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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

"The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes"

S.--I've just opened my letter to say,
In your next you must tell me, (now _do_, DOLLY, pray,
For I hate to ask BOB, he's so ready to quiz,)
What sort of a thing, dear, a _Brandenburgh_ is.

[1] The cars, on return, are dragged up slowly by a chain.
[2] For this scrap of knowledge "Pa" was, I suspect, indebted to a note
upon Volney's "Ruins:"
"It is by this tuft of hair (on the crown of the head), worn by the
majority of Mussulmans, that the Angel of the Tomb is to take the elect
and carry them to Paradise."
[3] A fashionable _cafe glacier_ on the Italian Boulevards.
[4] "You eat your ice at Tortoni's," says Mr. Scott, "under a Grecian
group."



LETTER XI.
FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO ----.

Yes, 'twas a cause, as noble and as great
As ever hero died to vindicate--
A Nation's right to speak a Nation's voice,
And own no power but of the Nation's choice!
Such was the grand, the glorious cause that now
Hung trembling on NAPOLEON'S single brow;
Such the sublime arbitrament, that poured,
In patriot eyes, a light around his sword,
A hallowing light, which never, since the day
Of his young victories, had illumed its way!
Oh 'twas not then the time for tame debates,
Ye men of Gaul, when chains were at your gates;
When he, who late had fled your Chieftain's eye.


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