They are all gone, these Dibdins, of whom Charles of Southampton was the one whose fame will be the most lasting. Like all men, he is to be judged by his best. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link; a boiler is only as thick as its thinnest part; but a poet is to be measured by his best--the best teachings of the best of his poetry. By this standard the oldest of the Dibdins will rank foremost among those bards and minstrels who have swept the harp and raised the voice to quicken human trust in God, to fan into flame the slumbering but never dead fire of patriotism, and to inculcate loyalty to the powers that be. Dibdin taught perseverance in well-doing with the fervour of a St. Paul, and if he allowed a little too much of the bowl, he was earnest in upholding, when serious, courage and honesty in man, and undying fidelity to woman. When the youngest of the vocal, musical, and dramatic Dibdins died, in 1841, some one was found to fling, as it were, a stanza or two of sympathy on his tomb. From some lines, called ‘Poor Tom,’ dated from Vienna and printed in the ‘Bath Journal,’ we take the last eight to close our article:-- Poor Tom! As late I wander’d by the Rhine, I saw its banks in Winter’s mantle clad, Gaunt, grim, and naked stood each shiv’ring vine-- It was a sight to make the soul feel sad. ‘How many a heart,’ I said, ‘is now made warm By the bright produce of the joyous tree, Here left by man to struggle with the storm!’ I sigh’d, Tom; went my way; and thought of thee! _HORATIO NELSON AND EMMA HAMILTON._