The

and harmonious versification. pure and lofty sentiments of patriotism and virtue that breathe through them will be felt as long as "rivers roll and woods are green." The Melodies are the richest and most finished collection of songs the world has ever seen. In melody and flexibility of diction and versification, in graceful and appropriate imagery, in brilliant wit, racy humor, deep feeling, and patriotic enthusiasm, they are not surpassed by the most finished lyric productions of the ancient or modern world. The sublimity of Pindar, the grace and sweetness of Sappho, the energy, conciseness, and vivid imagery of Alcæus, the elegance of Horace, the fiery enthusiasm of Beranger, the humor and pathos of Burns, the classical finish of Gray, and the martial fire of Campbell, have won the praise and extorted the admiration of acute and eloquent critics; but these different qualities and beauties of style can be found in the exquisite songs of Moore. Neither Greece, nor Rome, nor France, nor England, nor Scotland has produced any lyric poet equal in united excellence to the bard of Erin. Sublimity is not the prevailing beauty of his songs, but he is sometimes as sublime as Pindar. He was unequal to the task of producing a battle-piece that could rival Campbell's Hohenlinden, but he surpasses the latter in the abundance and variety of his lyrical productions. He has no war-song equal in concentrated energy of expression to that heroic strain of Burns: "Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled;" but in richness and variety of imagery, graceful and musical diction, classical finish, and extent of knowledge, he was superior to the rustic bard of Scotland. In genius, taste, vigor, elegance, harmony of numbers, and felicity of expression, he resembles Horace, the greatest lyric poet of pagan Rome.

The odes of Horace are the most durable monument of his fame; the noblest

inspirations of Moore are his Irish Melodies. Horace skilfully and felicitously adapted the graceful and flowing measures of the lyric muse of Greece to the stately and inflexible Latin language. In the hands of Moore the harsh and discordant English language became flexible, soft, and musical. All the treasures of sweet sound were at his command. He surpassed Milton in his power over the English language. He surpassed Horace in originality, versatility of intellect, and brilliant and copious imagery. The Irish Melodies are so finished, expressive, and musical in language and versification, that an effort to improve them would be as vain as

"To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
Or add fresh perfume to the violet.'

They are the joy and delight of youth and manhood, the cheering consolation of old age. They have winged their way to every clime, and have been translated into every tongue. The correct language and versification which Moore employed in their composition improved and purified the public taste. Their publication heralded the dawn of a new era for Irish literature. They elevated the character of English song-writing, and exalted the standard of taste and imitation. When Moore first touched the chords of the national harp, many sweet Irish airs had been disgraced by poetry unworthy of their energy, depth, and tenderness. The coarse and vulgar language and thoughts of English song-writers were nearly as fatal to Irish minstrelsy as the deadly and destructive pressure of the accursed penal code. The penal laws vitiated the national taste, and this sad result of a barbarous policy increased the evil of the degrading connection of Irish music with the coarse language of anti-Irish songsters-language which was as injurious to literature as to public morals. The spirit of the ancient muse of the island seemed to be

dead, song and sense were divorced, and many good Irishmen despaired for many years of witnessing their union again at the close of the eighteenth century in Ireland. "When I first tried my novice hand at the lyre," said Moore, "the divorce between song and sense had reached its utmost range; and to all verses connected with music, from a birthday ode down to the libretto of the last new opera, might fairly be applied the solution which Figaro gives of the quality of the words of songs in general: Ce qui ne vant pas la peine d'être dit, on le chante."" At a time when words without sense passed current for the genuine inspirations of the lyric muse, the merit of Moore was soon appreciated, and his zeal for the preservation of his country's music encouraged by patriotic and educated Irishmen. Its preservation in his national lyrics seemed to be providential. It was fast sinking into the grave of oblivion, when with patriotic pride he rescued it from the general wreck of his country's hopes and liberties, and made it known and popular in lands where the name of Erin was seldom previously heard or mentioned. True, Hardiman and Bunting are entitled to the lasting gratitude of Irishmen for their patriotic labors in collecting some of the most valuable relics of the ancient poetry and music of Ireland. But the zeal and intelligent research of even Hardiman and Bunting would have been only partially successful, without a patriot poet capable of adapting appropriate words to the sweet airs which they had so laboriously and faithfully collected, and of making the poetry sympathize with the music. Hence the universal suffrage of his countrymen has bestowed upon Moore the proud distinction of being called the bard of Erin, not only because he was her greatest poet, but because he wedded her music to deathless song, and made it immortal as the shamrock on her green hills.

