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veterate in their spleen against those 760 whom, in their better moments, they hold nearest and dearest.'

'We have heard so, indeed,' said Elizabeth, 'and give faith to the saying.'

765 'May your Grace then be pleased,' said Varney, 'to command my unfortunate wife to be delivered into the custody of her friends?'

Leicester partly started; but, mak770 ing a strong effort, he subdued his emotion, while Elizabeth answered sharply, 'You are something too hasty, Master Varney; we will have first a report of the lady's health and state 775 of mind from Masters, our own physician, and then determine what shall be thought just. You shall have licence, however, to see her, that if there be any matrimonial quarrel 780 betwixt you such things we have heard do occur, even betwixt a loving couple you may make it up, without further scandal to our court, or trouble to ourselves.'

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'Discord, as the Italian poet says,
will find her way into peaceful con-
vents, as well as into the privacy of
families; and we fear our own guards
and ushers will hardly exclude her 795
from courts. My Lord of Leicester,
you are offended with us, and we
have right to be offended with you.
We will take the lion's part upon
us, and be the first to forgive.'

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Leicester smoothed his brow, as by an effort, but the trouble was too deep-seated that its placidity should at once return. at once return. He said, however, that which fitted the occasion, 'that sos he could not have the happiness of forgiving, because she who commanded him to do so, could commit no injury towards him.'

Elizabeth seemed content with this 810 reply, and intimated her pleasure that the sports of the morning should proceed. The bugles sounded - the hounds bayed -the horses pranced

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but the courtiers and ladies sought 815 the amusements to which they were summoned with hearts very different from those which had leaped to the morning's reveille. There was doubt, and fear, and expectation on every 820 brow, and surmise and intrigue in every whisper.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

THOMA
"HOMAS CAMPBELL (1777-1844), the
son of an unsuccessful Glasgow mer-
chant, studied at his native town and at
Edinburgh, but had to support himself by
tutorships and literary work. The success
of his didactic poem The Pleasures of
Hope (1799) enabled him to spend a year
in Germany (1800), where, during a so-
journ at Hamburg, he wrote several of
the minor lyrics on which his fame now
chiefly rests, Ye Mariners of England,
The Soldier's Dream, and others. The view
of the batteries of Copenhagen on his
return suggested to him the spirited war-
song The Battle of the Baltic (1809). In

1803 he settled as an author in London, and soon afterwards received a pension from the civil list (1805). Following in the steps of Walter Scott, he wrote the verse romance Gertrude of Wyoming, a Pennsylvanian Tale (1809), in which he adapted a German novel to the rich forest scenery of the new world. Of his other poetical, biographical, and historical productions we mention only the Specimens of the British Poets (7 vols. 1819) with biographical and critical notices, which has kept its reputation till the present day. His health failing, he went to Boulogne in 1843, where he died in the following year.

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THOMAS MOORE.

THOMAS MOORE (1779-1852) was born of Catholic parents in Dublin, his father being a grocer. As a student at Trinity College, Dublin, he contracted an intimate friendship with Robert Emmet, the leader of the 'United Irishmen', whose tragical fate he touched upon in several of his patriotic songs. Having gone to London to study law at the Middle Temple, his great literary and musical talents opened the salons of the fashionable circles to him, and gained him the patronage of Lord Moira, who secured for him the appointment of Admiralty Registrar at Bermuda (1803). Disliking this post, he immediately left it to the charge of a deputy, and, travelling through the United States and Canada, returned to London. He set up there as an author, and by his lyrical songs and his epic Lalla Rookh (1817) speedily gained a European reputation and a fortune. But when at the height of his fame, the defalcations of his Bermuda deputy compelled him to take refuge abroad (1819), till the debt to the Admiralty had been paid. Meanwhile he visited Italy, where he passed a week with Byron at Venice, and received from him the autobiographical 'Memoirs' which were subsequently destroyed at the instance of the Byron family; from thence he went to Paris, where he lived for two years. Back in England

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(1822), he settled at a rural cottage at Sloperton, in Wiltshire, where he died, after two years' suffering from mental disease, at the age of eighty-three.

Moore holds a place in English literature as a song-writer and as a satirist. His light and musical, though somewhat sentimental songs, known as the Irish Melodies (10 nos. 1807-1834), can hardly be separated from the old Irish airs for which they were written, and with which they have retained a great popularity up to this day. His witty squibs on the Prince Regent and his favourites in the Intercepted Letters; or, the Twopenny Post-Bag (1813) and the humorous skits in The Fudge Family in Paris (1818) have, of course, lost much of their salt. Of his longer poems, the graceful and glittering Eastern romance of Lalla Rookh (1817), consisting of four versetales (The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan,' 'Paradise and the Peri,' 'The Fire-Worshippers,' 'The Light of the Haram'), formerly enjoyed an immense popularity, and was translated into most European, and some Asiatic, languages. As Byron's best friend he was entrusted by John Murray the publisher with the compilation of the Letters and Journals of Lord Byron with Notices of his Life (1830), which proved the most enduring of his prose works.

WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE.
[From Irish Melodies, No. I (1807)]

When he who adores thee has left but the name
Of his fault and his sorrows behind,

Oh! say, wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame.

4 Of a life that for thee was resign'd?

Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn,

Thy tears shall efface their decree;

For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them,

I have been but too faithful to thee.

With thee were the dreams of my earliest love;
Every thought of my reason was thine;

In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above,
Thy name shall be mingled with mine.

Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live

The days of thy glory to see;

But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give
Is the pride of thus dying for thee.

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On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays,
When the clear cold eve 's declining,

He sees the round towers of other days
12 In the wave beneath him shining;

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At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky!

Then I sing the wild song 'twas once such pleasure to hear,
When our voices commingling breathed like one on the ear;
And, as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,
I think, O my love! 'tis thy voice from the kingdom of souls,
10 Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.

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