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VII.

But some there are, who seem to shrink away from me at first,
And then speak kindly; to my heart that trial is the worst!
Oh, then I long to kneel to them, imploring them to save
A hopeless wretch, who only asks an honourable grave!

The playful cast of our poet's mind is displayed in many of his songs. The following lines are amusing, and they express, in very natural terms, the usual results of that most unsuitable of all unsuitable things to a climate like ours

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VI.

We cannot dine under the trees-it would chill us;
We'll try to take shelter in yonder retreat :
Oh, dear! it's a dirty old cowhouse, 'twill kill us;
If all must crowd into it, think of the heat!
A soup-plate inverted Miss Millington uses

To keep her thin slippers above the wet clay!
Oh! see through the roof how the rain-water oozes-
The dinner will all taste of dripping to-day!

VII.

A pic-nic, a pic-nic! so wretched together!
All draggle-tail women, and cross-looking men!
The middle of June, yet this terrible weather
Has made a morass of poor Bogglemy Glen!
It rains just like buckets of water; at present,
There is not the slightest appearance of change:
'Twas very absurd to leave Waterloo Crescent-
Few people can realise all they arrange.

From the year 1833 to 1836, Bayly resided in Paris, and returning to England in the latter year, he once more applied himself to literature, and wrote various songs; but in the year 1837 he was attacked by brain fever, whilst preparing a novel entitled, Kindness in Women, for Bentley. From this illness he recovered, but was never completely restored to health. His weakness increased, and having removed to Boulogne, he found his constitution shattered, and a confirmed jaundice having seized him, his last days were passed in all the horrors of that disease. He still found the old spirit of poetry clinging to him, and occasionally composed short poetical piecesmany of them are devotional, and, amongst the latest written are the following beautiful lines::

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Bayly returned to England, he was advised to try the air and waters of Cheltenham, but all aid from these sources was unavailing. The jaundice turned to dropsy, and he died at Cheltenham, on the twenty-second day of April, 1839. He was buried in the new cemetery of the town, and in St. James's

church a tablet was erected to his memory, bearing the following tribute, from the pen of poor Theodore Hook:

He was a kind parent,
An affectionate husband,
A popular Author,
and

An accomplished gentleman.
To commemorate all his good qualities,
Which she duly appreciated,

This tablet has been erected
By his disconsolate mother.

Few English lyrists have enjoyed a wider or more lasting reputation than Bayly. His songs are, perhaps, more generally sung than Moore's; not that they are more poetical, but, chiefly, because the exquisite melodies to which so many of them have been composed, by Joseph Philip Knight, are written for ordinary singing voices, whilst most of Moore's songs are adapted to beautiful music, never, as we believe, meant for vocalization, and which generally ascends to too high a key, or falls to one below the compass of that voice which can reach the higher notes. For this reason Bayly's songs are sung by the young; to those in middle age they are imbued with all that charm which Lamartine calls

"Le parfum des souvenirs, l'odeur du passé".

recalling the dreams of other days, when the piano was a trysting place, and love was made, in that wickedest of all dangerous ways-another man's words, and when perhaps, the now grave man of forty lingered to watch

"-the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes;" or if some sweet blonde were the idol, felt with Moore"Her floating eyes, oh! they resemble

Blue water-lilies when the breeze

Is making the waters round them tremble."

From these, and other, causes, Bayly has continued a popular and fashionable poet, and the only song writer, now living, whose name can be considered kindred, is Charles SwainBarry Cornwall, and Charles Mackay, are poets of another order of genius.

