The only poem in the volume which we do not like is one on the battle of Busaco, which seems to have been a college exercise. To this Mr. Russell has not fixed a date, but from internal evidence we are inclined to think it could not have been written in the full maturity of Wolfe's powers. The battle was fought on the 27th of September, 1810, and we think it likely that Wolfe's poem was written soon after -at least it was at that period very much the practice in Dublin College to give the victories of Wellington such chance of immortality, as prize poems in Greek, English, and Latin could give-and it went a great way to make Tories of the young poets, though we are quite sure that the seven wise men of Dublin College had not any thought of this advantage gained for Church and State. Wolfe's Busaco is not good. "Patriotism" is a poem of exceeding beauty. We are surprised that this and "Jurgurtha" have not found their way into the popular selections. I think how grand and beautiful is God, Some sacred, unknown function. Blessed scenes! With coarse luxuriance:-'twas the lightning's Dash'd its strong flash across thee, and did point Call'd forth thy vegetation. Then I watch'd Who cluster on that peak; or playful peep Wolfe about this time (1815) thought of reading for a college fellowship. The fellowships in Dublin College are given to the best answerers at a public examination in a very extensive course of science-the preparation for which is sufficient to occupy a clever man's attention for several years. Wolfe's habits of study were desultoryhis talents for poetry and general literature were likely to mislead him-and while his success could not be doubtful if diligence could be reckoned on, yet it was quite uncertain whether Wolfe could be got to attend with perseverance to a prescribed course of study for any long time. At all events the trial was not made. One or two visits to friends in the counties of Dublin and Wicklow seem to have dispersed the dream. The contrast between the domestic happiness which he saw enjoyed by the friends with whom he was on those visits and excursions, and the dulness of his col"The following stanzas," says Mr. Ruslege rooms, appears to have completely put an end to any chance of his contentedly sell," will convey some idea of the sensafixing himself down to the necessary plans tions with which the poet returned from of study. There was little chance of fel- such scenes as this to the sombre walls of lowship-reading for a man who, when he a college, and how painfully he felt the returned to his rooms from his country ex-transition from such enjoyments, to the cursions, was engaged in describing the grave occupation of academic studies. scenes he had left in verses such as the following: FAREWELL TO LOUGH BRAY. "Then fare thee well!—I leave thy rocks and glens. (If blessed spirits tire in such employ.) To mix with narrow minds and hollow hearts- SONG. "Oh say not that my heart is cold To aught that once could warm it; For those who made it dearer still, Still oft those solen.n scenes 1 view In rapt and dreamy sadness; "Stern duty rose, and f owning flung He muttered as he bound me : But what have slaves with Nature?'" There is a poem, of which many of the stanzas have all the vigor of Burns-and which are so perfectly descriptive of the friend whose character inspired themGeorge Grierson of the Irish bar-that we wish we could transcribe them, but must refer our readers to the volume itself. Mr. Russell, in describing Wolfe's admiration of Campbell's Hohenlinden, mentions some peculiarities of his manner, which we may as well preserve. "It was, indeed, the peculiar temperament of his mind, to display its emotions by the strongest outward demonstrations. "Such were his intellectaal sensibilities, and the corresponding vivacity of his animal spirits, that the excitation of his feelings generally discovered itself by the most lively expressions, and sometimes by an unrestrained vehemence of gesticulation, which often afforded amusement to his more sedate or less impressible acquaint ances. time he heard it played by a friend, that he immediately commenced singing it over and over again, until he produced an English song admirably suited to the tune. The air, which has the character of an animated march, opens in a strain of grandeur, and suddenly subsides for a few bars into a slow and pathetic modulation, from which it abruptly starts again into all the enthusiasm of martial spirit. The words are happily adapted to these transitions; but the air should be known, in order that the merits of the song should be duly esteemed. The first change in the expression of the air occurs at the ninth line of the song, and continues to the end of the twentieth line. SPANISH SONG. AIR-Viva El Rey Fernando.' Her standard o'er us arching Behold yon burning valley, Let them come, let them come! Remember, Remember, Barossa, And strike for the cause of Spain"Whenever in the company of his friends any Remember your own Saragossa, thing occurred in his reading, or to his memory, And onward, onward! for Spain! which powerfully affected his imagination, he "Apother of his favorite melodies was the usually started from his seat, flung aside his He never popular Irish air, Gramachree.' chair, and paced about the room, giving vent to heard it without being sensibly affected by its his admiration in repeated exclamations of de-deep and tender expression; but he thought light, and in gestures of the most animated rap- that no words had ever been written for it which ture. Nothing produced these emotions more strongly than music, of the pleasures of which came up to his idea of the peculiar