Manners.-Layard.- Wrother. 595 LORD JOHN MANNERS. Let wealth and commerce, laws and learning die, But leave us still our old nobility. England's Trust, and other Poems. London, 1840. A. H. LAYARD. I have always believed that success would be the inevitable result if the two services, the army and the navy, had fair play, and if we sent the right man to fill the right place. Speech, January 15, 1855. Hansard, Parl. Debates, MISS WROTHER. Hope tells a flattering tale,1 1 Hope told a flattering tale, Vol. ii. p. 86. That Joy would soon return; Anon. For love is doomed to mourn. Air by Giovanni Paisiello (1741-1816). Vol. i. p. 320. 596 Smith.-Chorley. - Barry. ALEXANDER SMITH. 1830-1867. Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire. A Life Drama. Sc. ii. In winter when the dismal rain Came down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines. A poem round and perfect as a star. Ibid. Ibid. H. F. CHORLEY. 1831-1872. A song to the oak, the brave old oak, The Brave Old Oak. Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak Ibid. MICHAEL J. BARRY. But whether on the scaffold high The fittest place where man can die Is where he dies for man! From The Dublin Nation, Sept. 28, 1844. Lovell.-Cook. - Tupper. - Adams. 597 MARIA LOVELL. Two souls with but a single thought, Ingomar the Barbarian. Act ii. Translated ELIZA COOK. I love it I love it, and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair! The Old Arm-Chair. MARTIN F. TUPPER. A babe in a house is a well-spring of pleasure. Of Education. God, from a beautiful necessity, is Love. Of Immortality. SARAH FLOWER ADAMS. Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me; Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to thee! 1848. 598 Dufferin.- Muloch.-Harte. LADY DUFFERIN. I am very lonely now, Mary, For the poor make no new friends ; The few our Father sends. Lament of the Irish Emigrant. I'm sitting on the stile, Mary, Where we sat side by side. Ibid. DINAH M. MULOCH. Two hands upon the breast, Two pale feet cross'd in rest, The race is won. Now and Afterwards. BRET HARTE. That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar. Plain Language from Truthful James. Ah Sin was his name! Ibid. With the smile that was childlike and bland. Ibid. 1 Two hands upon the breast, and labour is past. Russian Proverb. No greater grief than to remember days Ibid. Canto v. 121. MICHAEL ANGELO. 1474-1564. As when, O lady mine, The stone unhewn and cold Becomes a living mould, The more the marble wastes The more the statue grows. Sonnet. Translated by Mrs. Henry Roscoe. |