depriving him of the power of retaliation, should have been his protection from similar insults.
In Satire, it must be admitted that Moore is entitled to a distinguished place. Not, indeed, that he wielded the massive and ruthless weapon of the great Roman, the cutting lash of Ariosto and Dryden, the delicate scalpel of Boileau and Pope, or the poisoned dagger of Junius. The edge of his sarcasm seems turned by its wit, and the smile of the archer to blunt his arrow's point. Yet the blade of Moore is sharply incisive, illustrating in the effect of its practised stroke, the axiom of Lady Mary Wortley Montague,—
"Satire should, like a polish'd razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's hardly felt or seen."
The Prose of Moore has the same faults as his poetry,—too much glitter and ornament, too little simplicity and repose,—
"Syllabub syllables sweetly strung,
Seeming so sillily smooth to be sung,
Sicken some singular sinners they say,
Scorning soft sentiment's silvery sway"—
— the pendulum of taste has now swung to the opposite extremity of the arc!
In 1825, appeared his Life of Sheridan, which, with all the sparkle and brilliancy of its diction, proved a disappointment to the reading public, in whom expectation had probably been too highly raised. Fair justice is done to the talents and moral character of the orator; but it must be admitted that our estimation of him as a wit suffers no little from what we learn as to the preparation of his impromptus. Dr. Parr, the great scholar,—not the renowned "old Parr," it is necessary to explain, but Parr of Hatton,—whom Moore had often consulted when writing this biography, and after whom his eldest son was named,—by his last will and testament (1825) gave and bequeathed "a Ring to Thomas Moore, of Sloperton, Wilts, who stands high in my estimation, for original genius, for his exquisite sensibility, for his independent spirit, and incorruptible integrity."
Moore may even be mentioned in the character of a Theologian, for he wrote a book of some learning in defence of the chief articles of the Roman Church,—though he had his children baptized in the Anglican communion. This is not the place to speak at length of his Life of Byron, for which he bled Murray to the tune of nearly £5000. It is known that the materials were first confided to Maginn,—not an over squeamish man certainly,—who shrank aghast from the hideous apocalypse. Moore was applied to, and the result is that portraiture of the poet-lord, which, if but an idealized representation, does not at least require to be veiled like his own "Prophet of Khorassan." The problem of Byron's life yet waits an Œdipus for its solution.
In 1817, appeared Lalla Rookh. This is a poem of splendid diction and gorgeous imagery ; too rich in ornament, too dazzling in uncontrasted light. The author, who was to receive £3000 for his task, had prepared himself by an immense amount of preliminary reading, and it is no small proof of his genius that, of ponderous and intractable materials, he has constructed so rich and graceful an edifice. We may presume, too, that the poem is characterized by some truth of local colour, as it has been