And now our paper is concluded: we may have suggested to the reader some reflections, upon the Poets of Fashion, not altogether profitless. We have given Sir Charles Hanbury Williams as the Poet of Fashion in his age, and have omitted

Lord Chesterfield and Sir Charles Bunbury, because Williams was the most remarkable. Our object has been to revive a few forgotten memories of those who laughed away the joyous hours of a sunny life, and if a moral can be drawn from our efforts, we would wish it to be, that genius in high places is not all given to frivolity, or, if so squandered, renders its possessor unhappy. We would likewise show that a life of rational ease is not incompatible with considerable literary efforts. Thus Lewis, though dying in his forty-third year, had produced twenty-two very successful publications, some of them being novels which would now, had not Scott, by his wizard genius, changed the public taste, hold the highest place in our literature. The age of Poets of Fashion passed away with that of the Annuals, and the last effort of revivification was made by the Honorable George Sydney Smythe, in his Historic Fancies. The world of fashion is, we are quite satisfied, not at all calculated to foster the poetic temperament, and we have heard many men, chiefly in literary circles, but too ready to apply to fashion the lines on America, addressed by Moore to William Spencer—

"Is this the region then, is this the clime For soaring fancies? for those dreams sublime, Which all the miracles of light reveal

To heads that meditate and hearts that feel."

We believe the drawing-room is as likely to produce a poet as the coffee-house, and William Spencer, writing gay and poetic thoughts, was, in our mind, as worthy of praise as Ebenezer Elliott, the lyrist of the factory. Many critics will applaud the latter, not because his mind was brighter, but because the former was a man of fashion, and must, therefore, be a fool, yet there is as much heart, as much mind, in Spencer's Wife, Children, and Friends, or in his Beth Galert, as in any of Elliott's Corn Law Rhymes. The reader may not agree with our views upon this subject; at all events we have shewn him that a Poet of Fashion can compose something better than "nonsense verses," and superior to Swift's Ode, by a Person of Quality. Men who can write such verses as we have inserted are good company for their circle, bringing bright thoughts and kindly feelings to those who read them, teaching that all the world abroad is not barren, and saving them from the dreary fate of those who are

"Without one breath of soul divinely strong,
ray of mind to thaw them into song."

One

ART. IV.—REV. SAMUEL MADDEN.

1. Themistocles, the lover of his country. A Tragedy, as it is acted at the Theatre Royal, in Lincoln's Inn Fields. 12mo. Dublin: S. Powell. 1729. 2. A Proposal for the general encouragement of learning in Dublin College: dedicated to his grace, the lord primate; and humbly offered to the consideration of all that wish well to Ireland. 4to. Dublin: G. Grierson. 1731. 3. Memoirs of the twentieth century, being original letters of state under George the sixth. Vol. I., 8vo. London: Osborn, Longman, &c. 1733.

4. Reflections and Resolutions proper for the gentlemen of Ireland, as to their conduct for the service of their country, as landlords, as masters of families, as Protestants, as descended from British ancestors, as country gentlemen and farmers, as justices of the peace, as merchants, as members of Parliament. 8vo. Dublin: R. Reilly.

1738

5. A Letter to the Dublin Society, on the improving of their fund; and the manufactures, tillage, &c., in Ireland. 8vo. Dublin: R. Reilly. 1739.

6. Boulter's Monument. A panegyrical poem, sacred to the memory of that great and excellent prelate and patriot, the most reverend Dr. Hugh Boulter; late lord archbishop of Ardmagh, and primate of all Ireland. 8vo. London: S. Richardson. 1745.

THE Irish chroniclers relate, that early in the fourth century three heroic native princes, styled the three Collas, conquered a large portion of Ulster, comprising the present counties of Louth, Monaghan, and Armagh, and this territory was said to have acquired the name of Oirghialla, or Oriel, from its conquerors having stipulated with the monarch of Erin, that any of their descendants who might be demanded as hostages, should not be fettered in the ordinary manner, but with golden gyves, styled in Gaelic, Oir ghialla. In the fifth century two powerful chieftains of Oriel determined to migrate from their then overcrowded territory to a less densely peopled region. "Numerous," said they, "are our heroes and great is our population, our tribe having multiplied, and we cannot all

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