Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1849-1856, 1849-06-07
Curs@ap, 1unc 5.

n yAnother brilliant light Is going out
Tom Moore, who has distracted more sen,i
mental young ladies, by the rhapsody Of hi
melodious verses, than any other living man
is said TO have nearly lost his memory, so tha
1t is extremely difficult for him to recollec
the most trihing occurrences. Surely his ha
been favored life. lie has passed gentl,
along the current Of time, with nothing bu
favoring breezes and pleasant smiles to chez
him on the way.
/ lie is indeed a wonderful man He is the
last of that eminent trumvlrate, Byron, Scott
and Moore, wo, about a quart er Of a cen
tury ago, were the literary stais Of particular
observation. They each wrote in their fav.
orte styles, and each had his warm and en-
thusiastic admirers. Byron was the noble
and lofty son of song, whose soul was filled
with dark imaginings, and whose mind grasp
ed with fearful potency, all that was terri
BILE, sublime, mysterious and grand in nature /;
he hated the world and he fanced that the
world hated him he bid defiance 10 all secu.
iai 'o"'cHtIoHdiItieS, ana NC SOdrcu III tnOSe
burning paths Of thought where common men
did not dare TO look. He grasped the infinite,
and spurned the finite he endeavored to make
men believe that he was a splendid devil, -,
While yet he was better man than those
whom he deceived he had his errors, for he
was but human, yet, after all, he was great
man, and possessed vast deal Of the nobility
of our nature, the announcement of weak and
lnsipid critics to the contrary, Notwithstanding
Scott was an entirely dileren, man, and vet
he fully appreciated Byron, because he saw
him in his true light ; he knew him because
he had a compass Of mind that could penetrate
the shield which tho noble bard esconsed him.
self behind, and he could read the intrinsic
merits not on'y of the poet, but OF the heart of
the man a'so. He looked with more pla-
cid eye on the world, and its storms and trials
had different effect on his spirit he submit.
ted with more chastencd will to that which
he could not control. lie was great and
good man, and althou.,h almost always en-
hanased in his petuhiary affairs, yet he was
Invariably cheerful, and never yielded to last
ing dependency. lie accomplished an in
credible amount of intellectual labor, and his |
Efforts Increased with his perplexiies. He
wrote Tor men of all classes, conditions and
tastes, fecause he was true to nature. and ev
cry line from his pen was glowing with the
inspiration of genius.
Moore was yet a different man. The
bosom friend and constant companion Of Bv-
ION ana scott, he was almost the only one,
OF any distinction, who did not smart undor
the lash of Byron's caustic verse. Tom
Moore has had no enemies. lie has lived the
worl' over, and his fame has spread to every Il
nation and cline. lie has written as if ro.
posing IN some romantic eastern parnIise
lrnbrosial with the perfume of flower, sur.
rounded by fascinating houri, half in,oxica.
cd by the Incensed breath of lovely women.
zee from all care, and baskng only in life's
'lyslum nectar. His poetry has been instipc.
I've with bewiIdering joy, and his every
hought has flowed into and through the hu-
nan soul, lko fragrant OIL 1t has captva,ed
nd charmed, it has Iurod and it has bedevil. II
ID hundreds and thousands He has bcop
he cynosurc star Of men, and the anoelIc
AdonlS OF women. His poems have been
cad IN bed by moonlight, and his SONGS havel
ulyered and trilled on the lips of lovely wom- Il
n, until the soul seemed bathed in glory II
nd the heart melted away in cxtatic joy III
Such have been these three distinguished
len The two former have long since paid
ne debt OF nature, and gone down to the \
oldness OF the tomb their works vet live, II
no VIII 1--we through all time these men D
instructed Their own monuments, not ofmar
e. but IN the hearts Of the living. Chde
Larold and the Waverly Novels will be read .
hllo language cndures. But now the las, ofI ,
G three is about to follow his predecessors. .
Is light has burned brilliantly to the last g
o cloud has obscured its rays, and no mis- q
rtune has chilled the poets soul. His fro Il
rs cleaned with singular brightness, until
c last moment, when ii is TO be suddenly ~,
mined lie stands, in a measure, alone
immediate admirers and associates have
left him, while he has long been like the
It bird Of the brood, left to chant the re. A
lum OF the others, and then to warble forth
J cwn last canzonet.
Many gllstenlng eyes will be mostened IN
tn tears, oh, Tom Moore, when thy spiril ha
Us It's wings in rcpose Fair lips will mur- Ole
IT Thy loss, and sweet voices will sing lis
ol to thy memory to
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