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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

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


To write in "_The Keepsake_," as sure as you're there!!
T' other night, at a Ball, 'twas my fortunate chance
With a very nice elderly Dandy to dance,
Who, 'twas plain, from some hints which I now and then caught.
Was the author of _something_--one couldn't tell what;
But his satisfied manner left no room to doubt
It was something that Colburn had lately brought out.
We conversed of _belles-lettres_ thro' all the quadrille,--
Of poetry, dancing, of prose, standing still;
Talkt of Intellect's march--whether right 'twas or wrong--
And then settled the point in a bold _en avant_.
In the course of this talk 'twas that, having just hinted
That _I_ too had Poems which--longed to be printed,
He protested, kind man! he had seen, at first sight,
I was actually _born_ in "_The Keepsake_" to write.
"In the Annals of England let some," he said, "shine,
"But a place in her Annuals, Lady, be thine!
"Even now future '_Keepsakes_' seem brightly to rise,
"Thro' the vista of years, as I gaze on those eyes,--
"All lettered and prest, and of large-paper size!"
How un_like_ that Magan, who my genius would smother,
And how we true geniuses find out each other!
This and much more he said with that fine frenzied glance
One so rarely now sees, as we slid thro' the dance;
Till between us 'twas finally fixt that, next year,
In this exquisite task I my pen should engage;
And, at parting, he stoopt down and lispt in my ear
These mystical words, which I could but _just_ hear,
"Terms for rhyme--if it's _prime_--ten and sixpence per page.


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