pathos which He said they all he was in the highest degree susceptible. He pervades the whole strain. had an ear formed to enjoy, in the most exquisite At the desire of a friend he gave his own conappeared to him want individuality of feeling. manner, the simplest melody, or the richest harmony. With but little cultivation, he had ception of it in these verses, which it seems hard to read, perhaps impossible to hear sung, withacquired sufficient skill in the theory of this accomplishment, to relish its highest charms, and to exercise a discriminative taste in the appreciation of any composition or performance in that delightful art. Sacred music above all, (especially the compositions of Handel,) had the most subduing-the most transporting effect upon his feelings, and seemed to enliven and sublimate his devotion to the highest pitch. He understood and felt all the poetry of music, and was particularly felicitous in catching the spirit and character of a simple air or a national melody. One or two specimens of the adaptation of his poetical talents to such subjects, may give some idea of this. "He was so much struck by the grand national Spanish air, 'Viva el Rey Fernando,' the first | out tears. SONG. If I had thought thou could'st have died, But I forgot, when by thy side, That thou could'st mortal be; And thou should'st smile no more! And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; But when I speak-thou dost not say, If thou would'st stay, e'en as thou art, All cold and all serene, I still might press thy silent heart, And where thy smiles have been ! While e'en thy chill bleak corse I have, Thou seemest still my own, But there I lay thee in thy graveAnd I am now alone! I do not think, where'er thou art, Yet there was round thee such a dawn "He was asked whether he had any real incident in view, or had witnessed any immediate Occurrence which might have prompted these lines. His reply was, he had not; but that he had sung the air over and over till he burst into a flood of tears, in which mood he composed the words." The following is, in its way, of almost unequalled beauty: SONG. Oh, my love has an eye of the softest blue, But a little bright drop from her soul was there, 'Tis that that has undone me. I might have pass'd that lovely cheek, I might have forgotten that red, red lip- Think not 'tis nothing but lifeless clay, Let me not hear the nightingale sing, Though I once in its notes delighted; The feeling and mind that comes whispering forth, Has left me no music beside it. Who could blame had I loved that face, And her warm-warm heart I adore her." We are inclined to think the "Lines on the Burial of Sir John Moore" was the last poem that Wolfe ever wrote. They were first circulated in manuscript among his college friends, then printed in the newspapers and magazines. Byron read them out from a magazine to some friends, of whom Captain Medwin was one. At this time the author's name was not known to the public, and Medwin, in one way or other, was led to think them Byron's. The copy sent by Byron to his sister, in his own handwriting, seemed at first to Captain Medwin to give a kind of confirmation to a conjecture, which, however, in every after edition of his exceedingly interesting book, he took care to tell his readers was a mistake-adding that the poem was ascertained to be Wolfe's. Medwin's claim of the poem for Byron led to several letters, stating the true author; one from Mr. Taylor, of the English bar, which first gave to the public a substantially correct copy of the lines; another from Dr. Miller, of Armagh, in which Wolfe's character is strikingly drawn: but by far the most interesting document which the occasion called forth was the Rev. Mr. O'Sullivan's narrative of the original production of the poem. We transcribe his account from a letter of his to Mr. Taylor "The poem was commenced in my company. The occasion was as follows:-Wolfe came into my room one evening while I was reading the Edinburgh Annual Register.' I think it was the volume for 1809,* and which concluded with an account of the battle of Corunna, and the death of Sir John Moore. It appeared to me to be admirably written-and although the writer might not be classed amongst the very warmest admirers of that lamented general, yet he cordially appreciated his many great and amiable qualities, and eagerly seized upon every opportunity of doing him generous and ample justice. In college we do not always lay down our books when visited by our friends; at least, you know, to your cost, that such is not my practice. İ made our dear departed friend listen to me while I read the account which the admirable writer (I conjectured that he must be Mr. Southey) made to assume a classical interest; and we both felt kindled and elevated by a recital which was caculated to concentrate whatever of glory or interest attached in our young imaginations to Chæronea or Marathon, upon the spotless valor of a British soldier. When I had done, Wolfe and I walked into the country; and I observed that he was totally inattentive to the objects "It was the volume for 1808. The following is the conclusion of the passage to which Mr. O'Sullivan alludes. "Sir John Moore had often said, that if he was killed in battle, he wished to be buried where he fell. The body was removed at midnight to the citadel of Corunna. A grave was dug for him on the rampart there, by a body of the 9th regiment; the aidesdu-camp attending by turns. No coffin could be procured; and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was hastened; for about eight in the morning, some firing was heard, and the officers feared that if a serious attack was made. they should be ordered away, and not suffered to pay him their last duty. The officers of his family bore him to the grave; the funeral service was read by the chaplain; and the corpse was covered with earth."