumb, to the portly folios of the fathers of the church. Perfectly unscrupulous in his marauding expeditions, and impartial in his attacks, he is found at one moment rifling a saint, and in the next pillaging a sinner. You have asked me for some specimens of his plagiarisms. You shall have them. Time will permit me to expose only a very few, so I shall plunge at once in medias LITTLE'S POEMS. "Here is one leaf reserved for me These are stolen from some lines of Pope's :- LITTLE'S POEMS. "Oh, shall we not say thou art Love's duodecimo; Few can be prettier, none can be less, you know, Such a volume in sheets were a volume of charms, LITTLE'S POEMS, "If Mahomet would but receive me, Dryden. Epilogue to "Constantine the Great." "Th' original Trimmer, though a friend to no man, Yet in his heart adored a pretty woman, He knew that Mahomet laid up for ever "Sweet Vale of Avoca, how calm could I rest In the bosom of shade with the friends I love best; Sir John Suckling. Aglaura, act iv. Have mingled souls more than two meeting brooks." "We were so closed within each other's breasts, "Thou motion'st well, nor have I taken leave. It keeps a sweetness yet, [Kisses her]. As stills from roses when the flowers are gone. Philip Massinger. Roman Actor, act iv. sc. 2. "But that thou, whom oft I've seen To personate a gentleman, noble, wise, Faithful and gainsome, and what virtues else The poet pleases to adorn you with; But that (as vessels still partake the odour Of the sweet precious liquors they contain'd) The thing thou dost present." MOORE'S MELODIES. "As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while." James Mervyn. On Shirley's Plays. "They might, like waters in the sunshine set, Retain his image, not impart his heat." MOORE'S MELODIES. "The moon looks On many brooks, The brook can see no moon but this." Sir William Jones. "The moon looks upon many night-flowers, the night flowers see but one moon. MOORE'S MELODIES. “Though dark are our sorrows to-day, we'll forget them, And smile through our tears like a sunbeam in showers.' Sir E. Brydges. Restituta, vol. ii. p. 337. "Golden storms Fell from their eyes, as when the sun appears; And yet it rains, so shew'd their eyes their tears." MOORE'S MELODIES. "I flew to her chamber, 'twas lonely, While the hand that had waked it so often, Now throbb'd to a proud rival's kiss." Thomas Heywood. A Woman Killed with Kindness. Grief of Frankford after discovering his wife's infidelity. "Nic. Master, here's her lute flung in a corner! Frank. Her lute! Oh, God! upon this instrument Her fingers have ran quick division, * Swifter than that which now divides our hearts. Oft hath she made this melancholy wood These are specimens of Moore's rogueries; and now having heard them, will you not agree with me in the propriety of addressing him with the same compliment which Homer pays to Mercury. "Immortal honour awaits thee, oh, Thomas Little! for thou shalt be known to all posterity as the chief of thieves." LORD BYRON. On page 197 was inserted "The Enigma on the letter H," with several parodies on it. This poem has been generally ascribed to Lord Byron, but from correspondence recently published in "Notes and Queries" there seems little doubt but that it was written by Miss Catherine Fanshawe. The following imitation of it appeared in The Gownsman (Cambridge) November 1830. A RIDDLE. I WAS fashion'd by nature, and formed in the sun, And I've followed him since in the race he has run ; |