"An eloquence rich, wheresoever its wave Wander'd free and triumphant, with thoughts that shone through, As clear as the brook's 'stone of lustre,' and gave, the flash of the gem, its solidity too." --Moore: _Shall the Harp be silent_. "Ever glorious Grattan! the best of the good! So simple in heart, so sublime in the rest! With all which Demosthenes wanted endued, And his rival or victor in all he possess'd." --Byron: _The Irish Avatar_. [4] Thomas Moore: _Memoirs of Lord Edward Fitzgerald_. [5] Madden: _The United Irishmen, Their Lives and Times_. [6] "Already has the child of Gallia's school, The foul Philosophy that sins by rule, With all her train of reasoning, damning arts, Begot by brilliant heads or worthless hearts-- Already has she poured her poison here O'er every charm that makes existence dear." --_Epistle to Lord Viscount Forbes_. [7] Madden: _United Irishmen. Robert Emmet_: anonymous, but known to be written by Madame d'Haussonville. XIII EROTIC LYRIC POETRY Moore was by nature disposed to gaiety and happiness, not to solitary conflict. He was created to occupy, in the manner of the ancient Irish bards, an honourable place at the table of the great, and while away their time with song. A sign of his being one of fortune's favourites is that he often jests even when he is most in earnest, unlike Byron, who, even when he jests, is serious, nay, gloomy. Moore plays with his theme and caresses it; Byron tears his to pieces, and turns from it in disgust. The two friends are constantly observing and reproducing nature; but under Byron's gaze the sun itself seems to be darkened, whilst Moore, with his love of rosy red and brightness and sparkle, himself creates "a morning sun which rises at noon." Hence we get but a one-sided picture of Moore when we study him, as our plan has led us to do, chiefly as a political poet. He is also the writer of some of the best and most musical erotic lyrics in existence. The music of his verse is more exuberant than delicate; but there is magic in his handling of language. In his love poems a fascinating, glowing sensuousness and an ardent tenderness have found expression in word-melodies which are as tuneful as airs by Rossini. English admirers of Shelley, accustomed to more delicate, and, to the uninitiated, more perplexing harmonies, may, if they please, call these songs "over-sweet"; erotic verse cannot be too erotic; as the French say: "In love too much is not enough," Moore is no Mozart; but is this not almost like a Mozart air, like one of the hero's or Zerlina's in _Don Juan_? "The young May-moon is beaming, love! The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love! How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove, While the drowsy world is dreaming, love!"