-Edinburgh Annual Register, 1808, p. 458. around him, and in conversation absent and self-ing written the poem, it was claimed, in involved. He was, in fact, silently composing; some unintelligible local hoax, as the and, in a short time, he repeated for me (without production of a rhyming horse-doctor in them down) the first and last stanzas of his Durham. The letter, written in his name beautiful ode, which as you have truly stated in the morning Chronicle, were all that he at first intended. I was exceedingly pleased by them; and I believe the admiration I expressed partly induced him to supply the other stanzas. Every one of the corrections which you have suggested is right. Your memory has served you admirably to restore the ode to the state in which it was left by its lamented author." by some provincial jester, claiming it for him, was copied into the papers, and the laurels which Medwin demanded for Byron, were now for a while awarded to Marshal that was, as we best remember, the name. A more respectable parentage was soon after found, and gave rise to a conjecture which many thought probable enough. A volume of poems was printed by a young clergyman of the name of Barnard, who soon after died of consumption. A friend of ours claiming the authorship of the poem for Wolfe, was told, under circumstances that coerced his belief-so strongly was the matter stated, and by a person whose means of knowledge were of a peculiar kind-that the poem was printed in Barnard's book; his informant, of course, asserting that Barnard was the author-not Wolfe. The facts appeared to our friend It seems impossible that any mind could be uncandid or dull enough to resist such evidence as this: yet though, in addition to this evidence, Archdeacon Russell printed the poem in his remains as Wolfe's, the old reports ascribing its authorship to one or other of the popular poets of the day, or to some obscure village minstrel, were every now and then repeated. Unluckily, in Mr. Russell's memoir of Wolfe, after stating some of the absurd reports concerning the authorship of the poem, the following carelessly-written sentence occurred:-"How-to be indisputable, and a theory instantly ever, the matter has been placed beyond started up in his mind, which reconciled dispute, by the proof that it appeared with them with the fact of Wolfe's authorship the initials C. W.' in an Irish print, long of the poem. The conversation occurred prior to the alleged dates which its false after Wolfe's death, just at the period of claimants assign." A sentence is at Medwin's publication; and the account of least as likely to be carelessly read as care- Barnard's early death, and some other colessly written; and it was supposed from inciding circumstances, led him to the conthis that Mr. Russell knew no more about clusion that Wolfe had published a volume the matter than any body else, and that the of poems under the assumed name of Barwhole of the evidence rested on the fact nard. We have had more than one arguof some Irish paper having printed, at ment with our friend on the subject, knowsome time not stated by Mr. Russell, the ing that it was almost impossible that Wolfe, lines, with the letters C. W.;' and we, all whose movements were known to his who happen to know of our own knowledge friends, could have been the author of the the fact of Wolfe's being the author of poems; while we felt that it would gratify the lines, happen also to know of our own our curiosity to learn more of Barnard's knowledge, that men of the very highest book, and we had inquiries made of the pubrank in literature fell into what we cannot lisher. The little book, a pamphlet of fortybut think the very natural mistake which eight pages, is now on our table-" Trifles, we have pointed out. Other passages in imitative of the chaster style of Melanger." Mr. Russell's memoir ought to have placed Graceful imitations they are, not translathe matter beyond all doubt; but in his tions, nor in any degree approaching that narration of the matter, it is not easy to character: not equal to Merivale's poems distinguish what is evidence and what is from the Anthology, or even to Bland's, but argument. Mr. Russell, like ourselves, or still very pleasing in their way; and we are any other of Wolfe's friends, would as soon glad of the accident that introduced us to think of doubting the authorship of Mar- the pleasant little book; but unfortunately mion or any other acknowledged work of the sight of it at once put an end to the roany well-known writer as that of this poem; mance which our friend had woven out of yet we cannot but think that the mixture of the publication, and the fates of Barnard argument and evidence, the boundary lines and Wolfe. The poem which, to the gifted of which are not very distinctly marked in eye of the printer and bookseller, whose his account, tended somewhat to perplex a claim of Wolfe's ode for Barnard, led to case which was the simplest in the world. the confusion, had appeared to be "The While the friends of Wolfe were one after Burial of Sir John Moore," turns out to be another stating their knowledge of his hav-"Verses occasioned by the death of Captain In the Edinburgh Advertiser, a letter dated Temple, January, 1841, signed A. Mackintosh, and addressed to the Rev. W. Muir, assistant minister of Temple, accompanied with documents of one kind or other, by which the statements of the letter were sought to be