whose acclaim the loftiest voices vied,

The praised-the proud-who made his praise their pride.

When the loud cry of trampled Hindostan (1)
rose to Heaven in her appeal from man,
is was the thunder-his the avenging rod,
he wrath-the delegated voice of God!

Which shook the nations through his lips-and blazed ill vanquish'd senates trembled as they praised.

nd here, oh! here, where yet all young and warm "he gay creations of his spirit charm,

The matchless dialogue-the deathless wit,
Which knew not what it was to intermit;

'he glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring
Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring;
'hese wondrous beings of his Fancy, wrought
o fulness by the fiat of his thought,

Here in their first abode you still may meet, Bright with the hues of his Promethean heat; halo of the light of other days,

Which still the splendour of its orb betrays.

But should there be to whom the fatal blight
Of failing Wisdom yields a base delight,
Men who exult when minds of heavenly tone
ar in the music which was born their own,

Still let them pause-Ah! little do they know
That what to them seem'd Vice might be but Woe.
Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze
Is fix'd for ever to detract or praise;
Repose denies her requiem to his name,
And Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.
The secret enemy whose sleepless eye
Stands sentinel-accuser-judge-and spy,
The foe the fool-the jealous-and the vain,
The envious who but breathe in others' pain,
Behold the host! delighting to deprave,
Who track the steps of Glory to the grave,
Watch every fault that daring Genius owes
Half to the ardour which its birth bestows,
Distort the truth, accumulate the lie,
And pile the Pyramid of Calumny!

These are his portion-but if join'd to these
Gaunt Poverty should league with deep Disease,
If the high Spirit must forget to soar,

And stoop to strive with Misery at the door,
To soothe Indignity-and face to face

Meet sordid Rage-and wrestle with Disgrace,
To find in Hope but the renew'd caress,
The serpent-fold of further Faithlessness,-
If such may be the Ills which men assail,
What marvel if at last the mightiest fail?

reasts to whom all the strength of feeling given ear hearts electric-charged with fire from Heaven, lack with the rude collision, inly torn,

y clouds surrounded, and on whirlwinds borne, riven o'er the lowering atmosphere that nurst houghts which have turn'd to thunder-scorch-and burst.

ut far from us and from our mimic scene

uch things should be-if such have ever been; urs be the gentler wish, the kinder task,

o give the tribute Glory need not ask,

o mourn the vanish'd beam-and add our mite f praise in payment of a long delight.

e Orators! whom yet our councils yield, Courn for the veteran Hero of your field!

he worthy rival of the wondrous Three! (2) ap hose words were sparks of Immortality!

e Bards! to whom the Drama's Muse is dear,

e was your Master-emulate him here!

e men of wit and social eloquence!

e was your brother-bear his ashes hence!
hile Powers of mind almost of boundless range,
omplete in kind-as various in their change,
hile Eloquence-Wit-Poesy-and Mirth,
hat humbler Harmonist of care on Earth,
urvive within our souls-while lives our sense
f pride in Merit's proud pre-eminence,

Long shall we seek his likeness-long in vain,
And turn to all of him which may remain,
Sighing that Nature form'd but one such man,
And broke the die-in moulding Sheridan!

NOTES.

Note 1, page 123, line 3.

When the loud cry of trampled Hindostan.

See Fox, Burke, and Pitt's eulogy on Mr. Sheridan's speech on the charges exhibited against Mr. Hastings in the House of Commons. Mr. Pitt entreated the House to adjourn, to give time for a calmer consideration of the question than could then occur after the immediate effect of that oration.

Note 2, page 125, line 15.

The worthy rival of the wondrous Three! Fox-Pitt-Burke.