By purifying public taste, he rendered lasting services to the literature of his country. In his Melodies he has supplied the song-writers of each succeeding generation with models of taste and standards of excellence. Those immortal songs, however, accomplished much more than the improvement and elevation of Irish song-writing. They were instrumental in advancing the great cause of Catholic emancipation by creating a sympathy for the sufferings of Ireland in the higher classes of English society. They stimulated the patriotic ardor of the millions who hung with rapture on the inspiring accents of O'Connell and Sheil. How often did these mighty orators lend force to their arguments, and kindle the patriotic enthusiasm of the people by felicitous quotations from the Irish Melodies! They were sung by the humbler classes as well as by the wealthy and educated. They were the most read, the best remembered, and the most frequently quoted productions of the natural muse, since the race of the old Irish bards became extinct. In the gorgeous drawing-rooms and saloons of England they charmed all tastes, and calmed the angry and vindictive passions of the hereditary foes of Ireland. In those plaintive strains her cause was pleaded in accents more pathetic and persuasive than the eloquence of Grattan, O'Connell, and Sheil. It is said that the Duke of Wellington, whose military experience was not calculated to soften his heart, shed tears when the last lines of that famous song, in which Moore commemorates the great warrior's glory, were sung in his presence in one of the fashionable drawing-rooms of London. These are the lines which brought tears to the eyes of the Iron Duke:

Moore boasts that fourteen years after the first appearance of this stanza the Duke of Wellington recommended to the throne the great measure of Catholic Emancipation. Never before did music and song win such triumphs in the cause of freedom. Armed only with his harp, the Irish minstrel subdued the world of fashion, and by his enchanting strains, won the proud nobles of England to his country's cause.

At the music of the lyre of Orpheus -to borrow the beautiful language of ancient Greek poetry-the wheel of Ixion stopped, Tantalus forgot the thirst that tormented him, the vulture ceased to prey on the vitals of Tityus, and the stern Pluto became pliant and merciful. But the Irish harp worked miracles as great as those of the Greek lyre. It was as difficult for Moore to awaken sympathy for Ireland in England as it was Orpheus to civilize by the tones of his lyre the early race of men. The musical triumphs of Orpheus, however, are mythical-the beautiful traditions of an imaginative people who made even fable instructive. The musical victories of Moore were real-not the echoes of pagan my thology. His songs were consecrated to recollections of the ancient glories, valor, beauty, and sufferings of a country honored in the archives of civilization-once the light of Europe and still the glory of Christendom. The severity of the most refined literary criticism only discovers new beauties in them, time only increases their popularity, genius reads and studies them only to bestow new praises upon them. Horace, in his glowing panegyric of Pindar, says that the poet who would rival him is destined to fail as ignominiously as Icarus, who endeavored to fly with artificial wings-wings

made by his father, Dædalus. Horace's eulogy, however, of the Dircæan swan might be bestowed with more propriety upon Moore. Pindar, who is proverbial for his sublimity, is often obscure, often abrupt, fond of digression, and negligent of unity. But whether grave or gay, whether mirthful or melancholy, Moore is always perspicuous and felicitous in expression. Whether he sings the glories of Malachi and Brien the Brave, or mourns the tragic death of Robert Emmet, or weeps with Sarah Curran, "far from the land where her young hero sleeps," or celebrates the praises of the warrior bard who prefers an honorable death on the battlefield to life without freedom, or adds new glories to the magic scenery of the vale of Avoca, or moralizes on human life at early morn on the beach, or brings before our eyes the once royal halls of Tara, crowded with gallant chieftains and fair women, and ever echoing the enchanting notes of the harp, or renews the festive strains of Garry Owen, or inculcates union among his countrymen, or gives a new im mortality to that golden era when honor and virtue were dearer to Irishmen than gold or beauty, or chants the lament of Grattan, he is always harmonious in diction, and musical in versification. In a word, he is the prince of lyric poets-the inspired minstrel-"who ran through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all."

In this estimate of Moore as the greatest master of the lyre, some persons may consider me too encomiastic. I am supported in my opinion, however, by some of the ablest and most eloquent critics this century has yet produced.

"Of English lyric poets," says Lord John Russel," Moore is surely the first. Beautiful specimens of lyrical poetry may indeed be found from the earliest times of literature to the days of Burns, of Campbell, and of Tennyson, but no one poet