confirmed, was printed. The writer of the letter, the master of the parish school at Temple, states himself to have written the poem, and goes into a very minute detail of circumstances connected with his claim. Mr. Muir manifestly gave entire credence to Mackintosh's statement, and the editor of the Edinburgh Advertiser gave it also his sanction. This led to the publication of several letters on the subject, all from persons of considerable eminence, who knew the fact of Wolfe's being the author of the poem. Mackintosh published an impudent letter, admitting that Wolfe must have claimed the poem, but still asserting himself to be the writer. He was unlucky enough to assign a date to the period at which he composed it; and though the precise date of Wolfe's poem is not ascertained, yet it is ascertained that it was written prior to the date which Mackintosh chose to lay for his handiwork. While the discussion about Mackintosh's claim was 9th regiment of dragoons, who fell "Dr. Anster, on the part of Dr. Luby, F.T.C.D., in the battle of Waterloo!!" Captain read a letter of the late Rev. Charles Wolfe, author of the dragoons, became identified of the lines on the burial of Sir John Moore. The with Sir John Moore, and Corunna and Wa-letter, or rather fragment of a letter, had been found by Dr. Luby among the papers of a deceased broterloo were all one. In mistakes like this, ther, who was a college friend of Wolfe and of Mr. or in the buffoonery of provincial jests, we Taylor, to whom the letter was addressed. The are convinced that all the claims to this part found had the appearance of having been torn poem originated, with the exception of one, off from the rest of the letter. It contains the adso peculiar that we feel it necessary reluc- dress; a complete copy of the ode; a sentence tantly to notice it. mentioning to Mr. Taylor that his praise of the stanzas first written led him to complete the poem; letter; and the signature. There is no date on a few words of a private nature at the end of the the part preserved; but the post mark of September 6, 1816, fixes the time at which it was sent. Dr. Anster read passages from Captain Medwin's Conversations of Lord Byron,' and Archdeacon Russell's Remains of Wolfe,' in which mention when the poem first appeared, without the author's is made of the various guesses as to the author, name, in the newspapers and magazines. It was said Dr. Anster attributed to Mocre, to Campbell, to Wilson, to Byron, and now and then to a writer in many respects equal to the highest of these names, whose poems have been published under the name of Barry Cornwall. Shelly thought the Byron to be the author. When Medwin's book poem likely to be Campbell's; and Medwin believed appeared, in which this was stated, several friends of Wolfe's, among others Mr. Taylor, to whom was addressed the letter, of which an important part has been fortunately found, stated their knowledge of Wolfe's having written the ode. One gratifying result, of the controversy was the publi Charles Wolfe, with a memoir written with great cation by Archdeacon Russell of the remains of beauty, and, what constitutes the rare charm of the work, describing with entire fidelity the character, and habits, and feelings, of one of the most pureminded, generous, and affectionate natures that ever existed. The question as to the authorship of the ode was for ever set at rest, to any one who had seen either the letters of Mr. Wolfe's friends, at the time of Captain Medwin's publication, or Archdeacon Russell's book. Were there any doubt on the subject of authorship, the document now produced would completely remove it; but for this purpose it would really not be worth while to trouble the academy with the communication, as it would be treating the insane pretensions now and then put forward in the newspapers for this person or the other, with too much respect to discuss them seriously, or at all; but another and a very important purpose would be answered by the publication of this authentic copy of the poem from Wolfe's autograph in their proceedings. The poem has been more frequently reprinted than almost any other in the language; and, an almost necessary consequence of such frequent reprints, it is now seldom printed as it was originally written. Every person who had occasion to compare the common editions of Milton, or Cowper, or any of our poets, with those printed in the lifetime of the authors, is aware that no dependence whatever can be placed on the text of the books in common use. Every adds its own stock of blunders to the general mass. successive reprint from a volume, carelessly edited, Wolfe's ode has been, in this way, quite spoiled in many of its best passages. The academy had now going on in the newspapers, Dr. Luby luckily found a letter of Wolfe's, giving a complete copy of the lines in Wolfe's handwriting. The overwhelming evidence that from one quarter or another exposed the impudence of Mackintosh's pretensions, led Mr. Muir, who had at first been imposed on by him, to re-examine the plausible schoolmaster, and he succeeded in extorting from him a confession that his statement was "a lie from end to end." In Wolfe's letter, the copy of the poem is introduced by the following words: "I have completed 'The Burial of Sir John Moore," and will here inflict it upon you; you have no one but yourself to blame, for praising the two stanzas that I told you so much." We transcribe from the proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy the following interesting particulars concerning the letter, which must for ever put an end to any controversy on the subject of the authorship: |